He waited a few minutes to make sure they were gone before he headed for the trophy room or whatever it was. To Nox, it was nothing more than a thousand disembodied skins and heads. But there was a door on the other side of the room, and his gut told him to start there.
As he slipped past the mantel, the eyes of dead animals stared at him from every side, some mounted on the walls like the ones above the fireplace, others frozen in lifelike positions on the floor. In one corner, the back of a full-sized mountain lion ready to pounce served as a side table, complete with a crystal ashtray.
I should get one of those for my apartment.
Across the room, a grizzly stood at least ten feet tall, its massive claws rendered less frightening by the silver tray of cigars it was holding.
That one’s all Sampson.
Nox shook his head as he reached the door, remembering how much his own father had hated hunting. “Never take pleasure in killing anything, Nox,” he’d said. “Even if you don’t have a choice about doing it.”
Which is why my dad’s dead, Nox reminded himself, and Silas Ravenwood isn’t.
But his father had been right about one thing: This whole place was disgusting.
The scarlet-carpeted hallway didn’t have any alcoves, so he hoped for the best as he passed even more rooms.
He slid into the first open door and found himself in an office crammed with file cabinets and a huge computer monitor, facing a wall plastered entirely with photos of women. Green-eyed Light Casters, golden-eyed Dark Casters, and black-eyed Succubuses stared blankly back at him.
At least their eyes were open, which meant they were alive.
Then, Nox thought.
They were like an endless parade of victims at a crime scene—hundreds, maybe thousands.
Why only women? Are they all Sirens? After all these years, is that still all the Ravenwoods care about?
Nox looked more closely. Some of the photos were covered with huge black X’s. His stomach twisted as he imagined what those X’s might represent.
He tried not to think about it.
Nox scanned the wall, desperately praying Ridley’s photo wasn’t among them. But he wasn’t used to having his prayers answered, and this time wasn’t any different.
The picture was front and center, right near the top—a dazed-looking Ridley Duchannes. Even in the photo, she was as dead-eyed as every other face on the wall. But as with the others, her eyes were open.
For a second, Nox stopped breathing.
Because there wasn’t an X across her face.
She’s alive.
CHAPTER 10: RIDLEY
Shout at the Devil
Death would be better than this, Ridley thought as Silas unlocked her cell door.
She couldn’t remember feeling more desperate. More destroyed.
All this could’ve ended at the club. Maybe it should have.
For the first time, she felt the total absence of hope.
Silas moved toward her, flanked by his thugs. The smoke from his Barbadian cigar reached her first.
I wish I’d never made it out of Sirene.
It was too late. Link wasn’t coming. Neither was Lena or Ethan, Ridley or John. Not even Nox. A quick death would be the best outcome now.
Silas reached out and touched her cheek with the hand holding the cigar. Embers singed her skin, and she winced.
I wish I’d gone up in flames with the Beater.
Because Silas Ravenwood had a way of looking at you that made you want to die.
Predatory. Hungry. And desperate for my blood on his hands.
She could see it behind his eyes.
Ridley vowed right then never to let him see what was behind hers. Instead, she spat at his feet, her eyes blazing.
Silas Ravenwood only smiled.
“You’ve kept me waiting a long time, Miss Duchannes. And I’m not a patient man.” The sadistic glimmer in his eye reminded her of Abraham Ravenwood, another man who had taken pleasure from other people’s misery.
Ridley forced herself not to look away. “And all this time I thought you were just a bully and a scumbag.” She sat up on the mattress, lifting her chin.
Come a little closer.
You want to come a little closer.
Silas did, but then he shoved her down, grabbing her wrist. “I’m both of those things.” He smiled, leaning over her face until his eyes stared straight into hers. “And I’m about to become your worst nightmare.”
Her hands curled into fists.
You don’t want to hurt me.
You want to let me go.
Silas covered her mouth with his hand, his face hovering over hers. “Your turn, Siren. I’m going to let you go—”
Ridley felt a momentary surge of relief, but then Silas motioned to the guards behind him.
“—out of your room and straight into mine. Are you ready to find out what you’re really made of? Because I am.”
Ridley thrashed, angry at herself for believing Silas Ravenwood was stupid enough to leave himself open to a Siren’s powers. He must’ve found a Cast or potion or Charm that could render him immune to her.
She dreaded to think how he was doing it.
“Now, now.”
Ridley struggled to bite him, but the Incubus was squeezing her jawbones so hard it felt like he was crushing them.
When she tried to scream, the sound came out more like a whimper.
Silas licked his lips. “Caster got your tongue?” He snapped his fingers and his guards moved toward them. “Take her to the operating room.”
A hood came down over her head and everything went black.
Ridley couldn’t see much through the rough burlap hood, and every breath left her choking on dust. She was being dragged down some kind of hallway—bits of floor tile and the occasional doorway blurring past her.
Within minutes, the floor changed from tile to sterile white linoleum, and the scent of disinfectant made her gag. When they pushed her through a set of swinging doors and she heard the beeps and buzzing of machines, it seemed like they were in a hospital.
Why would Silas take her to a hospital?
He wouldn’t.
He’d made their destination sound far more menacing.
The operating room. That’s what he called it.
But everything around her reminded Ridley of a hospital—the fluorescent lights, the white floor, the stench of disinfectant.
The realization dawned on her slowly. If this wasn’t a hospital, there was only one other possibility….
Abraham’s labs.
The place where he’d experimented on Casters and engineered John. The place she’d known she was headed to the moment she saw Silas in her cell—and the one thing she’d feared more than anything.
Her blood ran cold.
Not there. Anywhere but there.
No! No! No!
Ridley kicked and thrashed until someone pressed a cloth against the burlap over her mouth and nose. It smelled like bleach and dust and alcohol, all mixed together.
It only took a second for her knees to buckle. Then her thoughts flickered and she disappeared into the darkness.
Ridley opened her eyes.
Darkness.
Footsteps.
A word, here and there.
Dangerous.
Experimental.
Fatal.
Patient 13.
Ridley blinked. A single circle of light was aimed at her face. She could barely make out the bulb hanging from a long wire above her, like it was reaching down from the black shadows of the ceiling.
The harsh light burned her eyes, but she didn’t look away. She didn’t want to look at Silas as he emerged from the darkness beside her.
You bastard.
“No risk, no reward,” Silas said, stepping closer to the table she was strapped to. “We’re making history here, Doc.”
“I understand, Mr. Ravenwood,” another man answered, his voice shaky. “But there are limits.?
??
“Not in my world.” Silas laughed. “Relax, Doc. All in the name of science, right?”
Ridley struggled to stay calm.
You have to be smart if you want to get out of this mess alive.
She pulled against the restraints.
Shackles.
She ran her hands along the table. Smooth, hard, cool. Metal, most likely.
An operating table.
“Don’t waste your energy.” Silas bent over her and flipped what sounded like a switch under the table. “You’re not going anywhere, Siren.” There was something strange about the way he said the word. “When I’m finished, you’ll be so much more.”
More? More of what?