Page 9 of Our Vicious Descent
A few clan mates tried to eavesdrop from the stairs above, but they stopped abruptly when they saw Julius. He shot them a fiery glare, and they scrambled off, disappearing back into the dark hallway.
Karine continued. The diamonds around her wrists glinted as she lifted her cigarette to her mouth again. “And it would be a shame to pick the weaker side. We are mighty beings, stronger than any human. There is no reason for us to be on the bottom. You might be too meek for this job.”
Layla’s lip curled. “You do it then. You’ve been around for longenough by now. It’s been months since you arrived, yet all you’ve done is criticize my every move.”
Julius laughed roughly. He leaned against the mantel across the room. No fire sat in the fireplace, but the old wood creaked beneath his weight, sending ash from the soot-caked stones within onto the charred log pieces below.
“Oh no. I had enough responsibilities in France. I do not need to position myself into exhaustion from taking on too much again.” Karine waved Layla off. Her French accent rode her words so swiftly, Layla half expected her to switch into her native language.
“Is that why you introduced more blood houses to New York? It’s just enough of a job to make a profit without taking too much from you? I’m sure you’ve noticed how they’re actively ruining the neighborhood, yet you do not seem to care,” Layla said.
Karine pursed her lips. “Blood houses have been around for ages, Layla. I’ve only encouraged their upkeep here. I am bringing wealth to the neighborhood. Harlem seems to like the taste of blood and poison. It runs through the veins of this place. The whole country, really. Sena knew that better than anyone, and that is why she offered me a fresh start here. A chance to rebuild what has been broken. I did not realize that start would involve her death. Perhaps I should have paid better attention to her letters. Let that be a lesson to you: Pay close attention when someone tells you who they are. And even closer attention when someone tells you who you are. If you do not wish to run this clan, then don’t. But do not make things worse for reapers because of your own personal weaknesses.” Karine reachedinto her pocket and pulled out a handful of the glass vials that contained Layla’s venom. The clear substance had grown murky with time, its cloudiness holding bubbles and a foul smell.
Layla’s eyes went wide while Julius lifted a brow. “Where did you—”
“I’ve seen every reaper’s attempt to control their affliction over time. I’ve lived with reaperhood for centuries now. You cannot stop monstrosity. It’s what we are. But it’s what makes us powerful. The moment you understand that, you might actually do some good for this clan,” Karine said.
A breath shuddered out of Layla. She watched the bubbles in her venom pop, hearing the screams of the woman who’d rotted before her eyes outside the blood house. “My inherent ability to instill fear in others does not make me powerful. I am a monster and nothing else.”
They wanted her violence and her carnage—they wanted her to be like Valeriya. Her presence alone had been enough to keep most of their enemies away. Chills covered Layla’s arms at the thought of having to take on Valeriya’s actions, from keeping human hearts as warnings to delivering the heads of enemies to their territories. Layla wasn’t sure she could handle so much extra bloodshed. Not while she was barely keeping herself fed.
Julius snorted. “That would be an understatement. Layla is too lost in her own head to keep the lair afloat, and rogues are constantly threatening our power. They’re poaching our clan mates by encouraging them to join their plan to eradicate the rest of the Saints. Andwho knows; we might be next on their list if we don’t get our act together. With the Saint empire dissolving, everyone is jumping at the chance to claim something greater than what they have. We’re sitting ducks here.”
Karine cleared her throat. “Gangsters, reapers—whether rogue or straight—we all have something in common. In a place that values humanity, we are minorities. Together, we would be much stronger, but I know that is not possible. In times like this, we should be selfish and prioritize protecting our own. At least until we have a handle on what’s going on. The only beings we can fully trust right now are Harlem reapers. And judging by the state of affairs, you need to ensure no one in this lair is attacking humans.”
Julius glanced out the window, his focus waning. “I can absolutely make sure of that.” He left the room without another word.
Layla was glad for it. Being around him worked her up almost as much as her state of near starvation did. She faced Karine, sighing. “I regret letting in certain rogues after Val—Sena’s death.” Her late clan leader’s true name still felt foreign on her tongue. Layla had known her as Valeriya, while Karine had known her by her given name, Sena.
Karine sat back against the couch, drawing Layla’s attention back to the dramatic layers of clothes that covered her thoroughly. All to protect against something as natural as the sun. “You did what you needed to do to grow your clan again. There’s no need for this animosity,” Karine drawled, taking another long drag of smoke. “You need to give them a name. Put a face to Sena’s murderer and allow them to have some catharsis. Make a decision before they make onefor you and force the truth out.”
Layla’s lips parted. It was easy to gravitate toward Karine. She had shown up hours after Layla’s mentor died with a connection to her and her ancient history. In a world where most had turned their backs on Layla, she had no one else to look to besides Karine. “My clan would never turn on me.”
Shrugging, Karine sighed and knocked the ash from the end of her cigarette. “Reapers live to feed, and your clan is ravenous. I have been alive for a long, long time. I’ve learned to recognize patterns in the living and the damned. Reapers love to hold grudges. For many, they continue beyond the grave.”
“You know so much about running a lair for someone who says reaper communities are not nearly as thriving in France,” Layla said.
Karine didn’t wait a moment to answer. “Why are you so afraid?” She pointed her cigarette at Layla, and a small ember fell onto the couch between them. It burned for a less than a second before fading into a lump of meaningless ash.
The question should not have startled Layla as much as it did. She bit her lip, turning away. Every night her dreams consisted of destruction wrought by her own hands, bringing her back to the time she had come close to losing the one sweet thing she had left in this life. “I cannot help anyone or anything.” Though fisted, her hands shook. The tremors traveled up her arms and carried through her body until she became one vibrating husk of a creature.
“That survival instinct of yours is not something to suppress, Layla. In this world, it’s the only thing we are guaranteed,” Karinesaid slowly.
Layla frowned. “What about you? You came for our help, and though we have not delivered, you are still here. Why?”
Karine studied Layla’s sudden break in patience. Her red lips curled up at the ends and she broke into a knowing smile. “Many countries in Europe enjoy pretending we do not exist. They keep us in the darkness and point an accusing, mocking finger at the U.S. despite many of them dealing with much worse reaper policies. Frankly, I am tired of the hypocrisy. The first time I visited here, years ago, I saw how vicious the Saints could be even with an agreement established with Sena. It disturbed me. But now I wish to change things. It’s too bad Sena will not be around to see it.”
Layla bristled, but Karine waved her off and continued. “I have taken care of her body and shipped her off to the biggest reaper research lab in Europe. Switzerland, specifically. I promised you I would return the favor of welcoming me into your lives. Her death will not be for nothing.”
The older reaper stood and placed her hat back on her head. With winter quickly approaching, the sun set much earlier, but even the faintest rays made her turn into something ghastly, a being that belonged in the shadows. Darkness covered most of her face now, but Layla could still see the red of her lips when she stood and followed her out of the room.
A whiff of her scent met Layla’s nose, and she paused, her mind struggling to place its familiar notes. “What is that?”
Karine drew a hand along her jaw, stretching her face up so herthroat was more visible and the scent more discernible. Still, Layla couldn’t figure it out. “Do you like it? My new fragrance. It’s youthful, isn’t it?” She gave Layla one last strange smile, then left, leaving behind the haunting scent of stolen innocence.
6
For the first time in weeks, Elise put her map away and attempted to release herself from the prison of her thoughts. Living had become easier once she knew her sister was safe and in good hands. Knowing there were fewer responsibilities tethering her to the misery that had become her life after being pent up in this apartment for so long, Elise could finally breathe.
