Page 6 of This Ravenous Fate
Layla’s nose wrinkled at the scent of old rotten blood. She clenched her teeth, fangs almost piercing her gums when Mei turned to face her. Her lips were dark red, eyes bloodshot. Clumps of spoiled blood clung to her chin. Layla sighed. “What did we learn from last night, Mei?” she muttered.
Mei dragged a hand across her mouth and stood, spitting. “Kill a whole gang to get a proper feast.”
A sharp laugh left Layla, but she didn’t smile. “Valeriya won’t be happy.”
“Valeriya is never happy,” Mei muttered. “We should’ve brought her a gangster’s heart. Maybe that would keep her quiet.”
“You ruined them all.” Layla glared. Their clan leader was prickly on a good day. But she was bound to show that icy ire they knew all too well when she found out about Mei’s bloodlust-driven rampage from last night. They were lucky she had not been home when they arrived last night.
Layla tossed a towel at Mei, then stalked away. “You owe me new sheets.” Her bed was a disaster. Blood soaked the side Mei hadslept on, and there were tears in the bedding that Layla had only just noticed. Upon closer inspection, she realized there were rips down to the mattress. “You also owe me a new mattress,” Layla grumbled.
Mei emerged from the bathroom, rolling her eyes. “If I hunt for you for a week, will you forget it?”
Layla rolled her eyes. “That is a bold offer from someone who just killed an entire gang and would benefit from laying low for at least a month.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Harlem is better off without the Diamond Dealers running around. Less people to make us their enemies. And now we have their territory,” Mei said, pushing her shoulder-length black hair behind her ears. “My instincts saved us an extra payment to the Cotton Club this month.”
Layla lifted a brow. “As long as you understand that murder will not fix everything, I can let this go.”
Mei scoffed. “You’re one to talk.”
***
Like most nightclubs, The Cotton Club looked rather lifeless in the daytime. The floors gleamed with fresh polish, the air heavy with its scent when Layla and Mei walked in before a long-limbed young blond man stopped them in the foyer.
“You know better than to walk in here, Quinn.”
Layla knew this gangster: Jamie Kelly, leader of one of Harlem’s biggest gangs, the Crooks. Because most people hated them, reapersand gangsters had more allies in each other than with anyone else. Lawless and thirsty for violence, they shared similar territories. But boundaries persisted. Segregation prevented shifting loyalties between reapers and humans and racial mixing.
Jamie blocked the doorway to the club, arms crossed while he stared Layla down. “Your clan still owes dues from last month.”
Mei glared at him. “We’ve brought ourfinalpayment. We won’t be needing your territory to hunt on anymore.”
Jamie glanced sideways at Mei. “Do you know something about the Dealers getting killed?”
Layla nudged her elbow into Mei’s gut to keep her from saying more. The girl had been a reaper for nearly a decade longer, but when it came to instincts and maturity, Mei might as well have been a baby reaper. At times, Layla felt more like her guardian than her friend.
“Look, we heard about the Dealers,” Layla said, passing him a wad of bills. “So until some other gang moves in, that territory is free for us.”
“Fine,” Jamie muttered. “Is that all?”
Layla cocked a brow at Jamie. “Tell Giana to come home. Valeriya wants a word with her.”
“Anything else, Your Majesty?” The slightest hint of amusement clung to Jamie’s words and for a moment, he actually looked his age. Layla couldn’t imagine how he’d become such a cold gangster at only twenty. He was only two years older than her, but he had already racked up a reputation and body count that had most people scared to approach him. Layla didn’t fear him—as a reaper, she didn’t fearmuch, since she was able to rip out the throat of anyone as easily as one might peel an orange. But the law was different for gangsters than it was for reapers. Gangsters worked either outside it, or through it, bribing authorities and threading their business ties to corrupt and powerful judges. They flirted with the law and liked the bite of its warning. To appear in the newspaper was an accomplishment for a gangster, as it only made them more notorious and widely revered. But for reapers, any attention was closer to a death sentence. With hunters constantly out for them, laying low was a part of their existence.
Growing up, Layla had been taught to fear reapers and curse them with the same fury a Christian might condemn the devil with. Never did she anticipate becoming one.
“Tell Giana yourself.” Jamie knocked on the backstage door, calling for her friend. When Giana emerged, she looked skinnier than ever, with a dazed look on her face. Her big brown eyes were ringed with black eyeliner and silver eye shadow that matched her fringe dress. With one look at the dark bags under her eyes and the blue veins that bulged on her temples, Layla could tell Giana was overdue for a feeding.
“You need to come home at some point, Giana.” Layla noticed the chalky tone of Giana’s usually radiant brown skin. “And go hunt.”
Giana’s lip curled. “Since when did you start commanding me?”
“I’m the only one who sticks around enough to listen to Valeriya and relay her messages. Maybe if you returned to the lair more often, you would have a better standing with the clan,” Layla said coldly.
“Well, I’m not interested in letting thisconditionhold me back from my dreams. I refuse to let my life be dictated by such bullshit. At least some of us should still lead a normal life, right? Otherwise our existence is in vain,” Giana muttered.
The words stirred a deep fury in Layla. Every good part of her life had been stolen from her by her reaperhood—an affliction dealt to her by the hands of someone she had once trusted. For years she had trained her anger to cool, but it was impossible to put aside an event that had changed her life forever. She still wanted to make the Saints pay for what they had done to her.
