“I’m not in a rush. You’ll know what I want, when I want it. And I assure you I will.” He looked at her. “Want it, that is.”
She didn’t respond.
“I have an exceptional memory.” He smiled. “Especially when it comes to my markers.”
Ridley faltered. For once, she had nothing in her arsenal. No clever comeback, no snappy insult—nothing was going to change the fact that she had lost the one thing she prized above all.
Power.
Power was her freedom.
Mine, and Link’s.
Lennox raised an eyebrow, sipping again from the fluted glass. “Speaking of which, how does the hybrid boyfriend feel about your trading in his future for your own?”
“It’s not like that.” Ridley winced.
“What’s it like, then, Sugarplum?”
The sound of Link’s pet nickname for her was too much. “Leave Link out of this.”
“Wesley Lincoln? The worst student in the entire fake freshman class of Georgia Redeemer? You know I can’t do that.” Lennox sighed. “But I have to say, I’ve enjoyed getting to know him.”
“You don’t.” She felt a new cold, coiling in her gut. “Know him, I mean.” Or me, for that matter. Otherwise, you wouldn’t dare.
“I keep an eye on all my investments. Your near-Mortal mistake will play in my band and work for my club and do whatever I want him to do, whenever I want it. Like all my employees.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Careful, now. You don’t know how many people would line up for the chance to help you out with that.” He held up his glass. “I, on the other hand, do. And congratulations. I honestly don’t know how you managed to make so many people so angry in such a short time. So angry, and so impatient.” He shook his head. “You’re a gifted girl.”
Ridley faltered no more. She grabbed her drink and splashed it at Lennox’s face.
“What the—” He was spluttering now.
“Screw you, Lennox Gates. Screw your giant Caster ego and your poser Siren club and your loser band. I don’t know what’s really going on here, but I know that none of this is about what happened during that card game.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Little Siren.”
“I’m talking about your rigged game and your creepy markers. I’m talking about you spying on my family and my boyfriend.”
“Spying on you?” His dark eyes shone as he put down his glass. “You know what I see when I look at you, Little Siren? Flames. Smoke and fire. It’s all over your future. I don’t know what it all means, but I can translate some of it for you.”
“Be my guest.” Great. He’s a Seer, too?
“How about, your future’s going up in smoke?” He wasn’t smiling.
“Screw with me and you’re going to get burned.” Ridley’s eyes were deadly.
“You know, there are so many things I want to say to that.” Nox winked.
“Here’s one. You mess with my friends, and I will come for you.” She stood up. “And if you ever speak to my sister again—any of my sisters—you better get yourself one hell of a bigger bouncer. Smoke that, Lennox.”
Lennox held up both hands, including the black envelope—a sign of surrender.
“I think I’m happy to stay out of your future.”
“Believe me. You were never in it.”
“Duly noted. Here, give this back to your sister. She’ll be home the second she touches it.”
Ridley grabbed it out of his hand. She walked away in a huff without so much as a glance back at him, even though she had no idea where they were or where she was going.
“Stairs on your left. Can’t miss them.” She heard a chuckle from the table behind her. He really did seem to be enjoying this, and it only made her more furious.
She had almost made it to the door when she heard the unmistakable sound of music from the club below. The thumping bass. The screeching lead guitar. The drums. God, the drums.
She knew this melody. She’d been listening to him rehearse it last night, when he thought she was sleeping.
“Sweet Meatballs.” That’s “Sweet Meatballs.”
Link is playing with the band.
What did Lennox Gates call them? Sirensong?
All of a sudden she could feel it. Lennox was standing right behind her. His voice was quiet and—if she had to pick a word to describe it—dangerous. “Your boyfriend has bigger problems than just me, Little Siren. But I bet you know that, since we’re both Dark Casters.”
Ridley didn’t answer for a long moment. When she did, she didn’t look at Lennox. “Know what?”
Lennox pulled a matchbook from his pocket, fingering it idly. “That they’ll come for him. That he’s a walking dead man. That there’s no happy ending, not when you’re the idiot who took out Abraham Ravenwood.” He took a step closer to her. “As I said, Casters have long memories. Incubuses, even longer. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”
Ridley could feel his breath on her neck.
He continued. “Look around. Half of them are here. It’s a Dark club. I’m a Dark guy. Who do you think my clients are?”
“Shut up.” She couldn’t look at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? Why do you think we wanted him to play his little drums here? Right here?” Nox shrugged. “And why not? I’m in the business of giving the people what they want. It’s what I do. If someone wants me to deliver a hybrid Incubus, why should I ask why?” Ridley’s heart was pounding, but Nox didn’t stop. “And if they wanted his friends? What then?”