Page 7 of This Ravenous Fate
But she hated when other reapers tried to act like their lives were normal. There was nothing normal about their tendencies, or the way they were made. Layla was sick of the delusion.
“Mei had an incident. So you need to be extra careful around here, because we cannot afford any more slipups,” Layla said through gritted teeth.
Giana’s eyes darkened. “Everyone knows about Mei. Jamie’s men have been whispering about it all morning. She’s the only one in danger.”
Layla took a deep breath, forcing the rise of anger back down. “We all stick together. Whatever happens to one reaper affects us all. You know this. No oneherehas your back. Did it ever occur to you how twisted it is to be hired by a club that wants to profit from your talents, but won’t allow your own people to be your audience?”
“I must support myself somehow. If I need to dance for the whites, then I will.” Giana petted the thick white fur pelt that hung across her shoulders, over her dazzling dress.
Irritation clawed up Layla’s spine. But she bit back a sharp response and sighed. “Just come home sometime today.”
After Giana had disappeared backstage, Layla turned back to Jamie, who was watching her and Mei with twinkling blue eyes. “Anything else you need to tell us, Jamie?”
A muscle popped in his cheek as he threw her a sidelong look. Jamie reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick piece of paper. On it was the unmistakable Saint seal: the lotus flower and North Star. “The Saint empire’s ten-year celebration. I thought you might want to know. You know, because of your little vendetta.” Jamie grinned at Layla.
She wanted to smack the smile off his face. “Why do you have this?” Layla demanded.
Jamie shrugged. “My men have more connections than you know of, Quinn. I would worry about what this anniversary means for your little clan.”
If normal humans hated reapers, then the Saints had a blood oath with the devil to keep reapers contained. For years they’d been allied with the New York City police to control the reaper population. Though these days it seemed less about control and more about eradication. And Layla had known the Saints, back when her parents were still alive. She had been close enough to Elise once that she was practically considered a member of the Saint family. That was before everything went to hell.
Sometimes she still woke up screaming in fury, from dreams where blood coated her hands after hunting Elise down. The nightthey’d separated was still fresh in Layla’s mind even if it had happened years ago. Her heart had never healed. And she hoped Elise’s never did either.
3
In the dining room of the Saint mansion, Elise sat rigidly in her white silk gown, pearls weighing on her neck. Her father had insisted on this family dinner but he hadn’t yet come to the table.
Just a few minutes ago, she had gone to knock on his office door to tell him dinner was ready, the way she used to when she was younger and would tug him down to the dining room while he tried to guess what would be served.
But her mother had caught her hand and hissed, “You are not to interrupt him. He will come on his own. Go sit down.”
Elise’s face still burned with embarrassment.
Finally, when the ancient grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed seven o’clock, their father walked in.
“My beautiful family.” His deep voice filled the room. He stopped next to his wife to place a gentle kiss on her cheek before taking the seat at the head of the table. “My beautiful, perfect family. Last nightwas a spectacle, butthisis irreplaceable. It has been ages since we had a proper family dinner like this, and we must commemorate the moment.” The table wasn’t so big that it would keep Elise from reaching across to touch her parents’ hands if she wanted to. But somehow her father seemed a great distance away.
“Dinnertime!” Josi cheered.
“Josephine—” their mother scolded.
But Mr. Saint just shook his head and spoke under his breath, “Analia.” He reached into his jacket and brandished a small black box. “Josi, come.”
Josi wasted no time in scrambling out of her chair to his side. Her eyes widened as he opened the box for her. “This is mine?” Josi asked, stunned.
Mr. Saint raised the box so the whole table could see. Inside the box was a silver signet ring, the Saint family seal engraved on the front.
Mrs. Saint nodded her approval. “Remember, Josephine, when you turned ten, you accepted new responsibilities. That includes keeping track of your jewelry,” she said to Josi.
Josi slipped the ring onto her finger and danced around the room, her eyes never leaving the new gleaming silver on her hand. A small smile lifted Elise’s lips as she watched her younger sister’s joy. Then she felt her father’s hand on her shoulder, gentle, but firm. He slid a tiny box in front of her, red velvet with gold flowers embossed on the front.
“For you, my pearl,” her father murmured. He stood and placeda soft kiss on the crown of her head.
In the box was a signet ring identical to Josi’s, but gold. It glowed against the black velvet interior of the box. Elise’s breath left her body when she realized exactly what her father was emphasizing with these gifts.
Everyone would see the wearer of this ring for a member of the Saint empire. And with such a well-known symbol, Elise would be recognized everywhere she went. These rings… Their sacredness rivaled that of the one her mother wore. Hers was a wedding band that promised loyalty to her father, while Elise’s ring was one that swore loyalty to her family’s empire.
“Thank you, Father.” Elise smiled tightly as her father took his seat.
