Page 32 of This Ravenous Fate
“Tired?” Layla asked. She was several paces ahead of Elise on the street. “You’re dragging your feet.”
A hot flush burned Elise’s cheeks. She scowled at the back of Layla’s head while she scrambled to catch up, trying to keep her footsteps light. “I spend my time composing music and practicing, not breaking and entering like you. I was not raised to have the stealth of a bandit,” Elise muttered. While she bristled with irritation at Layla’s comment, a small part of her remembered when they were younger; whenever Elise got tired, her entire body seemed to slump, her legs and feet especially. It bothered her mother, but Layla was always the first to notice. She would squeeze Elise’s hand and rise onto her tiptoes to whisper in her ear,“gentle steps, Lisey.”That warning would save her from getting a scolding from her mother.
Now, Layla’s words were more like mockery than a gentle warning. Still, Elise picked her feet up and tried to walk in a quieter manner.
Up ahead, Layla’s shoulders tensed. “In case you forgot, we were basically raised together. If I’m a bandit, then so are you.”
Elise rolled her eyes. Though Layla was not wrong. They hadbeen raised together, the Quinns and Saints building their lives in a parallel fashion since Mr. and Mrs. Saint had first arrived in New York. A fateful shared train car brought them together, and their bond only grew once they each had daughters the same age. “I’m so sorry,Your Majesty,” Elise drew out sarcastically. “I will do my best to no longer annoy you.”
“I’m not worried about you annoying me. I am, however, worried about your shuffling drawing attention to us. One day you will get me killed.” Layla stopped and stared hard at Elise. “Oh, wait. You already did.”
Elise’s heart skipped a beat.
The smile that curved Layla’s lips started that painful thrumming in Elise’s chest, an electric current coursing through her. “One thing I will allow you to do is call me ‘Your Majesty,’” Layla said. She leaned closer, and Elise felt her breath on her face, warm, yet threatening. “Say it again; it sounded good.”
This time, Elise was certain her heart stopped. Heat bloomed in her chest, her pulse going hot while it rushed through her, as if chasing after Layla’s words. For once, what held her heart was not ire, and Elise almost welcomed the thorny thrill Layla’s words stirred in her. She went still, her feet fixed to the sidewalk even when Layla walked off. If she wasn’t made of flesh and pure resistance, Elise might have crumpled in Layla’s wake.
***
Layla loved getting under Elise’s skin. It incited in her an exhilaration akin to the high she got from feeding. The stunned look on Elise’s face lit a flame in her so bright, Layla was tempted to fan the embers and relish in whatever destruction they brought. But she knew it was reckless to further fray the already tense strings between them.
When they finally found Shirley Redfield’s apartment building, Layla sensed something was wrong. The scent of decay followed them up the staircase all the way to the dancer’s door. Their knocks were met with silence on the other side. Though Layla sensed no movement inside, she still held a hand up to stop Elise.
“Stay out here,” she said quietly.
Elise shook her head and reached for the gun at her belt. “No. We’re working together. Besides, I don’t want to give you an opportunity to sweep your illegal activity under the rug.”
“Really? There could be a reaper who is coming down from a blood high in there and you’re worried about me double-crossing you?” Layla asked.
“Always,” Elise said flatly.
Layla’s lips pursed. Whatever Elise saw in her had nothing to do with Layla and everything to do with Elise proving herself to her father. Still, her stubbornness got under Layla’s skin more than she cared to admit. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. Layla tried to open the door, but Elise grabbed her wrist.
“You can’t just break into people’s homes!” Elise said in a low voice.
Elise’s fingers on Layla’s skin sent an icy shock through her. Layla released a nervous breath and wrenched her arm free. “Shirley hasturned. I can smell the blood. This home is no longer for people, it’s now a reaper’s lair. Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” she said.
Elise’s jaw tightened. The hand with which she had grabbed Layla flexed by her side. She swallowed and nodded toward the door. “I don’t trust you. But go ahead.”
Inside the apartment was darker than the falling dusk outside. Shadows covered every surface where light was supposed to hit and the stale scent of old blood clung to the air. A quick glance at Elise’s face and the noticeable scrunching of her nose told Layla she could smell it too.
Elise pulled her gun out. The silver revolver glinted against the dark, her hand holding it steady while they moved farther into the apartment.
“Do you even know how to use that?” Layla hissed. “I distinctly remember you being too afraid to kill spiders; your father trusting you with a gun was a mistake—”
Elise ground her teeth so hard, Layla could practically hear her frustration. Satisfaction curled in Layla’s stomach, and the corner of her mouth ticked up into a slight smile.
Layla followed the murky scent of blood to a room in the back that had to be Shirley’s bedroom. Besides the disarray and blood spots, there was no indication of anyone living in the apartment. The kitchen was spotless, no used dishes in the sink, and the living room was orderly, throw blankets folded neatly on the couch, magazines stacked in place on the coffee table. Framed photographs depicted a happy family.
“No sign of the parents,” Elise said.
Layla sighed. “They’re most likely dead. There’s enough blood in this place to bathe in it.”
“That was unnecessary,” Elise mumbled.
Layla ignored her discomfort. She placed a hand on the doorknob of the bedroom door. “Last chance to take cover,” Layla warned.
Elise looked pointedly at the door and lifted her gun. Her thumb traced a cross over the handle. Once, twice, then a third time. “Stop stalling.”
