Ones even more terrifying than the rats. The bright light shining in her eyes. Fire blazing through her veins. Two men talking in the background as the heat pulsed through her body like a second heartbeat.
Patient 13.
And something about the powers of a Siren and an Illusionist.
The perfect combination to start with—wasn’t that what one of the men said?
The memory slipped away, and Ridley rocked harder.
Just keep singing. The nightmares will go away if you just keep singing.
Things only change if you change them, Ridley, a voice said from somewhere in the back of her mind—a voice she recognized. Don’t forget that. The Dark part of you will always protect you, just like the Darkness protected me when I was Claimed. But you have to control your power. Never let it control you.
Ridley realized who it was. Auntie Sarafine. The only person who didn’t turn her back on Ridley when she was Claimed.
I can’t, Ridley answered silently. I’m not strong enough. The rats will come back, and the nightmares.
But she kept hearing Sarafine’s voice: Things only change if you change them, Ridley…. Control your power. Never let it control you.
Ridley didn’t feel strong enough to control anything—not the rats or the blinding light or the fire or the pain. She focused on the pain and the memories, and realized there were other voices. Voices from the memory of the pain and the fire and the blinding light. So Ridley did the unimaginable and listened to those voices, too.
“Is the infusion ready?” a man asks. “Read me the specs.”
“Patient 13. Siren. First Trial. Administering Power Infusion: Illusionist,” another says.
“If this takes and she doesn’t go crazy or die when the new power hits, we’ll have made history. You know that, right?”
“Concentrate on giving her the infusion first.”
A different kind of fire burned through Ridley—one she hadn’t felt since they took her away.
Rage.
She couldn’t remember who the two men were—the ones who referred to her as Patient 13—or who had locked her in this cage. So she played the song over and over in her mind, until the only voices she heard belonged to the black-boned rats, and she realized what she needed to do. It was her last thought before she drifted off again.
I’ll make them pay.
Just like Auntie Sarafine taught me.
CHAPTER 14: LINK
Electric Funeral
The Girl with the Velvet Voice was a wild card, an unknown variable in an already complex situation—at least that was what Liv said. Still, John trusted Robert Johnson, and the whole Caster Archivist angle had Liv itching to find her.
“Why? Are you jealous?” Floyd looked amused every time Liv brought it up.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I just think it’s a bit odd, that’s all. Keepers have been chronicling the Caster world for hundreds of years.” Liv sniffed. “Why change the system now?”
“Things change. The Order of Things. Us. The universe. Change isn’t always a bad thing.” Floyd shrugged.
“It’s not always good, either,” Liv said.
John and Link knew better than to say a word.
As they made their way through the Tunnels, Sampson ducked into every Dark Caster club they passed, asking around to see if anyone knew the location of Ravenwood Oaks. Link didn’t think anyone would be willing to talk, but Sam said he was wrong; plenty of scumbags offered him information. The trouble was, every one of them named a different place—from bartenders and doormen to dealers and thugs, he heard everything from Savannah to Saint Croix.
By the time they reached the French Quarter, Link was losing it.
“How come nobody knows where the hell that plantation is?” he asked, following Lucille down the dark sidewalk. “It’s like we’re tryin’ to find Wonder Woman’s invisible plane. Or maybe S.H.I.E.L.D.’s secret base, the one in the desert.”
“None of the people Sam asked had ever been there,” John pointed out. “My guess is it’s some kind of Cast. Maybe you can’t find Abraham’s old place unless you’ve actually been there.”
“Unless he messes with everyone’s head so they can’t remember,” Link muttered, his mood getting worse by the minute.
“Cloaking Casts like the kind John is talking about relate to the location itself, in this case Ravenwood Oaks,” Liv said. “You can’t Cloak a place from people who’ve actually been there.”
“Let’s hope this Velvet Voice chick has.” Link stopped at the corner and looked around. “How much farther is it to the House of Blues?”
Floyd looped her arm through his and pulled him down the street. “It’s House of Voodoo, and we’re almost there.”
When they reached Madame Blue’s House of Voodoo in the older section of the French Quarter, the shop was dark.
Link kicked an empty can against the side of the building. “Crap. It’s already closed.”
John cupped his hands and peered through the dirty front window. “Ring the bell anyway.”
Link pressed the buzzer next to the front door, and within seconds, a light switched on somewhere in the back.
“Check out those voodoo dolls.” Floyd elbowed Sampson and pointed at a row of goofy-looking stuffed dolls wearing top hats on the other side of the glass, thick pins sticking out of their chests.
“Looks like a typical souvenir shop in the Quarter.” Necro gestured at decks of tarot cards and plastic bags full of coins and trinkets labeled LUCK BAGS in the window.