Page 4 of This Ravenous Fate
Her father snapped his focus to her. “What did you say?” he demanded.
“The dancers onstage… I saw the way they looked at Josi, and they had fangs—”
Sterling stiffened beside her. Even Josi lowered her gaze.
“There were no reapers,” her father said.
“But—”
“Surely, Elise, you do not believe I would put my family in danger, do you?” her father asked.
Elise shook her head. “No.” She noticed her mother’s hand resting calmly on her father’s shoulder.
“Then I assure you, there were no reapers in there.” His tone softened and he leaned forward, taking her hands into his own. “It’s possible that because of what you went through, you are seeing these things. You cannot trust these anxious thoughts. They will show you danger even when it does not exist.”
Elise’s heart beat so hard, her chest ached. She took a few deep breaths, forcing that familiar anxiety down, and nodded.
The car lurched forward into the night, darkness pressing around them from all sides.
2
Layla loved when the world went dark and the city became hers to command. Shadows clung to every corner, creating perfect pockets of darkness to lurk in. Normally, Layla would stay close to the ground, weaving in and out of the shadows, but tonight she stood above the gloom.
She kneeled on the edge of the roof. The toe of her boot scraped the low wall that stood between her and a massive drop as she watched the pedestrians scattered around the streets below, their shouts and whistles ringing up through the air. Even this high up, Layla felt like one of the masses.
The roof shook beneath her feet with the rumblings of a party just below. Lights poured out of the skylight and they lit up the low-hanging clouds.
“Good lord,” Mei said behind her. “One of these days, they’re going to collapse the whole building.”
“It’s not a party if there’s no blood,” Layla muttered. She backed away from the edge of the roof and turned to look at her clanmate. Mei, like Layla, was dressed to blend into the night, black clothes clinging to her slim frame. The wind blew a few strands of Mei’s dark hair into her face; as she swiped them away, Layla could see her hand shaking slightly.
Layla frowned. “You should really go back to the lair—”
“No, we need to get this over with. And I find it insulting that you think I cannot control my hunger,” Mei said sharply. The shadows beneath her eyes stretched so deeply, they looked almost purple. What used to be delicate veins barely visible beneath her skin now bulged against her neck and hands, black and bitter with the need to feed. Mei bit her lower lip, and her fangs pierced it, drawing blood.
Layla narrowed her eyes. “You know Valeriya hates when we wait this long to feed—”
“And she hates not settling debts even more,” Mei hissed. She began to say more, but the air filled with a new scent. It was fresh and human, tinged with a bit of raw apprehension. Both girls straightened their stances and listened for steps coming up the fire escape ladder. One by one, six men climbed on to the roof and approached them.
Layla studied the lapels of their black coats for their gang affiliation until she saw the diamond tattoos on their necks just above their collars. They were one of the smaller gangs and tended to use excessive violence to prove a point. In a city rampant with organized crime and most gangs bootlegging liquor, territories crossed often. Today, the Diamond Dealers had a blood dispute with the Harlemreapers. But Layla wasn’t going to let them take anything back from her clan.
The one who was clearly the leader tipped his hat brim lower and spread his hands by his sides. “Where’s our money?”
Layla lifted a brow. “Good evening to you too,” she said.
The gang leader let out a sharp laugh. “No, it’s not a good evening, because if it was, I would have my money. When you hunt my men, you pay up. Blood for blood. That’s how it works.”
Mei glared. “We did not hunt on your territory. If reapers killed your men, they were rogue and not of any clan. Certainly not ours,” she spat.
The gangster moved his coat back and pulled out a silver revolver. The rest of his men stepped forward, brandishing their own weapons. Mei remained quiet by her side, though agitated and trembling.
“I could pay your clan leader a visit. But that didn’t go well last time, did it? She delivered your reaper friend’s head to me as payment for their crimes.”
Layla winced. Sometimes Valeryia turned to violence to settle debts when a reaper had killed someone they shouldn’t have.
“This is your last chance. Pay up, or I shoot,” the man snarled,
The odds of him having Saint steel in his gun were slim. Most gangster’s guns were illegally acquired and not specially made with a metal that could actually kill reapers. The Saints sold their bullets for excessively premium prices if they sold to gangsters at all. But regardless of the type of bullet these men had, getting shot would hurt.
