Page 8 of This Ravenous Fate
He raised his champagne flute. “This weekend, we celebrate a decade of this business as well as ten years of Elise’s success with her music.” His focus settled on Elise. “I do hope you will have some good news following your auditions, my pearl.”
Elise’s breath stalled in her chest. Soon, she would announce her acceptance into the Paris Conservatory. She hoped her father would be proud of her. “Perhaps,” she said quietly.
Something bright sparked in her father’s eyes. “You’ve survived a lot. It’s not easy to go on after such upheaval in your life. But you persevered. And I want you to show everyone that a Saint never backs down. A Saint never kneels. A Saint never falls.”
The room seemed to still with the intensity of his voice, and Elise swallowed hard. Darkness shrouded her mother’s face while her father shared a look with her, nodding slightly. Mr. Saint clearedhis throat. “The Saint empire has become something of a marvel these past ten years. But we must never forget why we began.”
Her mother’s breath grew shaky; Josi’s doe eyes settled on Elise, a deep sadness clouding them. Elise ducked her head as her father continued to speak. “We celebrate our success now, but more than anything, we celebrate Charlotte’s life. My Charlotte, taken too early by the greatest evil known to man. Charlotte, my first heir and my true saint.”
Mr. Saint rose and walked slowly to the fireplace at the front of the room, where he lifted an ornate box from the mantel. Elise’s chest grew heavy as he placed the box in the middle of the table and opened it. Inside sat a silver revolver. All air vanished from Elise’s lungs.
It held the same shine it had ten years ago, when Elise had seen her older sister wield it to defend her life. They had been playing chess that night—Charlotte teaching Elise some of her favorite sneaky moves. The windows of the old house—the brownstone on 148th Street where they lived on the first floor—rattled in the wind of the impending storm. Their parents were out; it was rare for both of them to be gone at once, but the Quinns had insisted on treating them to dinner while Layla endured an evening dance rehearsal. Elise remembered her tooth was loose, and Charlotte kept begging to pull it out for her. The moment she let her—the moment the first drop of blood dribbled down her chin—something smashed through the nearest window.
The world seemed to move in a blur after that. Elise could onlyremember her older sister dragging her into their parents’ bedroom, her hand fumbling on the handle of her father’s revolver as she pushed Elise into a wardrobe. Elise didn’t even know the thing could lock, but she banged on the door from the inside and screamed so hard her voice went hoarse. Still, she could hear her sister’s gun firing and the sound of snarling reapers throughout the house. Until finally, her gun stopped and nothing but silence and the scent of blood filled the air.
That first attack from anonymous reapers had spawned fear that altered Elise’s entire world. The next attack, years later and by her own friend, had shattered it.
Mr. Saint turned to Josi and Elise, eyes red lined and shining. “Her death made me realize I needed to do more to protect all of you. The bullets were not enough. Now we have trained men who act as protectors of this city—everywhere you look, there is Saint influence. You two carry on Charlotte’s legacy. You live because of her sacrifice,” Mr. Saint muttered. He traced his finger over the engraved cross on the handle of the gun. “For this ten-year celebration, it’s important to establish new ambitions. We have lasted this long building the business on Charlotte’s death, but now we move forward with the empire powered by a new life.” Mr. Saint looked at Josi, whose eyes were transfixed on the gun. “You never met Charlotte, my love, but you carry her in you. For that reason, her legacy is yours. You are our last Saint, but now you are my first heir.”
Elise’s breath stuttered out of her. “Josi?” she whispered.
Her sister went to her father and wrapped her arms around hisneck, leaning her head against his shoulder, her brown eyes wide on the glimmering future set before her.
Born after her death, Josi had never known Charlotte. But that also meant she did not know the violence that had torn Charlotte’s young life from her, and was too young to remember the years of spilled blood that followed. To be attached to such horrors at Josi’s young age… Elise hated it. But she also wondered if it was inevitable because of who they were and what their family represented. Elise’s first experience with reapers had been a baptism into violence. She’d been introduced to malice before most children; being a young Black girl, vulnerability was inherent, protection nonexistent. Even in a world where there were beasts that fed on blood and drank human hearts dry, Elise often felt less than human, worse than every reaper in existence.
Perhaps there was no hope for Josi either. Josi stared at her new ring with the brightest eyes, as if she held the entire world on her finger. For the Saint empire to one day be this young girl’s responsibility made Elise’s stomach turn.
“Yes, Elise. Someone must take over the empire when I die. Josi will begin hunter training soon at our base and her lessons will pivot to strategy,” Mr. Saint said. “Josi is such a young, new life, the reapers here have no existing strife with her. Unlike you. You have endured multiple attacks. The Harlem reapers still want your blood, Elise. A reaper that tastes human blood never forgets. You were safe in France, where no one knew you, and that is why we cannot risk you being here for longer than is necessary.”
Elise’s heart pounded.
“Daddy, will I still get to dance?” Josi asked.
Mr. Saint shook his head. “Not anymore.”
The Saint empire was bound to eat her little sister alive. Elise thought she might die if Josi’s light was extinguished for the sake of this cruel business.
“No fair. Lisey got to do her music in France.”
A small chuckle left Mr. Saint. “You will be doing much greater things here, my love.”
Heat exploded across Elise’s cheeks and behind her eyes. Her father did not care about her endeavors. She clenched her jaw as the letter from the Paris Conservatory burned in her mind.
Elise considered the childhood Josi deserved, slipping away right before them. Gone, like Charlotte’s life, before it could even begin.
***
Layla dreamed of music. But it was not the lilting, delicate music she used to spend hours dancing to as a little girl. It was a haunting melody that she had only ever replayed in her mind while conjuring up images of blood-soaked snow, of her own fingers digging into the feeble throat of her most bitter enemy. It was Elise Saint’s song.
The second this thought came to mind, Layla forced herself awake.
After running around the city all day, trying to deal with the mess Mei had created and urging clan members to return for a meeting, she’d had no energy left. But this dream had her jumping out ofbed and rubbing her eyes. Layla would rather go days without sleep if it meant not having to confront the demons of her past before she’d been a reaper.
She left her room and made her way to Valeriya’s study. No light shone beneath the closed door, but Layla knew her mentor liked to work in the dark. She pushed open the door and was immediately hit with the strong scent of ancient tomes. Somehow, Valeriya kept the pages of hundreds of books intact in the centuries that she had been living. No one was allowed into her study, but Valeriya had made an exception for Layla when she was first turned, and since the boundary had been breached, Layla continued to cross it. She still wasn’t sure what made Valeriya take her in that night. She’d been thirteen years old and terrified—not the youngest reaper to join Valeriya’s clan, but Layla supposed she must have looked extra pathetic when she’d wandered in that night, with nothing but despair and fear to her name. Valeriya had noticed her tears; she’d shut her drawer full of human hearts and pulled Layla into her arms to comfort her.
A light flashed in the dark now, the striking of a match bringing Layla back to the present.
Valeriya sat at her desk. The candlelight illuminated her beautiful features, the shadows sharpening her cheekbones and making her eyes blacker than the night itself.
