Page 3 of This Ravenous Fate
“Youare here to celebrate the ten-year anniversary of this empire, Elise. Your priorities should be set on being perfect for your father. People need to see that the heir of this business is focused on—” Her mother sucked in a sharp breath and looked away. She reached up topush an imaginary loose curl behind her ear. “Let me worry about Josephine. You worry about yourself.” She proceeded up the stairs.
Elise trailed behind.Heir. Elise didn’t feel like the heir of the Saint empire. No, that role should have gone to someone whose name their family brought up only once a year, when they had enough time to prepare for the rolling pain that came with her memory. On the stair landing, Elise stared at the massive family portrait for the first time in five years and a shudder passed through her. The vibrant paint strokes could not conceal the absence haunting their family, the ghost that brought ruination to their memories.
“Your father is entertaining some new partners at the Savoy tonight,” her mother called from the top of the stairs. “We will meet him there later.”
Swallowing hard, Elise nodded. “Father is not home?” The news struck a chord of hurt in her, knowing she had been worrying about what he thought of her, yet he could not be bothered to be home for her. Another part of her felt distinct relief that she could put off facing him for a few hours.
“No, something came up at the factory.”
Elise opened her mouth to say something, but her mother was already halfway down the hallway. She shook her head and continued to her room. Much to her disappointment, someone had pulled it apart, rendering it nearly unrecognizable from the state she had grown up in. Though the blood from her last night there was gone, thankfully. New white drapes identical to the ones she had when she was little surrounded her four-poster bed, which was stilladorned with countless throw pillows and silk blankets. It was all recognizable enough, but she knew they were replacements to erase the bloodshed that had once filled her room. Even the books, the pictures, the records, the letters—the things that made herherwere missing. The old Paris Conservatory music box she had wished on and wound up every night after piano class was gone, too—the main thing that had drawn her to Paris willingly, before Layla had given her no choice but to flee there. Elise had left so quickly all those years ago, she didn’t even get to pack up her most precious belongings. And now they were gone. Her throat tightened with disappointment as she reached into her closet and picked out the nicest dress she could find.
***
The heart of Harlem came alive that night at the dance hall, and Elise stood witness to its allure. The music of the jazz band pulsed around her, shaking her bones and pounding between her heartbeats. The dance floor was a spectacle, and the lights strung throughout the club seemed to chase every sequin and crystal woven into the attire of the partygoers. The attendees were taking a risk to be out during prime reaper hours, their drunken haze and the threat of danger amplifying the thrill they sought.
Those who did not dance talked, their sharp voices carrying through the crowd. Politicians conferred with gangsters, their wallets pressed to their palms and spilling cash between their fingers.Actresses draped themselves over the tables, blowing out hot smoke as they twisted pearls around their necks and spoke of their dream roles. Stoic heiresses forced smiles and lifted their chins to ensure their jewelry caught the light. Money, class, and diplomacy mixed to create a bacchanal of chaos, the most dangerous cocktail.
Prohibition had been in effect for six years by now, but many had learned how to skirt the selective enforcement, especially in Harlem. An owner of such a glamorous establishment would be well connected and able to fend off, or pay off, any legal suspicions. People came to clubs in Harlem for more than just dancing, and tonight, it felt like everyone was at the Savoy, drinking and dancing beneath the cut glass chandelier. Racial integration occurred in the search for liquor and urban thrills.
Elise narrowly avoided colliding with a couple dancing the Charleston and bumped shoulders with Sterling.
“What do you think of the Savoy so far?” he asked. “It opened while you were away.” He lifted a couple drinks from a passing waiter’s tray stacked high with crystal glasses. “I’m assuming the clubs are not as colorful in France,”
“You assume wrong,” said Elise, taking a glass from him. Admittedly, the Savoy Ballroom was glorious so far. As her eyes traveled over the vibrant crowd again, she spotted her mother and Josi near the tables. Her younger sister wore an expression of pure awe. She clapped wildly, silk bows in her hair stirring while she watched a row of costumed dancers over on the bandstand stage. Nearby stood her father, Tobias Saint, patriarch and leader of the ever-growingSaint empire, in deep conversation with a business associate.
“Elise, if you’re not going to drink that, please allow me—” Sterling couldn’t even get his words out before Elise downed her drink.
She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth and grinned. “Champagne is much better in France too.” Elise’s gaze slipped past her friend, finding her father’s cold eyes staring right at her. His jaw had gone tight, and not a hint of warmth touched his expression. Then, almost as soon as Elise had caught his eye, her father turned, a smile cracking across his face while he continued the conversation with his companions.
Ice spiraled down Elise’s spine. She breathed in deeply, trying to settle her nerves, but the thick air and the heat it carried made it nearly impossible. Sterling nudged his elbow into her side and nodded toward the dance floor. “Dance with me.”
Elise shook her head. She had put off greeting her father for long enough. “I want to check on Josi first.” She left Sterling by the edge of the dance floor and made her way through the crowd to her family. When Josi saw Elise, her face lit up, and she rushed right into Elise’s arms.
“My angels,” her father crooned. He looked the same as Elise remembered him—tailored black suit, silver cuff links glinting. The exhaustion in his black eyes betrayed the time more than his face. He turned back to his associate, an older Black man with a severe expression. “This is what I fight to protect,” Elise heard him say.
The half-hearted acknowledgment stung, but she supposed itwas better than his usual overbearing attitude.
Josi tugged on Elise’s arm. “I want to go by the bandstand so I can see the dancers better!” She had begged to come tonight, and Elise never had the heart to tell her no. They began to make their way across the crowded dance floor. Elise’s eyes scanned the crowd, stiff hands on Josi’s shoulders to steer her clear of any commotion, but her sister seemed completely unfazed, bouncing along with the music. As they got closer to the stage, Elise’s dress felt heavy. With each step brushing against the silk hems of the nearby revelers or catching on their jewelry, it felt less like luxury couture and more like an extravagant trap.
Suddenly, Josi’s shoulders slipped from beneath Elise’s fingers. Elise gasped, “Josi!” She tried to rush after her, but someone collided with her. Feathers from a woman’s boa went up Elise’s nose and into her mouth. For a moment, her world went black, and the music swallowed her panicked shriek.
“Oh, heavens, I’m so sorry!” the woman said as she finally drew away. By now, Elise had lost sight of Josi, and the crowd seemed to close in on her. But she finally spotted her sister, her white dress a beacon. The showgirl dancers formed a neat line at the edge of the stage, blowing Josi kisses.
Elise almost thought it was sweet. But then she saw the dancers’ faces; what should have been radiant brown skin beneath the lights looked pale, as if their blood had been drained. Their eyes held a vacant stare in the bright stage lights. The sound of the crowd faded around Elise, and time seemed to slow as the dancers’ bloodred lipsstretched into wide slashes against their pale faces, teeth gleaming. One reached forward, hand outstretched toward Josi. Elise saw the dancer’s eyes go black, a glimpse of fangs behind her sanguine-slicked smile.
A familiar face flashed in Elise’s mind, sending her back to her blood-soaked bedroom five years ago, Layla crouching over her with dripping fangs and a ravenous snarl. She was too close. Josi would be next.
“Josi!” she shrieked. She stumbled, crashing into a waiter. His tray toppled over, and champagne sprayed the air.
The sound of shattering glass jolted Elise’s senses back to the present. Only a few nearby guests stopped their dancing—the rest of the ballroom carried on, the music drowning out the commotion. On the stage, the dancers were shuffling away, feathered fans covering their faces.
Elise felt a strong hand clamp onto her shoulder. “Careful,” her father muttered as he took her hand and helped her over the glass and champagne-soaked floor.
“Father—” she started, but he shook his head, pulling her out of the crowd. He waved to his guests to bid them goodnight. And while his smile never wavered, his grip grew so tight around Elise’s hand that her fingers were numb by the time they made it out of the Savoy.
Elise could not hide her relief when Colm finally pulled up with the car and her father released her hand. She took her seat between Josi and Sterling, and her parents sat opposite them. The momentthe door closed, the smile dropped from her father’s face.
Elise’s heart rate picked up. “Did you see the reapers? They were there, weren’t they?”
