Page 11 of Our Vicious Descent
7
Despite having only a scarf to cover her head and a thin coat to protect her from the frigid air, Elise felt no cold as she walked through Harlem. Months ago, she might have allowed fear to chase her through the streets, but now rage drove her forward, unrelenting and vicious even as she slipped through the gates to the Saint estate.
Returning to her old home felt like crossing into a graveyard. She had expected it to be empty with everyone gathering at the private Saint gardens a few blocks away, but the estate appeared to be abandoned. Elise stepped through the front door and shuddered. Where there used to be family portraits and collected paintings beside ornate golden wall sconces, there was only dust and gloom lurking in every corner between the now-bare walls. With the gathering cobwebs and abandoned furniture, no part of the place felt remotely like her home. Leaving it had been an impulsive decision, and over time she’d wondered whether it had been the right one.There was no telling what her father or Sterling might have done had she chosen to stay and work with them to help rebuild. Every night when she remembered her sister’s disappearance and what had become of the empire, Elise had to remind herself that it was better than what could have been. She could still feel the cold of the raindrops as they slithered down across her skin the night she’d left for good, still feel the aching pain of her racing heart, which wouldn’t calm down even when Layla assured her that Tobias would have no idea to search for her at Jamie’s apartment.
It wasn’t the idea of being hunted that had terrified her that night. Elise had been hunted since Layla’s violent descent into reaperhood, and she had survived that. One could argue that she had been hunted ever since she was born into a world that refused otherness in its tapestry of white excellence. But Elise could only think about the fact that despite all her efforts to protect Josi and keep her father happy, she had failed. And now, where Layla had once been to assure her, there was an empty space.
Elise turned away from the massive family portrait still hanging over the grand staircase and continued on through the rest of the house. Wrinkled envelopes and pamphlets from the mailbox outside covered the floor, reminding her that some people expected things of her father and assumed he still resided there. Inspecting the letters took only a few minutes. Most of them were from business partners and past buyers who demanded more Saint steel or reimbursements for delayed shipments. Elise was sure her parents were living elsewhere now; she’d overhead Jamie’s associates talking about roguereapers trespassing into the Saint estate.
As she stepped into the sitting room, her heart fluttered at the sight of the grand piano. It sat in a patch of dusty sunlight, its surface still glossy despite its abandoned state. Her body flushed with a warm familiarity. After months away from the instrument, returning felt like reuniting with a lost love—a bittersweet moment among devastation. Sheet music littered the floor around the piano, pages clinging to the ruined patterns in the ornate rug. Elise noticed faint bloodstains spotting the fabric. She wondered if the reapers who’d come here claimed this place as their own now that her family had moved out. Elise might as well have entered a rogue’s lair.
She could not find it in herself to care. Elise took a seat on the piano bench, trailing her fingers over the edge of the fallboard. Dust coated the sleek curves, but through it all, she could still see the faint smudge of fingerprints against the gloss. Elise lifted the fallboard and startled at the blood splattered along the keys. Her breath left her in sharp huffs, the metallic scent mingling with her perfume. For this beauty to be drenched in the carnage of others—
Elise slammed the fallboard down.
Groaning, Elise stood up and made her way to her father’s study. Just as it did the rest of the house, darkness and dust covered most surfaces inside. She brushed the crumpled-up papers from his desk and searched for any more important documents that might have indicated contact with Dr. Gray.
In the end all she found was a letter mentioning the new Saint address—still in Harlem, on a street she knew was filled with modestbrownstones. Elise muttered the address beneath her breath as she jotted it down on a scrap of paper. A stack of barely used stationery caught her eye just as she prepared to leave. If mail was still coming to this address, then surely the mail collectors would also take mail to send.
Elise grabbed a sheet and began writing.
Dear Dr. Gray,
I do hope you’re well, as I’ve been trying to reach you for ages now and the lack of response is filling me with concern.
Harlem is in trouble. Everything and everyone I have ever loved and cared about are in trouble. I am sure you know this already, as I remember you always followed the news when I was younger. You used to bring up topics about the state of the world whenever our families shared a meal and I remember thinking it was boring—because what small child truly cares about anything beyond what they are going to have for dessert? But now I understand. I’ve been forced into a position of caring too much and I desperately need your help. Even when I was little, I understood your desire to help the world. Whether it was through medicine or science, you had plans and hopes. You passed that desire on to Thalia, and if her untimely passing told me anything beyond just how unfair it was, it’s that the world needs people like you.
I no longer consider myself part of the Saint empire and Ionly hope to reverse their contributions to this neighborhood’s demise.
So, please, I’m begging you, return to Harlem. Or send me a letter and tell me of your whereabouts. We need you.
Best,
Elise Saint
She lowered her pen and sealed the letter before she could change her mind. This letter was more honest and forward than the others she’d written to Dr. Gray. If it went ignored, that would be a clear response.
A faint noise sounded in a distant part of the house. Elise’s hand clenched around the letter in her pocket, and she stilled, listening for more movements. Sure enough, footsteps neared the door. She reached for Jamie’s gun, lifting it in preparation to aim, and pressed herself against the wall by the door. Standing on Saint ground now, devastated as it was, would offer her no protection. Elise desperately hoped the past two months of gun training with Jamie would amount to something if she came face-to-face with a rogue.
“Looking for trouble?”
The unrecognizable voice sent Elise stumbling back. She twisted around, halfway to squeezing the trigger as she pointed it in the face of a young Black man. “Who the hell are you?”
The man offered her a cruel smile. “Should I say I am a friend of your father’s or a friend of Layla Quinn’s? Which one would makeyou less hostile?”
Elise’s gun arm shook, but she kept her finger steady on the trigger even as the man walked forward. The closer he got, the more nonhuman features Elise detected. His eyes held a distinct reaper shine, making the brown more brilliant than any human’s could ever be. He moved with a grace only immortals possessed, with years of practiced stealth and certainty. “Nothing. You should say nothing. I do not know you, and you should not be here.”
“You should not be alone, Ms. Saint,” he murmured.
One more step back and she was back against the wall. Elise swallowed a gasp of surprise. “This is my house.”
The reaper tilted his head to the side, “Wasyour house. You no longer live here. You also no longer have a reaper’s protection. That partnership with Layla did not work out. Why is that?”
Elise willed herself not to react to his words, but her blood vessels constricted and her heart raced. Every part of her felt alight while this reaper dragged his gaze over her frame, watching and waiting for her next move. “I could kill you.”
“You could, but if you were going to, you would have pulled the trigger already.” The reaper pressed a hand to his jaw, his expression softening while he studied her. “You smell different. Human, but not quite right. I, personally, would love to kill you. I think my clan would love to see you dead. Layla, on the other hand, would hate it. She still subscribes to old Harlem reaper rules that your family is off-limits. Saints were untouchable once. But times are changing. I think we need just one small thing to tip the scales and move powerin the right direction for once.” He lifted a finger and smiled. “This might be that thing.”
Elise’s brows furrowed. She lowered the gun as he walked off. “What are you talking about?”
