Page 72 of This Ravenous Fate
“I’m enjoying my conversation with Dr. Harding, Father; piano can wait.” Elise nodded to the doctor. “I know my parents are wonderful. Tell me. What’s your secret?”
“I take the bodies of the reapers your empire kills and my scientists study them,” Dr. Harding replied. “Reaper venom has become like a drug abroad, and people all over the world pay high prices for it. Moreover, I get a new offer every month from someone who would like to collaborate with me to create the next great race of human beings. I’m half inclined to accept them.”
Chills covered Elise’s arms as her insides turned to ice.
“A cure would surely conflict with this business, though,” thedoctor went on. “So I must make the more morally sound decision. It’s quite a divergence from the scientists who first created this mess and left us to deal with the consequences. So, to fix what they left behind, you can understand that sometimes, we must make decisions that are not the most ethical?”
Elise began, “As a practitioner of medicine, you are expected to heal—”
“And heal I do.” Dr. Harding nodded and picked up the knife at his place setting. He ran his thumb over the blade, a cold smile forming on his lips. “You would not last one day in the madness that is this line of work.”
Elise regretted not leaving the table. She felt impossibly uncomfortable now, her body caving in on itself the longer Dr. Harding watched her. It was a relief when someone else finally spoke.
“I’m desperate to discuss this again later, Dr. Harding. But for now, Elise, I would love it if you helped me with the Harlem reapers,” Stephen Wayne said. “You already seem so close to Layla Quinn. If you’ve got her on your side, the rest of the clan is sure to follow. Those bastards who killed Thalia are still out there, but perhaps if we all work together, we can stop them.”
Elise turned and saw the whole table watching her with anticipation. The promise to kill Layla at the end of the investigation still stood. The promise that she would figure out who was responsible for the crime that rocked their community still stood.
The burdens piled on top of her were sure to crush her soon.
Elise sighed and gave Stephen Wayne a brief nod. “I would behonored to help.”
***
“You sound stiff.”
Elise’s fingers slipped on the piano keys at the sound of her father’s voice. She lowered the fallboard and turned to face him as he walked into the music room. Though she hadn’t wanted to practice, Elise had not been able to stop fidgeting once she returned to her room after dinner. Playing basic scales helped clear her head, but when her father walked in, she went rigid once more.
“You never told me what you played for your conservatory audition.” Mr. Saint slid onto the seat beside her. Elise could smell his cologne; she hated having anyone this close to her while she played. Except for one person, at least. And that was different. It was always different when it came to Layla.
“It’s very personal to me,” Elise said quietly.
Her father ran his finger over the glossy piano board. “So personal that you couldn’t tell the person who paid for your lessons and your instruments?” he asked. His tone was mild, but the words conveyed every ounce of displeasure he had with her. Elise swallowed and remained quiet.
“Have you ever played it for me?” he asked.
“No.”
His knuckles rapped against the piano board so hard, Elise flinched.
“My pearl, what is this about?”
She finally looked up. “It’s bad luck to share audition details before the decision is made.”
“That’s understandable.” A wry smile split her father’s lips. For a moment, Elise thought she had convinced him. But he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a mask. It was the mask Elise had worn and lost at the fundraiser. Then he revealed a letter: the one she had written to decline her acceptance at the Paris Conservatory.
Elise’s mouth went dry.
“It is an understandable excuse for a superstitious musician. But you’re not superstitious.” Her father leaned closer to her. “You’re just a liar.”
A tight knot formed in Elise’s chest, pain increasing with each racing heartbeat, and she looked away, trying to focus on her breathing. But her father continued speaking. “Sterling told me about your recent activities. When did you become a liar, Elise? You had me place all my faith in you, and now you’re no better than the demons I trusted you to beat.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she swallowed past the painful lump in her throat. Already, she was too scared to move, to think, to breathe. Elise could only sit there and listen, hoping his searing words would be enough for him.
“I am very disappointed in you. This is why I couldn’t tell you about the fundraiser. You ruin things. You have made almost no progress on this case. You made me look like an imbecile in front of Mr. Wayne and Dr. Harding today. Stephen might say you’re an intelligent, kind, sophisticated young lady, but do you think he believes anyof that? Of course not. It makes me wonder what else you’ve been up to with that Quinn girl behind my back.” Tobias Saint’s voice was steady and calm. Waiting for his explosion was always the worst part of any conflict with him. Elise hated tiptoeing around her words, not knowing what would set him off. He stood and she moved away off the bench, trying to put distance between them.
“Fuck, Elise.” Her father shoved the piano hard. It slammed the wall behind it and the room shook. Next, he kicked the bench, sending it into the wall. Wood splintered, the perfect glossy finish damaged beyond repair. It creaked and groaned like a wounded creature.
Elise whimpered. Tears finally broke past Elise’s defenses. Her lips trembled, and she tried to turn away, but her father gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t you know that I’ve put all of my faith into you continuing my empire’s legacy? Charlotte’s legacy? You might as well have killed her. You owe us something more than piano and your useless tears. Yet here you are, crying when it gets too hard. Your weak self wrongfully takes up Charlotte’s space. Are you a failure, or are you going to be a Saint?”
