Never thought I had a chance with the Siren in you.
“But you took my hand, listened to my songs,
Hopped in my car and showed me the way outta here.
Now you’re gone and all I can think about is …
“Half past the time I lost you
And all the things I should’ve said.
If I could just go back, I’d say it all,
So you’ll never forget you’re mine.
“Those nights we spent in my old car, lookin’ at the stars,
Holdin’ hands, and makin’ plans.
Didn’t know they’d be the last.
“Just another Southern boy’s first love,
Too many regrets and can’t-forgets.
If I could just go back to …
“Half past the time I lost you
And all the things I should’ve said.
If I could just go back, I’d say it all,
So you won’t forget you’re mine.”
Link stopped singing, but he couldn’t look up. “That’s all, I guess.” He crumpled the paper in his hands. He sounded sad, like the words in his song.
Because it’s how I feel. It’s all true.
When he finally glanced up, his friends looked stunned, but Johnson smiled. “You got a real gift. Don’t waste it.”
No one had ever told Link he had a gift before, let alone a talent for something he actually cared about. He looked as shocked as his friends.
“Unless I find my girl, it doesn’t matter.” Link took a deep breath. “Help me find her, sir. Please.”
“Wish I could, son.” The bluesman shook his head sadly. “But I just can’t remember.”
John almost jumped out of his seat. “What are you talking about?”
“Your head wasn’t the only one Abraham messed with.” Johnson pointed at his temple. “There are things I can’t remember. Things he didn’t want me to remember.”
Link dropped back down in his chair, shoulders sagging. “You don’t know where the labs are,” he mumbled. “You can’t help us. We’re screwed.”
“Come on now, keep your head up, son.” Johnson patted Link’s shoulder. “Just because I can’t help you doesn’t mean I don’t know somebody who can.”
“Sir?”
“Are you willin’ to make a trade?” Johnson asked.
Link swallowed hard. He didn’t want to give the old man his soul, not that he figured it was worth much. And the stories had never exactly gone in favor of the guy making the trade—including Johnson’s.
But I’ll do it for Rid.
“I should probably tell you right up front that I’m a pretty big sinner,” Link said. “At least, accordin’ to my mom. And she practically lives at church. So you probably won’t end up at the Pearly Gates with my soul.”
The bluesman raised an eyebrow. “I’m not interested in your soul. I want that.” He pointed at the sheet of paper in Link’s hand.
“You want my song?” Link was shocked. “The one I wrote?”
“It was really good, Link,” Necro said.
Johnson nodded. “Like I said, you’ve got a gift. And I’ve been lookin’ for somethin’ worth playin’ for a long time. Gets lonely out here.”
Link didn’t hesitate. As far as he was concerned, the guy could have every song he’d ever written and every song he was ever going to write. “It’s yours. Just tell me where to find this person who can help us.”
Johnson tucked the page in his pocket and walked back to his armchair. “I can’t make you any promises, but if anybody knows how to find those labs, it’s the Girl with the Velvet Voice.”
“Who?” Floyd and Liv asked at the same time.
“She’s the Caster Archivist,” he said matter-of-factly.
For a second, Liv didn’t say a word. “You must be confused, Mr. Johnson. I’ve never heard of a Caster Archivist, and I’m studying under some of the most knowledgeable Keepers in history.”
“Well, she’s as real as you and me.” Johnson ran his fingers across the frets of his guitar. “She monitors the whole New Order. All that crazy stuff, since the world got all shook up and back again.”
At the mention of the New Order, Liv looked rattled.
The bluesman pointed at Link. “When you get to New Orleans, find Madame Blue’s House of Voodoo. Ask for the Girl with the Velvet Voice, and tell her I sent you.”
“You’re sure about this, Mr. Johnson?” Link held his breath waiting for the answer.
Johnson put down the guitar and looked him in the eye. “I’d bet my soul on it.”
CHAPTER 12: NOX
Every Rose Has Its Thorn
Nox stared at the picture so intently that the rest of the room began to blur around it.
She looks like a corpse.
In the photograph, Ridley’s eyelids were heavy and she was leaning against the wall for support. It was unclear if she even had any idea her picture was being taken. But the way the photo was tacked over some of the others made it look like a recent addition.
He had to hurry. He snatched her picture off the wall.
I’m coming, Ridley.
He barely noticed the other rooms along the hallway as he rushed past them, stopping just long enough to be sure no one was inside. The only thing he could think about was finding her. Nox heard voices somewhere far behind him, maybe back in the trophy room, but he ignored them. He was almost at the end of the hallway now.