Bars.
Prison bars.
He forced himself to control the vision. Slowly, he pushed his way down the bars until he saw it … her face. Pale and unmoving. Scratched and bruised and covered with dry blood. Her lips were purplish blue.
Ridley—
Ridley, wake up. It’s me. It’s Nox.
It was no use. Her lips were parted but remained unmoving. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing. He held on to the sight of her for as long as he could. He couldn’t bear to let it slip away, because he didn’t know if he’d ever see it again.
By the time the vision began to fade, his eyes were as blurry as the smoke.
She’s alive. That’s what the vision means.
It would take more than one Ravenwood to kill Ridley Duchannes. Maybe more than two. He couldn’t let himself consider the alternative. He pushed himself off the wall and kept moving. Someone had to do the right thing. Someone had to show up for her, whether or not it was too late.
Not just anyone. Me.
Nox didn’t trust anyone else. He was the only one who really knew, because he was the only one who had watched it all happen before.
I have to stop him. I have to find her.
Ridley.
He wouldn’t let the Ravenwoods do this to another Siren he cared about. But it was more than that. Nox couldn’t escape it, and he didn’t want to. He’d never felt this way about anyone, and it terrified him.
Because he knew what happened to the people he cared about.
In the hands of a Dark Caster, love is a death sentence.
The thought—and the feeling—hit him hard, and Lennox Gates knew one thing for sure. He loved Ridley Duchannes.
CHAPTER 7: RIDLEY
Return of the Warlord
You have to stay awake.
Ridley struggled to keep her eyes open.
Fight it off. Stay in control.
If you stay awake, you can think. If you think, you can find a way out of here. A way back to Link.
But it was no use, and Ridley found herself drifting in and out of a restless sleep, filled with surreal dreams and hallucinations.
Not again. Don’t close your eyes again.
Think of Lena and Link. Think of your friends.
Drugs. It had to be drugs.
Only now she couldn’t remember them doing it.
Link. I can’t. I’m so tired.
But then she felt her eyes closing again, and she almost didn’t care anymore, because with sleep came dreams of Link.
“So where do you want to go? Sky’s the limit, Babe.” Link glanced at me from behind the wheel of the Beater. In front of us, there was nothing but highway, and above us¸ nothing but blue sky.
“Don’t call me Babe,” I said. But after everything that had happened, I was actually starting to like it. Not that I’d ever admit it to him. I propped my platforms up on the dashboard. “Definitely not the South. I think we should head west. LA, Vegas … somewhere we can hole up in a four-star hotel, order room service, basically the opposite of everything we were doing in New York.”
Link grinned and turned up “Stairway to Heaven.”
“Whatever you say, Sugarplum. But only because I’m crazy about you, and I’ve never been to the West Coast.” He smiled at me again, looking happier than I’ve ever seen him.
Lucille meowed from the backseat and jumped between us. Today, even that fleabag couldn’t ruin my mood.
The song was halfway over, and I realized I was holding my breath. It felt like something terrible was about to happen, and I was waiting for it.
Link sang along with Led Zeppelin, and I kept waiting.
And waiting.
The song ended, and I exhaled. Everything was okay. We were gonna make it. All the way to LA, or Vegas, or wherever the hell we wanted to go. And I was gonna charm our way into the nicest hotel I could find and keep Link as far from New York City as I could.
New York City.
A thought slipped through my mind, but I lost it. It had something to do with New York. Something I left behind.
Nox.
The thought slammed into me, and I saw the black truck speeding toward us, and “Stairway to Heaven” was playing all over again.
That’s when the screaming started—
Link—
Ridley bolted upright, clawing at the sheets around her. The chandelier was switched on. But even in the dim light, her vision was still blurry.
Of course. They drugged me again.
She vaguely remembered the Darkborn entering her cell—her room. That was what he’d called it. But this wasn’t a room any more than Ridley was a guest. She remembered bits and pieces of her conversation with other girls in the cells somewhere in the hallway.
I’m not the only prisoner. There were girls. They had names and faces.
I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?
Menagerie.
The word lingered in her mind. Ridley had no intention of becoming a permanent part of the Menagerie, whatever the hell that meant.
Get up. You need to find a way out of here.
She took deep breaths, focusing her powers inward. She couldn’t use the Power of Persuasion on herself, but trying pulled her out of the drug-induced haze faster. Anything to keep her mind sharp.
Another silver tray rested on the nightstand. Instead of soup, this time her captors had upped the ante and left a plate of filet mignon and baby carrots, as if the meal could fool her into believing they weren’t going to do something terrible to her.
They probably put something in the food, too.
She stared at the meat as if it was a cherry lollipop. To Link, it would’ve been.