“I—uh…I mean, thanks for invitin' me down here, sir,” Link stammered. “This whole Incubus thing has kinda come outta nowhere and kicked my butt. No offense.”
Macon dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. “None taken. Though I'm sure I don't need to remind you that the term Incubus no longer applies to my current state.”
Link scrunched up his forehead. “Sir?”
“I don't bite, Mr. Lincoln. Not that I ever did.”
Macon opened the door wider and stepped aside to let us in. “But now it's not even within the realm of possibility. Why don't you come in, so we can make sure that you can say the same?”
Link scratched his head, and I doubted he was catching more than half the words coming out of Macon's mouth. It was going to be a long day.
“You see, Mr. Lincoln, there comes a time in a young man's life when his body starts to change…”
Macon kept talking, and Link's face turned beet red.
Guess there were birds and bees in the Caster
Guess there were birds and bees in the Caster world, too.
I was pretty sure I was going to have to do some translating, until Macon final y gave up and said something Link understood perfectly. Something I was pretty sure he had never heard anyone say to him, least of al his own folks.
“Let's sit down, Wesley. You can ask me anything you want to know.”
The next time Link went to see Macon, he didn't ask me to come. I felt guilty about it, like I should've been there for him anyway. But Lena and I had been apart in so many ways, for so long, that we had a lot of catching up to do. When Link told me he took Ridley with him instead, I figured their train wreck of a relationship was bound to take its course, sooner or later.
“So I don't have to drink blood?” It was the same question Link had asked Lena the night he told us about the bite, and the same one he'd asked Macon the last time he was there. Link couldn't seem to get enough reassurance about it.
“Ugh!” Ridley sighed dramatical y. “Haven't we been over this, Shrinky Dink?” She was sitting next to Link, filing her purple polished nails. She looked total y bored, but she had insisted on coming along.
“Sorry, Mr. Ravenwood. Lena told me some of the basics, but I was pretty freaked out that night, and I don't remember much.”
“That's quite all right and completely understandable.” Macon poured himself a glass of sweet tea. “And the answer is no, Wesley. You don't have to drink blood. May I ask if you've experienced any other cravings?”
Link shook his head. “Not for blood.”
Ridley stopped filing.
“Have you been craving something else, son?”
Macon asked.
Ridley examined her nails so closely you would've thought she was a professional hand model.
“Just a mother's love,” she said. “And a record deal. Two things he'l never get. Right, Shrinky Dink?” She made a little sound in the back of her throat that was probably meant to be a giggle, but it came out more like a snarl. It wasn't a good sound.
“Ridley, let him answer.”
Link wasn't sure he wanted to, or even knew how to, answer that question. “I don't know exactly.” He hesitated. It was going to sound crazy. “Sometimes I get the urge to…I don't actual y know how to say this.”
“You can speak freely here, Wesley.”
Link glanced at the door like he was afraid his mother had her ear pressed against the other side.
“To watch people sleep.”
Ridley opened her mouth and shut it again, final y at a loss for words. She was paying attention now.
“Go on,” Macon encouraged. “It's only natural now that you're part Incubus. You aren't going to have the same desires as Mortals. Just be honest—there's no wrong answer.” Not unless he was taking a page out of Hunting's book and drinking people's blood.
Ridley looked away.
Link ran his hand over his spiked hair nervously. “I kinda want—to know what they're thinking.”
Macon nodded. “And do you know why that is?”
Link shook his head. Because I'm nuts?
“It's an urge to feed, Wesley,” Macon explained.
“You wil always find yourself drawn to the thoughts and dreams of Mortals because that is what sustains an Incubus who does not consume blood.”
Ridley stiffened when her uncle said “Mortal,” as if he was talking about her specifical y.
“So I have to read people's minds when they're sleepin'?” Link asked.
The color drained from Ridley's face. She looked completely panic-stricken, as if she was suddenly imagining Link standing over her bed, reading her thoughts.
Macon laughed. He seemed to be enjoying the chance to show someone else the ropes.
“Something like that. We can discuss the particulars when you come back tomorrow.” It wasn't a request.
“Do I have to feed?” Link asked.
Macon considered for a moment. “I'm not entirely sure how often you wil need to feed, considering John Breed's hybrid nature. I wil ask Olivia to do some research on the subject.”
Liv had been lying low since we had come back from the Great Barrier, but from what we'd heard, she was never far from Macon's side. Which basical y guaranteed a lifetime spent out of sight, since the folks in Gatlin thought Macon Ravenwood was in a pine box six feet under at His Garden of Perpetual Peace.
Macon seemed to like it that way, considering the smal fortune he spent grooming his gravesite. In that respect, he was no different from the rest of the folks in Gatlin. Not that Macon would have seen it that way. Except his flowers weren't plastic, and his headstone was surrounded by potted gardenias and hydrangeas, rather than glow-in-the-dark crosses.
“Thanks,” Link said grateful y. “I wouldn't wanna starve or anything. I definitely can't eat any a my mom's cookin' anymore.”
“That is unfortunate.” Macon took a long sip of his sweet tea. “Mortal food is certainly an unexpected perk of my transformation.”
“You know, it's not the sweet tea I miss as much as Amma's pie.”
“Ah, yes.” Macon smiled. “She brought me a beautiful lemon pie just this week.”
“Cream or meringue?”
“Cream.” Lemon meringue was strictly for Uncle Abner and the Greats. They both smiled—Link at the memory of al the pie in his past, Macon at the thought of al the pie in his future.
“Enough about pie. Get back to the part about powers,” Ridley said, annoyed. “Speaking of powers, you haven't mentioned yours, Uncle M. What kind of Caster are you, anyway? Not that we Mortals have a reason to care.”
“I think we should focus on Wesley today.” Macon drained his glass, refil ing it immediately. “There are some perks to being an Incubus, you know.”
“Like the superstrength?” Link was getting stronger every day. Just that morning, he had lifted his broken old bed off the ground with one hand while he was trying to pul out some contraband CDs.
“Among other things,” Macon answered. “You're a
“Among other things,” Macon answered. “You're a Supernatural now, Wesley. Your days as a Mortal are over. And you have powers that far exceed superior strength.”
Ridley stood up and walked over to the fireplace, unwrapping a stick of gum. It wasn't the Charmed gum that could Bind a lock to hold off Hunting and his Blood Pack. It was just regular Mortal bubble gum.
Link leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on the table. This was the part he was real y interested in. “What kinda powers? Can I bend metal?” Anyone could've told you that would be his first question. In Link's book, it was worth being part Incubus if it turned him into Magneto.
“I'm afraid not,” Macon answered. “But if it's any consolation, you can bend space, in a manner of speaking.”
“Huh?”
“Hel o? He's talking about Traveling.” Ridley's voice sounded far away.
“Precisely. You can dematerialize now,” Macon explained. “It can come in quite handy at times.”
Link was skeptical. “Yeah. That sounds sorta advanced, Mr. Ravenwood. Maybe we should save that one for later.”
They were stil talking when Ridley slipped out the door. Neither of them noticed. And this time, they weren't even talking about pie.
CHAPTER 4
Mortal Wounds
Link climbed the stairs that led from the Tunnels to Ravenwood Manor.
Where the hell did Rid go?
One second she was smacking her gum by the fireplace, and the next she was gone.
He reached up and pushed on the trapdoor that conveniently opened into Ridley's room. The fuzzy pink carpet was heavy, but Link popped the door open with one hand. The second he cracked the door, the Tunnel flooded with bright light.
Link covered his eyes with his free hand. “Jeez, whatcha doin' in there, Rid?”
“Don't sneak up on me like that!” A door slammed, and the light dimmed suddenly, as if she had flipped a switch. “You just about gave me a heart attack.”
Link was only halfway out of the Tunnel when he saw Ridley sitting on the floor, her back against the closet door. She looked about as innocent as a cat with a mouthful of feathers, but when he looked around the room, there was nothing going on.
Stil . This was Rid, so he took another look.
Nothing.
“Why'd you take off?” Link pul ed himself out of the Tunnel, letting the trapdoor slam shut behind him. He sat down in front of her.
“Do you real y think I want to sit around and listen to you and my uncle talk about al your stupid magical powers?” She kicked off her shoes and began rubbing her pink and purple toes.
Link was confused. Then again, Ridley was about as confusing as a girl could get. “You're the one who said you wanted to come with me.”
She flipped her hair, an old Siren habit she would probably never be able to break. There was something sad about it, like watching her unwrap those lol ipops. “I'm a Mortal now, Shrinky Dink. You don't need me.”
She got up, and he knew she was planning a quick getaway. Link grabbed her arm before she had the chance to run. “I'l always need you, Rid.”
Ridley bit her bottom lip. “For how long?”
“What are you talkin' about?” Link honestly had no idea. Girls were like aliens, and as far as he was concerned, Ridley was their queen. “Just tel me what's wrong.”
“This. Us.” She gestured at the empty space between them. “It's not going to work. We both know it, so let's just quit while we're ahead.”
Link felt the panic rise in his chest. She was going to bolt, the way she always did whenever he thought they were final y starting to get close. “What do you mean, Rid? You're my girl.”
Ridley shook her head. “Don't you get it? That's the problem. I'm a girl—an average, worthless Mortal girl. I'm not a Supernatural anymore. I'm a super-nothing. And you're a hard-core, walk in the daylight Incubus.”
“Quarter Incubus.”
“Wel , I'm a hundred percent Mortal. So we have nothing in common.”
Link grabbed her shoulders. She winced, and he tried to loosen his grip before he accidental y snapped a few bones. “We never had anythin' in common, and it never mattered before. You were a Siren and I was a regular guy. You were Third Degree Burns hot, and I was Thirty Degrees Below cool.”