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 night was a spectacle, but this is 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 placed a 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.
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 cleared his 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 only remember 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 his neck, 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 of bed 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.
“Some Saint men stopped by,” she said. “There was a reaper attack a few days ago in the Heights and they think we had something to do with it. Unsurprisingly, they had nothing to say about the Diamond Dealers.”
“No one cares about gangsters,” Layla muttered.
Valeriya looked at Layla, and her perfume, the haunting scent of crushed roses, filled the room. “I’m sure you are to thank for keeping that bloodbath mostly quiet.”
Layla accepted the gratitude with a careful nod. “Did the Saints make any threats?” Giana had never returned to the lair, and Layla tried not to think about her going into a starved, murderous rampage just like Mei had.
“A threat, a promise…” Valeriya held up a letter, sighing. “They will remove this hotel from our possession if the attacks continue. This agreement is hardly a year old, Layla. We cannot afford to ruin it so soon. If we lose this lair, I’m finished. No more managing human-reaper affairs. I’ve had it with this hell.”
Layla flinched. “But the Diamond Dealer territory is open now—”
“Not the point,” Valeriya snapped. “There are plenty of animals to feed on, even in the city. No hunting humans as long as we are in agreement with the Saints. We are not rogue reapers.”
Layla swallowed. “About that… I have news.”
“Speak.” Valeria reached for the crystal glass at her side and took a sip. Blood coated her lips as she lowered it.
Layla pressed her palms against the desk so her hands wouldn’t shake. “Elise Saint is back. The Saints are having a ten-year anniversary celebration, and there is no way she would miss that,” Layla said.
Valeriya lifted a brow. The darkness made it hard to read her face, but the small quirk of her lips told Layla she was rather impressed with the news. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” Layla slid the Saint invitation from Jamie onto the desk between them.
Layla still didn’t know for sure, but Elise was eighteen now, and she would have graduated from her fancy Paris school. And there was no way she would stay away from her younger sister for this long. If Elise wasn’t back in New York by now, then she might as well be dead.
“Do you still want to lie low?” Layla grumbled. “The Saints have been running this city for the past ten years and whatever they are planning now can only make things worse for us. You hate living under their rule just as much as I hate Elise.”
Valeriya released a sharp breath. “I know you want to hurt Elise—”
“I want her dead. For what she did, she deserves death,” Layla seethed. Before becoming a reaper, such words never would have left her mouth. But after a night that left ghosts terrorizing her dreams, a winter full of blood, and a cracked heart, Layla was no longer the forgiving young girl the Saints had known her to be. And she was tired of letting them run the city while everyone suffered at their hands.
“I never should have told you it was the Saints who caused your ruination,” Valeriya said. “You’re absolutely vexed by them now.” Layla’s eyes rolled and Valeriya sighed. “Yes, we need to destabilize the Saints. But, Layla, there is no room for mistakes here. We do not need a repeat of last time.”
Layla felt the years of built-up fury finally settling in, ready to be released. She flashed her mentor a bitter smile. “This time I won’t fail.”