Free The Path of Razors by Chris Marie Green Page A

only meant to have them track Violet, to perhaps even scare her into returning by showing that there was no place Violet could ever hide from her pack.
    But as the birds had searched the streets, Della’s fear that Violet would do the girls harm had only expanded instead of abated. And by the time she had sensed the birds coming upon her fellow schoolmate—wherever she had been—Delia’s fear had stretched and birthed into something that resembled the viscous dark of justified hate.
    Violet had to pay for running away from them, had to pay for every time she had made them all feel so small and bullied—
    The ravens had responded to Della’s temper in a black cloud of cawing, diving, tearing fervor, and she had not been able to stop them.
    Stop ... herself.
    The loo door opened, and Mrs. Jones, with her sensible bun, shoes, and skirt, rounded the corner into the main room, snapping shut her mobile.
    She crooked her finger at Della.
    Come here, little girl.
    But a tear of fright kept Della lanced to the ground.
    Do you know what’s in store for you, little girl?
    Della squeezed shut her eyes at the niggle. She dug her fingernails into the carpet, more afraid than she had ever been, even as a human. As a vampire, she had been told she would be improved in many respects, but Della had brought so much emptiness and fear with her into this existence that she hadn’t been able to let go of what had always been so much a part of her.
    It was said that the masters were the same, though—they each had varying powers based on personal strengths brought over from humanity. Why shouldn’t she have carried traits with her, too, even if they were more like weaknesses than abilities?
    The housematron leveled an impatient glare at Della.
    Get up, Della told herself. Stand up, as you did last night. You can do it again.
    Unsteadily, she did rise, Violet’s death screams coming back to her as a reminder of why she was in this spot.
    But, oddly, those screams made Della ... stronger.
    Yes.
    Much stronger.
    On legs that didn’t seem so ready to buckle anymore, she walked to Mrs. Jones, her gaze lowered, mostly because she was wary of the elder vampire entering her mind to see that, deep down, she didn’t regret killing Violet at all.
    A moment passed, two moments, as the housematron stared at Della. Then, finally, she said, “I am in a quandary as to how to address this, Miss Bennett.”
    “I’m so very sorry, Mrs. Jones.” Sorry a bully such as Violet had not been taken care of sooner, and that was the truth of it.
    Masquerading this regret as remorse for Violet’s raven attack, Della opened her mind to her superior.
    Just then, the housematron skimmed Della’s thoughts, her head tilting as she narrowed her eyes, then withdrew. Did she believe it?
    The older female looked her charge up and down. “My quandary is rather more complicated than your apologies, Della.”
    Yes. Yes. “I understand, Mrs. Jones.”
    She hefted out a sigh, gracefully resting her hands on her hips. “Violet ran away when staying inside was extremely necessary. You and I know that she was up to no good, and I realize you only wished to stop her before she brought more trouble upon us.”
    Della quashed the urge to nod.
    Mrs. Jones tapped her fingers against her hips, as if turning a decision over in her mind. Then her fingers stilled. “And this brings us to the bottom of it,” she said. “You stepped over the line, yet you did it out of respect for us. In spite of what happened in the end, you started out by protecting the rest of your group, and I’m sorry Violet never wanted to do that, although we had such hope for her. Loyalty to the unit is valuable to us. Betrayal of the group is not.”
    Her statements were like a swirl of letters, separated until they coalesced into actual words for Della as she slowly raised her gaze to find Mrs. Jones frowning, as if torn.
    But Della knew the reason for that. On the mobile, she had heard Wolfie defending