Page 8 of Our Vicious Descent
Jamie settled on the couch and ran his hands through his hair. Blond strands twisted around his fingers as he contemplated, his pale eyes roaming over her rigid form. “You know, Saint, I’m not sure I want to be involved in this. I already have to tiptoe around her when she thinks I’m going to bring you up—”
Elise closed her hands so hard, her nails cut into her palms. “That’s exactly the problem! Did you know I told her I loved her and she ran away? Sheran away from me, Jamie. Who does that?”
“Probably someone with commitment issues. I once got shot when I told someone I loved them. It could have been worse.” Jamiepulled his collar back to reveal a silvery scar on the side of his neck. “The bullet grazed me and I healed, but the pain still lingers. You’re lucky Layla didn’t do something worse. She seems very out of touch with her emotions.”
Elise blinked. “Shehasdone worse.”
Jamie let his shirt fall closed and stared down at the map again. “Maybe letting go of Layla is for the best. What good came of you two being together anyway?”
Despair tightened Elise’s throat. She looked over Jamie’s shoulder to the window and watched the snow fall against the brightening morning sky outside. All this cold blanketing the city and Layla preferred to be out there, protecting beings that craved death all because of Elise. Sometimes she regretted her hand in the events that had occurred two months ago. Elise had been so close to Layla’s affections then and managed to squander it in the name of revenge and protection for someone who was no longer the person she remembered.
Josi, Elise told herself, was worth the coldness. She would kill the immortal darkness that was Valeriya a thousand times over if it meant her younger sister was safe.
In the span of a few days, Elise had nearly died for one beloved and killed for another. Yet there was nothing to show for it besides more violence and bloodshed. Perhaps she was not destined for blood. Not like Layla was. And maybe that would be their downfall.
Elise flinched.Death, death, death. Each thought of it made her heart race until her eyes pulsed with the hot, hammering pressureof her blood. She pressed her fingertips to her lips and kneeled by the map, silently begging for a solution to her endless ruminations. Until she saw her sister, fully human and well, Elise would never stop. “I should be there for Josi,” she whispered.Alone in that house with our father—Josi will suffer. And it will be all my fault if I do not do something—
“You’re going to make yourself sick, Elise,” Jamie muttered as he retreated to the kitchen.
Embarrassed heat bloomed in her cheeks. Elise rubbed a shaky hand over her hair, the torn and scabbing flesh tormenting her fingers catching on her wild curls. She knew better than anyone else that she was already sick.
***
The Clarice welcomed Layla as it usually did, with ice and promises of darkness. Bone fragments, still stained with blood, littered the floor before the double entry doors. A quick assessment told Layla they were animal bones, but their very presence still made her eye twitch. It was a sign as clear as any; their hunt had resumed, but with spoils that might get worse as time passed without change. Layla had always known her clan mates to be decent and orderly. It was unlike Harlem reapers to leave a mess behind. If she didn’t know any better, she would assume they were learning to be worse from rogue reapers.
Shadows cloaked the interior of the hotel lobby despite the manylit candelabra. Some reapers tucked themselves away in the dark as she walked in, while others stood and approached her right away. Celie caught Layla’s eye.
“You’re back,” she said it almost cheerfully, but the moment the words left her mouth, Celie looked around with wide eyes, as if searching for a lingering threat.
The place hummed with an unusual energy the longer Layla stood in the lobby. “I’ve only been gone for a day,” Layla said. “And I see you’ve all made a mess.” Her voice grew louder as she looked about the foyer. Several reapers bristled at her tone.
Celie flinched, facing her again. She fidgeted with the curls that escaped the ends of her two braids. “Some of us are gone. I’m not sure where they went. Laure thinks they just…went to find another clan or join the rogues, but I think something worse happened—”
“You’re only fourteen, Celie. Leave the catastrophic thinking to me,” Layla muttered.
The younger reaper visibly relaxed. She let out a soft sigh and nodded. “I’m just nervous. I guess I’m still not used to having a proper roof over my head and clan mates to watch my back.”
Her words pierced Layla’s heart. Having been a reaper for the better part of a year now, Celie had initially gone the hard route of lawlessness and joined rogues. She reminded Layla of her younger self, albeit more wounded and bruised, with a resulting hardness in her eyes that never seemed to go away, no matter how gentle Layla was with her.
A tall figure stepped down from the landing above, and Laylaresisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You let them hunt,” she said flatly.
Julius nodded. “They’re hungry. We all are. We must feed. Unless you want everyone to lose control and kill half of Harlem, or die trying?” He leaned against the stairway, his golden eyes glimmering with the faint flicker of candlelight around them.
Layla glared. “There’s something spreading. You can’t know what’s infected and what will poison you. I’ve seen what this stuff does to reapers and humans—”
“So what? We sit here and starve for an eternity? I thought you were smarter than that, Layla. Or has self-imposed starvation made you clueless?” Julius snapped. “We’re losing reapers every day because of your stupid rules.”
“She’s trying to protect us, Julius!” Laure called from the upstairs balcony. She frowned down at the older reaper. Despite her being several feet above him, when he swung his piercing gaze up to her, Laure shrank, her confidence waning.
“You defend a traitor, little girl.”
Celie’s lips parted in shock. “Hey!”
But Julius ignored her, turning his attention back to Layla. “Should I tell them what you do at night? What you wrestle with? Or rather, who? How you are not really hunting Valeriya’s killer, but rather spending time in the darkness, feeding on human blood while you deprive them of a proper meal? How you lust after a Saint while they continue to hunt and kill us? Your loyalty is dead. Soon your clan will be too if you do not pick a side.”
The room seemed to go still with his words. Even Celie and Laurelooked astounded, and much of the warmth they’d once regarded Layla with vanished from their eyes. Layla could only take in deep breaths to steady her racing heart and impulse to grab Julius by his throat so he could no longer speak back to her. She was glad when another presence entered the room, halting the rising tension before it could get too hot.
In a flurry of expensive fur and perfume, the ancient reaper took a seat on the other end of the couch opposite from Layla. Her black dress dragged along the floor as she crossed her legs, her fur shrug snaking down her arm. The entrance had been so grand, Layla almost did not notice the mud caking her boots and the hem of her skirt. For a moment Karine didn’t speak; she just pulled a cigarette from her diamond-studded purse and lit it. After a long drag, during which she let smoke spill from between her lips and envelop her face in a wispy cloud, Karine finally turned to Layla. “He’s not wrong. You must choose.”
