Link swallowed. “How can you be immune to superstrength?”
Sampson smiled. “By being stronger.”
Link held up a spoon. “Bend this fork with your mind.”
“It’s a spoon.”
“Trick question.”
Sampson grabbed it and crushed it in his hand.
Link swallowed. “So you think with your fists? Good to know.”
“Let’s get out of here. We’re gonna be late.” Floyd appeared behind Sampson, pounding on the diner table nervously with drumsticks that morphed into her fingers. Floyd looked like a long-lost member of a speed metal band. It wasn’t clear which was more of a relic, her tattered black tour T-shirt—this one was from Judas Priest—or her battered black pants. Either way, Ridley was beginning to think Floyd shopped at some special thrift shop for retired rockers.
“Late for what? Where are you guys going?” If it meant she could avoid going back to her job for a few more hours, Rid was all in.
“The big audition.” Floyd picked at the crust of Rid’s pie. “Well, not yours. His. You don’t even have to come.”
“Wait. Audition?” Link turned to glare at Ridley. “How about that?”
“Nobody told me he had to audition,” Ridley interrupted. “Just to be clear.” She looked at them. “What are you going to do, not have a drummer? I mean, he has to be better than nothing, right?”
“Hey,” Link said, trying to figure out if she was insulting him or not.
“Come on. What did you think would happen? We’d just show up with your boyfriend and start rocking the house, business as usual? Nox isn’t like that,” Necro said, shaking her head. “Anyway, it’s not like a real audition—it’s just one gig, in front of his house crowd. We haven’t even played there yet, so in a way, he’s auditioning all of us. They like us, he likes us, it’s all good.”
“And if he doesn’t like us?” Link frowned.
“Let’s just say the last guy Lennox Gates didn’t like isn’t around anymore.” Floyd looked over at Necro.
“Where is he?” Link leaned forward in the booth.
“Some say it was a fire. Some say it was a Mortem Cast.” Necro sounded ominous. “Either way, nobody ever saw him again.”
“Lennox Gates sounds like a swell guy.” Link shook his head. “This day is just gettin’ better and better.”
“Sirene’s a cool club. I’ve checked it out. At least, it’s a step up from Suffer,” Floyd said.
“Sirene? That’s the name of the club?” Ridley looked incredulous.
“Why, you know it?” Necro shrugged. “It just opened.” She yanked a flyer out of her pocket. At first, it looked like a blank piece of black paper.
Slowly, shimmering burgundy letters began to appear, one at a time, as if they were ascending from a great depth.
SIRENE
There was nothing else—just the word.
But it was strangely evocative, especially to a Siren.
Is it a coincidence? Or is Lennox Gates messing with me? Why would he suddenly need my help at a club basically named after me?
Being a regular person suddenly seemed like the least of Ridley’s problems. There was no way she was letting Link go anywhere near that club without her. Work would have to wait.
“Enough talk. Let’s blow.” Sampson stood up, and everyone followed.
Bandmate or not, you didn’t mess with a Darkborn.
Out on the sidewalk, Rid caught up with Link, a few paces behind the others. “I didn’t know you had to audition.”
Link looked at her. “Nah, it’s cool. It’s one gig.” He called up to Floyd. “Hey, Floyd. I was meanin’ to ask. What happened to your last drummer?”
“I heard he sucked,” Ridley said carefully.
The three Supernaturals stopped in their tracks. “Wait a minute. He doesn’t know?” Necro looked amused, while Floyd looked amazed. Sampson seemed only mildly interested.
“Know what?” Link looked at Rid. She glared at the others. All three of them were there, the night she lost everything at Suffer. They knew what a mess she was in, and worse, how she’d gotten herself into it. She just had to keep them from telling Link all the gory details, until she fixed things. And until she figured out what the hell was going to happen with her second marker. She couldn’t tell Link about that. It was too humiliating, she was too scared, and he might get too angry. At her, or at Nox, she didn’t know, but she didn’t want to find out.
But what are the odds of that?
Floyd clapped her hand on Link’s back. “You realize this is all a scam. Your Siren’s scamming you, bro.”
“What are you sayin’?” Link looked even more confused than usual.
“Nothing,” Ridley snapped. She looked at his bandmates, meaningfully. Don’t even think about it.
Necro shook her head. “It’s not nothing. You need to tell him—”
Floyd cut in. “Your girlfriend took down our drummer and crossed a badass dude in a big card game, and—”
“Won. I beat him.” Ridley looked up at Link. “Believe me, Hot Rod. I was as surprised as you are.”
“Yeah, right,” said Floyd. “And then unicorns flew out of your ass.” She twisted two fingers into a unicorn horn and held it up to her forehead.
“How did you know? It’s my specialty.” Ridley glared at Floyd, desperately wishing she would shut up. Then Rid turned back to Link. Believe me, she thought. You have to believe me.