Page 23 of Our Vicious Descent
The younger reaper shuddered. Her brows knitted together, and she gave Laure a doubtful look. “What if they try to take me back?”
Her friend’s expression softened. “Then I will break you out of here again. We’ll be okay, Celie. Right, Layla?” Laure’s voice went hard on Layla’s name.
Layla couldn’t ignore the accusation in her tone. The pure vitriol that sprang into her eyes bored into her. It went beyond a threat—Laure held a promise of violence in her gaze that Layla knew she would not survive should anything happen to this littler reaper. She nodded her agreement. “Of course.”
They followed the gangster down a set of stairs in the back of the club. The air seemed to thicken with cold tension the farther they descended. As they neared the bottom of the staircase, Layla stopped, turning to her companions. “You two should stay up there. I don’t want you to get hurt in case anything happens.”
Celie’s face, already ashen, paled even further. “Okay.” She hurried back up the stairs without another word.
Laure looked after her, then sighed as she returned her gaze toLayla. “Be careful.”
Layla waited for her to disappear after Celie before she continued down with the gangster. They stepped out into an open basement that would have been better suited being a dungeon. The walls shone with condensation and mold whose toxins stuffed the air until it grew hard to breathe. Layla stepped over decaying rodent bones, following the gangster to a tall cage at the back of the room. The bars making up the enclosure stretched from the floor to the ceiling and were covered in so much rust, Layla could imagine them being built around the same time that the city of New York had been erected.
The only light illuminating the room came from a tiny window at the top of the far wall. As they neared the dim cage, Layla caught sight of several glass vials littering the floor inside. She followed the trail of them to a hole in the wall, where pieces of brick had been blown out and scattered across the floor. Inside, something hidden in the shadows breathed.
Layla pressed closer to the bars, careful not to touch them. The moonlight did not reach inside the enclosure, but even if it did, she would have been unable to see the prisoner’s face. Darkness covered them like a cloak, leaving only their hands visible. Chains trailed out from a hole to iron hooks that kept them planted firmly in the stone wall.
Amid all the mildew and rot, Layla smelled humanity. Mortal flesh and warm blood sat before her; she knew that much. Her breath left her in a startled gasp. “You’re keeping a human down here? Ifthe Saints find out—”
“Then it will not be my problem. I only take orders. I do not manage the production of the product. You will have to take any conversation on the topic up with the owner of this club,” the gangster said. She nodded to the still human beneath the rags. “If you want karma, you have to take it here. It doesn’t leave the premises.”
Layla’s lips parted. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
The gangster shrugged and headed back to the stairs. “Then don’t. You’re free to go whenever you’d like. My men will collect payment at the door regardless of your decisions.” She left, leaving Layla standing alone by the enclosure.
Layla eyed the vials of the drug. Her gaze flicked from the vials to the chains and back to the human in the middle of it all. “Where did you learn how to make this? And who is doing this to you?” she whispered. “Is it reapers? Or humans?” Layla drew closer, the end of her shirt brushing against the bars and her breath stirring the loose flakes of rust on the metal. “Is it the Saints?” She almost didn’t get the words out.
The human moved so fast, darting out of the hole, Layla couldn’t react in time to avoid their grabbing hand. In a flurry of ratty fabric and angry hisses, the human fisted Layla’s shirt and yanked her into the bars. She slammed against the metal and cried out as it burned the skin on her shoulder. The Saint steel hissed around her melting flesh, drawing her blood and cauterizing it over and over again. In her fight to free herself from the surprisingly strong grip of the human, Layla failed to notice them moving closer. Until they sanktheir fangs into her throat.
Upon contact, they finally unlocked their grip on Layla’s shirt. Layla stumbled back, her hand flying to the fresh bite mark in her neck. Already the creature had retreated into the shadows.
Layla stared at the darkness, shock running a tremor through her body. “Who are you—” she started, but the burning in her neck cut her off. Layla doubled over and scratched at the bite, where boils had already begun to form around the twin holes. The discomfort ran bone-deep within seconds of receiving this reaper’s venom. Something felt off. She stumbled, her hand catching her against the wall before she could fall.
A familiar fury rose in Layla, and she snapped her gaze back to the cage. Her vision, narrowed and seeping with a red sheen, locked on the reaper inside. She took one step toward them, stopping only when a new scent filled the air.
Layla could have recognized that sweetness anywhere. The blood, painfully human and delicious, sang so closely to her heart, it might as well have beat with her own pulse. She tore her gaze away from the reaper and started up the stairs toward the arousing commotion.
***
The last time Elise had been this close to a reaper, she had been the one in control. Now she sat in a blood house, a stranger with fangs dragging his nose across her throat while he inhaled her scent. Ashiver traveled down Elise’s spine. She fought to keep her composure, knowing any wrong move could anger this reaper and put her life on the line.
He moved back, a sigh escaping his lips. “This should be fun for both of us. Miss Saint, I fear you seem uncomfortable.” The reaper had beautiful brown skin and glowing dark eyes, a picture of true beauty. Perhaps under any other circumstance, Elise would marvel at the pretty face of this devil and his ability to captivate others while hiding lethality beneath the surface. For now, she could only swallow hard and bunch the lace of her dress in her fists to stop from fidgeting.
“I assure you, I am fine,” she said through gritted teeth.
The reaper cracked a gentle smile. “I paid a large price for you, and I want it to be worth every penny.” His hand came up to brush a curl out of her eye, then trailed over her cheek and down the slope of her neck. She clenched her jaw against the shudder that rose in her as he leaned closer. “Many believe fear makes blood taste better. It’s why predators enjoy the chase before the kill. I can tell you right now, your racing heartbeat is only making this so much sweeter for me—”
The curtains covering the doorway of their private room flew open. In stepped Layla, expression wild and blood streaking down her neck. She locked eyes with the reaper who had jumped back from Elise, though he kept his hand on her throat. “Get your filthy fucking hands off her,” Layla snarled.
In all her years of knowing her, Elise had never seen Layla look so unhinged. Her hair half spilled out of its simple clip, and theblack veins lining her eyes seemed to swell as her anger increased. She bared her teeth, revealing her fangs dripping venom and blood.
The male reaper finally stood up, but he held his ground. “I paid for Saint blood.”
Layla’s eyes widened. “I don’t care what you paid for. Get out.”
This time the male reaper stepped forward. Elise heard the threat in his voice before he even spoke. Now, with two reapers standing before her on the verge of a bloody fight, she felt calmer than she had all night. She much preferred bloodshed to any man getting comfortable near her.
“I don’t think you understand, little girl—”
