Page 15 of This Ravenous Fate
Jamie crossed his arms over his chest. The subtle twitch of his lips told Layla there was some trick coming. She had known Jamiesince she had first been turned; he was just a fifteen-year-old, getting caught up in crime before he had truly experienced life. They had that in common. Innocence stolen from them at an early age, both of them forced to push themselves to desperate extremes just to survive. Jamie’s parents were as good as ghosts. Shell shock had kept his father from holding a job after the war, and while his mother stayed home to care for her husband, there was never enough food in the cupboard and the lights were shut off more than they were on. Jamie paid the bills for some time, then became fully invested as a gangster, moved out, and never looked back.
Years later, Jamie Kelly was hardly a friend, but useful to Layla.
“You’re funny, kid,” Jamie muttered. “I know you don’t have money.”
“Wow.”
Jamie smirked. “Does Mother Reaper pay you?”
Layla fell silent. Valeriya offered her a home, and that was enough.
“That’s what I thought.” Jamie nodded to the body, sighing. “I can get my guys to move him. In exchange, I need you to pick something up for me. I’m getting a delivery at the port tomorrow evening.”
“What is it?” Layla asked.
“You don’t need to know. Just tell them you’re there for Kelly. Actually…” Jamie straightened his jacket lapels, his jaw tightening as he grinned at her. “Tell them you’re there for Vex.”
Layla furrowed her brows. “Excuse you?”
“It’s my alias. Police are getting too uptight around here and they’restarting to refuse bribes. Not everyone needs to know Jamie Kelly. But Vex… That’s more intimidating.” Jamie gave her a proud smile.
Unable to hold back anymore, Layla burst out laughing. Jamie frowned at her. “Vex? That sounds like the name of a pretty performer. I bet there’s a dancer at the Cotton Club who calls herself Vex. Between this and your gang being called ‘the Crooks,’ you’re not very creative.”
Jamie grimaced. “You know, for a little girl, you are so vicious sometimes.”
“I’m not a little girl. I’m eighteen,” Layla snapped. “If you want me to pick up your package and ask forVex, I will, but I refuse to call you that ridiculous name elsewhere.” She started to walk away, still fighting a small smile at the absurd name.
“Quinn,” Jamie called.
Layla stopped at the end of the alley. “What?”
“Is ‘Vex’ really that bad?”
***
The scent of blood lured Layla more than anything. Sometimes, when she was beyond starved, it was the only thing she could concentrate on; that pulsing, delicious warmth thrumming through the veins of any living being around her. Her senses sharpened whenever blood was spilled, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.
As she neared the Harlem reaper lair, Layla’s spine went stiff. Fresh blood assaulted her nose, and she half expected to see a deadbody in the foyer of the building. It wouldn’t be the first time, especially with so many new reapers seeking solace. She had found herself in a similar situation after attacking Elise. Blood had still dripped from her fingers when she arrived at the front door of the Hotel Clarice as a wounded thirteen-year-old.
Layla looked around now, searching for the source. Tracking sent her to the decrepit row houses a block away from the Harlem lair.
Something felt wrong. Layla followed bloody footprints into an abandoned building with crumbling back steps. Inside, the scent was overpowering. And immediately, she sensed trouble. Blood covered the walls in chaotic sprays, half-eaten organs scattered around the floor—death coated every corner of the room, weaving through each shadow and clouding the air.
She spotted a crouching form in the far corner of the room.
Layla shut the door behind her. The resounding creak jolted the boy to his feet. He hissed, his fangs bared and eyes glowing with malice. Layla knew this look all too well. Every new reaper struggled to control their new urges. This boy was no different. The bright sheen covering his black eyes made them glow almost gold. But deep in his burning desire for violence, Layla saw fear.
Still, he continued trying to size her up. Layla stood just over five feet tall and she was slim, though lithe muscle covered her body after years of practiced hunting. This boy, while younger, towered over her.
Layla lifted her hands, showing deference. “I know you feel like the strongest being in existence right now because you justfed, but your judgment is just as poor as your adrenaline is high,” Layla said. “Unless youwantme to kill you, attacking me is not worth it.”
The boy only continued to glare at her. It might have been more menacing if he did not still look so young with round cheeks and maturity barely starting to shape his features.
Layla took a gentle step forward. “I thought you were a rogue reaper, but you’re ababy,” she said. Scorn twisted his face and Layla laughed roughly. “Don’t worry, you won’t be a baby forever. You will age until your midtwenties, when your brain development stops—”
The young man hissed again, blood-tinged spittle flying from his mouth. “I’m not one of thosethings. Are they not all rogue?”
“Oh boy…” Layla blew hot air between her teeth. First barrier to overcome: denial. “Rogue reapers are what we call the reapers that deliberately disobey every standing reaper and human agreement, ignore the advice of wiser, ancient reapers, and live as dangerously as they want, feeding exclusively on humans. They’re usually young. You…” Layla lowered her voice as the boy’s eyes darkened. “You just turned.”
