Liv’s expression softened. She glanced at the strange-looking device on her wrist. Link hadn’t seen her selenometer in so long that he’d almost forgotten about it. It looked like a crazy black watch, but Link knew it measured all kinds of stuff, like the moon’s gravitational pull.
She’d used it before, when things were almost this grim. The sight of it brought back all kinds of crazy, terrible memories.
He looked away.
“You and Ridley should never have gone to New York. I had a bad feeling about it from the beginning,” Liv said. “I never should’ve helped you fake that acceptance letter.” Liv had been a key part of Link’s Escape from Gatlin plan, especially the part that involved a little forgery and the invention of a fictional Bible college named Georgia Redeemer.
Link turned red.
“Wait a minute,” Floyd said. “What was Link supposed to do, just give up his dream? Ridley basically sold him in a card game, and Link didn’t even know it. It’s not like she’s an angel. I watched it happen.”
“Excuse me?” Liv stared at Floyd for a long moment, and the Illusionist seemed to shrink back in her chair a little. “Who’s the girl?”
It was the same question John had asked.
Two questions, really.
Who is this Dark Caster and why is she with you?
Link didn’t answer, and Floyd tensed. “The girl has a name. Two, actually. If you want to get technical.”
“Oh, I always want to get technical,” Liv said.
Link put his hand on her arm. As much as he appreciated the concern, it wasn’t helping. “Come on, Liv. Freakin’ out on Floyd won’t help us find Rid any faster. I need your A-game right now.”
“I’m not freaking out. I’m just stating the facts.” Liv looked like she was about to cry, which was when Link realized none of this emotion was about Floyd at all. Liv was worried about Ridley, too.
John slid his arm around her shoulder, giving her a sympathetic squeeze.
Link looked at Liv and John. “It’s okay, you guys. Floyd is our friend from New York—Rid’s and mine. She wants to help, and right now, we need all the help we can get.”
Liv looked away.
Link tugged on Floyd’s arm. “Give Liv a break. One of her best friends is missin’.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Floyd shrugged sheepishly. “I know. I mean, how you all feel. Ridley’s a pain in the butt, but she’s our pain in the butt, right?”
Link almost fell over. It was pretty much the nicest thing Floyd had ever said about Rid, and he knew what it cost her to say it.
“Well, she’s certainly not anyone else’s.” Liv sighed.
Link smiled, in spite of everything. It already felt better, just knowing he had John and Liv back by his side.
“Are you guys positive Silas Ravenwood has her?” Liv asked him, getting back to business, the gears in her head already turning.
Link shook his head. “No. I mean, I didn’t see him take her or anythin’. But one of his trucks hit the Beater, and now she’s gone.”
Liv frowned. “Do we know where Silas might be keeping her?”
“We’re pretty sure he’s running things from somewhere near the labs. That’s why we need John’s help.”
John looked sick at the mention of the place where he grew up and Abraham experimented on him, but he just nodded.
Liv sighed and took out her little red journal. She began scribbling furiously, most likely writing down everything that had just happened, if only for the records the Keepers were responsible for maintaining. Who knew? Link could never track where her brain was headed next. When she finished, she closed the book. “We need to get going.”
“What do you mean, we?” John looked at her, sounding shocked. “You have classes.”
“I can email my professors and tell the Keepers overseeing my training that there’s an emergency at home,” she said. “Where you go, I go. That’s the deal.”
She held up her hand. Her ring was dead now, just like John’s and Link’s. The sight of the colorless rings made her point even clearer.
“Liv,” John said quietly. “We’re talking about Silas Ravenwood. It’s too dangerous.”
She pocketed her journal. “That’s why you need me. And that’s why I’m coming.”
He shook his head. “Liv, please.” The way John said her name, the way he looked at her—Link could hear it all in his voice. The crazy feelings John had for her. All the crazy fears about what could happen to her.
Been there, Link thought.
I’m still there. Still crazy. Still afraid.
It never gets any better. Not when you love someone so much it breaks you.
Liv stood up and tucked her pencil behind her ear. “We can argue about it on the way.”
CHAPTER 6: NOX
South of Heaven
Less than an hour later, Nox stood in front of the Heavens. The name of the high-rise was a cruel joke on the Caster junkies squatting inside. Mortals might have invented street drugs, but Dark Casters had perfected them.
This was where the stitched yellow sun on the embroidered pillow had sent him.
Straight to the source of the Sunshine itself.
Sunshine was the Syndicate’s latest achievement: a designer narcotic synthesized in Syndicate-run kitchens all over the Underground—a toxic combination of opiates and Dark magic. Casters who tried the stuff were hooked after one hit. It was the reason Nox had banned Sunshine from his clubs, Dark Casters and their demands notwithstanding. Sunshine led to trouble, and pain.
Nox had never been interested in drugs himself. His only addictions were power and control, at least until he met Ridley. Whether or not there should be a twelve-step program for getting away from the pull of that particular Siren was another matter entirely.
The thought of what Silas might be doing to her, if she was still alive, sent him through the revolving metal door and into the building.
Get in and get out. For her.
The square atrium on the other side gave Nox a clear view of all eighteen floors above him. Each floor was identical. Numbered metal doors lined the walls behind the broken metal railings overlooking the atrium. In another life, the Heavens had been a low-rent tenement building, until the Syndicate took over.
Bodies slumped against the railings on every floor. He wondered how many of them were already dead. Given the road they were on, it was a technicality.
A filthy Dark Caster stumbled toward him, her golden eyes glazed, as if she was feverish. Other Casters wandered out of the stairwells with the same dazed expression on their faces, like zombies. None of them seemed to notice him—or anything else. He trudged up the stairs, dodging the junkies huddled in the corners smoking Sunshine from tinfoil pipes. When he reached the seventh floor, he spotted a dealer.
The Incubus stood in the corner, doling out cellophane bags filled with what looked like yellow rocks to the addicts shoving cash into his hands.
“I don’t have any money,” an emaciated girl said to him. “But I’ll trade my powers.”
The Incubus laughed, baring his canines, and shoved her away. “You ran out of powers a long time ago. No money, no Shine.”
The Shine—that was what they called the high that people got from Sunshine.
Nox felt sick just watching them, but he didn’t have time to play hero. He elbowed his way to the front of the line, holding up a hundred-dollar bill between his fingers. “Then it looks like I came to the right place.”
Come on, already.
The dealer raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You must be having a serious party. How much do you want?”
“I’m not looking to score any Sunshine,” Nox said. “I want information.”
He thought of the TFPs at his disposal. But this particular scumbag was too pathetic to waste one on. The pull of Shine to an addict was a power all its own—and one that required nothing more special than money.
And unlike TFPs, Nox had almost an infi
nite supply of that.
It was impossible to gauge an Incubus’ emotions when the only thing you could see in their black eyes was your own reflection. “What kind of information?”
Nox pulled out another hundred. “I’m looking for a Caster who hangs out here. People call him the Chemist.”
The Incubus laughed and snatched the hundreds. “Not anymore.”
“Do you know where he is or not?”
The Incubus nodded toward the stairs. “Eighteenth floor. Apartment 13. Unless he jumped, he’ll be inside.” He saluted, pocketing the money.
Nox ignored him.
There was only one junkie who interested him. One he’d known a long time ago, before the guy was an addict—after his mom had been taken and his father was a broken man.
When Abraham Ravenwood governed everything about their lives and Nox’s childhood was full of rules. But one rule was more important than all the others combined: Never ask about Abraham’s labs.
Nox closed his eyes as the memories came flooding back….
Mom was making tea when Abraham burst into the kitchen, looking more agitated than usual.