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Ridley looked away.
There was something about saying the words out loud that finally made Link understand. “Oh, I get it. When you were a Caster, it was all good. But now that I’m the supernatural one, things won’t work out.” He took his hands off her shoulders and shoved them into his pockets awkwardly. “Because I’m just some dumb hick, right?”
She stared up at the ceiling, focusing on a thin crack in the perfectly white plaster. It was funny how one tiny crack could completely ruin something perfect.
“You are a dumb hick if that’s what you think.” Ridley hesitated.
Link leaned forward, his forehead touching hers. “Can a dumb hick do this?” He leaned in and kissed her as softly as he could.
“Yes. And this.” She pushed against him and kissed Link as hard as she could. Then she hauled herself up off the floor and took off before he could say a word.
Still, he was almost sure she was smiling.
Link picked up one of Ridley’s sky-high heels and stared at it. Usually, he just wondered how she walked in those things, which was the closest Link ever came to contemplating physics.
Today all he could think about was the box sitting next to the shoes.
There was something familiar about it, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why. Maybe he really was a dumb hick.
If he hadn’t been staring so closely at the shoe box, he might have noticed the light still glowing, bright as a flashlight, through the crack beneath the closet door.
By the time Macon sent Link a Caster key a few days later, Ridley and Link were back together again, as thick as thieves. I felt sort of jealous—not about Rid but about Macon. Seriously. I mean, I had saved Macon’s life, and even I didn’t have a Caster key to the Tunnels.
“You also don’t have to hide that you’re a Supernatural from your mother, who doesn’t even like Methodists,” Lena pointed out.
I guess she was right.
Link didn’t have to wait long to try out his Caster key. We were shooting hoops over at the middle school court in the blazing heat, the blacktop practically melting into tar, when Boo showed up with a piece of paper rolled around his collar.
It wasn’t signed, but we both knew who it was from.
“What am I, a spy now?” Link crumpled the paper and tossed it into the green metal trash can. I half expected it to catch fire when it hit the rim.
“Macon is supposed to be dead,” I reminded him.
Link bounced the ball from one hand to the other. “Oh, right. I guess it isn’t that weird, then.” Only it was, and we both knew it.
If we only knew how weird.
CHAPTER 5
Priority Mail
Three hours later, Link knocked on Macon’s door in the Tunnels. He wondered if the Caster key would have worked on this door, too. He’d probably never know, since there was no way he was going to try it. Macon Ravenwood wasn’t an Incubus anymore, but he was still a seriously badass Caster. Even if he wouldn’t tell them what he could do.
Link was ticking off the possibilities in his mind when the door swung open. Macon Ravenwood was holding a glass of sweet tea. Big surprise. Pretty soon he was going to need an IV.
“Mr. Lincoln, I’m impressed. Four o’clock on the dot.” Macon stepped aside so Link could come in. “I believe punctuality is an entirely underrated quality, at least by your contemporaries.”
As usual, Link had no idea what Macon was saying. “Uh—okay, sir.”
“Please have a seat.” Macon gestured toward the pair of wing chairs in the corner. “I apologize for the cryptic nature of my message, but the matter we need to discuss is of great importance.”
“Sir?” Link dropped down into the chair, and the wood groaned.
“I need you to deliver an urgent message for me, Wesley.” Macon glanced at the polished table between the chairs. A heavy cream envelope was lying on it.
“You want me to deliver a letter?” Couldn’t Mr. Eaton do that? He delivered the Casters’ mail, too.
