Page 46 of Death Raiser

The entrance led to a lobby with a cashier to take payments for the cover and a booth of sorts to collect coats. We walked past all of that without stopping and through another bouncer-lined entrance.

We made our way to a private booth with a sign marked reserved and Estelle slid onto the leather seat on one side while I mirrored her actions on the other. Antonia and Pierre stood at the end of the table, awaiting orders, and giving me a powerful sense of déjà vu.

“Does this club frighten you, Lark?” Estelle cocked her head.

“No, of course not.”

Estelle nodded at Pierre, and he disappeared into the throng of people, presumably to get us drinks. Antonia turned her back to us to survey the club.

“Then what does scare you, Lark?” Estelle asked, a mischievous twinkle in her gaze.

“The Lord of the Veil,” I answered immediately. “I’m not sure which of the many cautionary bedtime stories were scarier—those involving Leviathan or the ones with barghests.”

“What’s a barghest?” Estelle’s forehead wrinkled adorably when she frowned.

“I thought you were supposed to be the old and knowledgeable one.”

Estelle scoffed and leaned back in her seat. The leather creaked. The strobe lights danced along her exposed skin. Pierre returned in record time with two martinis and slid them across the table’s surface.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Of course, ma belle.” Pierre winked and turned around to stand guard with Antonia.

“Barghests are nasty necromancer-munching monsters,” I explained.

Estelle jerked back. “Well, that sounds horrific.” She paused. “That’s not what I meant, though, when I asked what scared you.” Estelle sipped at her martini. “This boogeyman from the veil and the barghests, those are fearsome things that would scare anyone. What I want to know is what you truly fear in this life.”

“Geez, Estelle. Getting pretty deep straight away and I haven’t even had one drink.” Did she plan to relay the information to Gregor? Use it against me? As much as I wanted Estelle as a friend, I couldn’t forget where her loyalties lay.

Estelle laughed and took another sip.

I reached out and grabbed my own drink. The cool liquor coated my tongue with a delicious balance of sweet and sour. A crantini, one of my favourites.

“I'm scared of being left,” I finally answered after a few more sips. This sad truth wouldn’t give Gregor any more power over me if the information got back to him. Gregor already knew I’d do anything for my family, and I loved them most in the world.

Estelle placed her glass down. “Being left alone?”

“I guess. I can handle being alone if it’s by choice and temporary. I worry about being left by those I love. I’m worried my mother will succumb to her illness and leave me. I’m worried my brother will get his own place with his boyfriend and they’ll leave me, too. And yes, I know how incredibly selfish that sounds. And how needy.” I sipped more of my martini. “I'm worried they’ll leave, just like my dad left.”

“Ah.” Estelle’s expression softened. “Now who’s getting deep?”

I scrunched up my nose and took another sip. “You asked.”

Estelle nodded. “And it turns out you have some unresolved daddy issues.”

I stiffened. She wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t like my pain being boiled down to that one, over-used expression. My hand drifted to my neck involuntarily, seeking to touch the cold metal of my pendant necklace—the only real thing other than DNA I had left from my father. He and my brother had identical necklaces to mine.

Estelle held up her hand in a silent apology. “Thank you for sharing this with me. There’s no judgement here, Lark. Not from me. I think a lot of people share the same fear.”

“Do you?”

Estelle sighed again and looked away. “I’m practically immortal. While I might’ve feared being left in the past, I have said so many goodbyes over my lifetime that I’m desensitized to the pain of loss. I have had people leave me since I took my first sip of blood. In a way, it’s me who is leaving them behind. Like I’ll leave you. It’s a bittersweet pain, but one I’m accustomed to. One I will gladly continue to bear because the alternative would be much, much worse.”

“Then what do you fear?”

“I fear losing my humanity. I fear when my time finally does come, I’ll have nothing to show for it, nothing to justify the gift of time I was given except an empty shell. I will have left no legacy.”

She took a sip of her martini to punctuate her confession. Silence filled the booth, though the bass of the music continued to thump, and people partied all around us.

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