Dead Girl Walking by Ruth Silver Page B

to a different exit. She didn't want to be seen on the ballroom floor.
    “Everyone dies, Leila.”
    Leila rolled her eyes. Now wasn't the time for a lesson on the human life cycle. She knew everyone died at some point, but Mara was a child. She deserved to grow up, fall in love, get married, and have children. Then, when she grew old and her time came, Leila wouldn't fight it anymore. “This way.” She escorted Violetta through the back hall parallel to the ballroom.
    “How are we going to find Mara if we're out here?”
    “Give it time.” Leila knew her sister. There was only so much mingling with guests that the young girl could handle.
    Leila and Violetta didn't have to wait long. Mara opened the door, peeking her head out to make sure the hall was clear. “You again?” Mara nodded to Leila. “I didn't catch your name earlier.”
    “Leila.” She hoped Mara wasn't going to turn her into the guards for trespassing. Thankfully, she’d never told her younger sister the name she’d used when sneaking out to meet Larkin.
    “Easy enough to remember, and you are?” Mara turned toward the taller girl.
    She hesitated before sticking out her hand. “Violetta Mercier.”
    Mara turned to Leila and grinned. “You want to get out of here?”
    Leila shot Violetta a look. Was this a good idea? They were supposed to meet the boys in less than two hours. How were they going to do that if they snuck out of the palace? Then again, maybe Mara would miss her appointment.
     
    Jasper drove up to the front of the refuge and halted the horses. “We’re here.” He glanced back at Wynter.
    “Yeah.” Wynter didn’t feel ready. The longer he waited, the more anxious he felt.
    “The longer you wait, the greater chance Juliana will be asleep.” Jasper didn’t budge. “Oh, if Juliana says no, you can always ask another dark angel.”
    “There isn’t time.” Wynter knew Juliana was the most likely to help, and at the same time the least likely to agree to get involved in something Wynter wanted. Besides, Juliana was the dark angel of the refuge. She was the equivalent of Edon to reapers, the head dark angel, if such a title existed. If Juliana refused him, all the dark angels at the refuge would do the same.
    He opened the carriage door and climbed out. The more time he wasted, the less chance he had of saving Mara Dacre. Wynter stepped onto the grass and walked up to the refuge. It was a two-story old white house with thirteen steps to reach the porch. Did all entities involving death live in creepy places?
    Wynter took the first stair, pausing as it creaked beneath his feet. He glanced down at the worn white wood, hoping it would hold his weight. He dashed up the stairs and knocked briskly on the front door.
    Wynter could hear movements and voices from inside. “Who’s there?” a female voice asked.
    Wynter squinted, trying to see in the dark. The door was shut, and he didn’t see anyone from the first floor windows. He took a step toward the left, noticing the window ajar and saw the interrogator. “I need to speak with Juliana. Tell her Wynter is here.”
    “She doesn’t like you very much.” The female dark angel snickered. “But, I’ll relay the message.”
    “Thank you.” Wynter waited by the front door, hoping Juliana would at the very least hear his request. He did come out of his way for her help.
     
    “Where are we going?” Leila followed Mara through the hall, around the ballroom and toward the main exit. Were they just going to walk out of the party?
    “Outside. Where's your boyfriend?” Mara asked.
    “Our boyfriends had an errand to run. They'll be back in a few hours.” It wasn't a complete lie.
    “That's a shame. I was hoping to borrow your carriage. We'll just have to steal one.” Mara didn't flinch as she walked outside with Violetta and Leila trailing behind her.
    “Princess Mara, what are you doing outside?” a guard asked.
    “Escorting my friends to their carriage. Do you have a