Page 55 of Our Vicious Descent
Apprehension turned into joy, and Elise relaxed as she settled into a gentle melody. As the song continued, she seemed to pick up more confidence, her fingers coming down more violently on the keys and her head bobbing slightly to the music. Even as the crowd began to cheer, she remained focused on the notes she followed in her head. The peak of the song came around, and the room fell away from Layla. For a beautiful moment, it was only her and Elise in the room—Layla listening to Elise pour her heart out at the piano and watching her with awestruck eyes. Her body vibrated under the intensity of Elise’s music. Layla grew half convinced that the thudding of her heart made up the pounding in the floorboards beneath her feet. She might have gotten carried away with her wide smile and shining eyes if Elise hadn’t ended the song.
The moment her hands stilled on the keys, the crowd erupted into a round of applause that seemed to shake the room. Layla was the first one to catch Elise’s eye. She gave the audience a quick bow, then hurried out of the spotlight. While people resumed their dancing and excited chatter about the night, Layla could feel only Elise’s trembling body against her own. Her heart raced from pure adrenaline of being put on the spot, and Layla could have sworn her own heart beat just at the sight of her fully returned happiness. It wasmore than a spontaneous performance—it was a reminder of all they had been through to get to this point and all that stood beyond the stage, waiting for them.
“Was it okay?” Elise asked. Her cheeks flushed with a frantic sort of energy, though she smiled.
Layla touched her hand and nodded. “You were magnificent.”
“I just played what I knew, and it felt right.” Elise tucked a curl behind her ear, and Layla noticed the blossoming blush on her cheeks. “That was the first time I didn’t mess up your song.”
Something in Layla’s stomach fluttered. “That was the first time I heard it all the way through.”
A moment of silence passed between them. From the vulnerability in Elise’s eyes and the aching of her heart in Layla’s chest, she felt like she was brushing up against something beyond either of them. In the five years of being a reaper, all Layla had tried to do was forget the human feelings she had been torn away from. As a reaper, there was no love for her parents, no love for human activities, no love for her best friend. Until now. She stood in the middle of a crowded club with her, servers and dancers pressing in around all sides, yet all Layla could think about was how much she no longer cared about the damnation of it all. Hell could close in on the world, and she would still turn to Elise, even if the only path left had her soul destined for ruination. Darkness she had become, and darkness she would return to. Even if she lived forever, this one part of her life would remain forever light. The rest of it could have been shrouded in dullness for all she cared. People would move on, people woulddie, the world would build new life, new meanings, and rules, but Layla would always stay the same. If this was the moment she understood herself the most, then this was how she wanted to be defined. By her love, not the loss of it.
So, when Elise pulled her into her arms and coaxed her into a slow dance, Layla went willingly with her. At first their hands were clasped, with Layla’s other hand on Elise’s shoulder while Elise’s hand rested on her waist. When trying to move closer to her proved futile, Layla frowned. “You hold me at a distance,” she said.
Elise laughed softly. “I hold you in the proper ballroom pose. I think we look dashing and blend in well.”
“We are two women dancing and looking as if we want to devour each other. We do not blend in at all.” Layla rested her hands on Elise’s hips and sighed with contentment as Elise slung her arms around her shoulders. “Much better. And a proper ballroom stance is different.”
“Dance master, are you?” Elise tsk-tsked under her breath and rolled her eyes.
Layla gave her a smug smile. “It is the one thing I was ever good at.”
Elise’s expression softened. “You were great at being my friend.” She scooted closer to Layla to avoid bumping into a spinning woman from behind. Layla’s hands tightened on her waist as their chests pressed together, their hearts beating so close, it might have been impossible to tell them apart.
“Until I was not. And I became the devil,” Layla said. She remembered her rage-induced hunt from all those years ago andhow vicious she had wanted to be if only to scare Elise into never seeing her ever again. Layla had never anticipated having such easy access to her. Climbing her wall and tumbling through her window in the middle of the night had shocked them both, but while Elise had frozen in her bed, Layla had taken advantage of her surprise and yanked her out of it. Before she could even process being on the wrong side of her best friend’s affections, Layla had thrown herself over Elise and began tearing at her throat and chest.
Elise’s soft voice brought her back to the present. “If I must be tricked by the devil, let it be one that wears a familiar, pretty face.”
“I don’t think that’s how that quote goes.” Layla laughed softly.
Something dark flickered in Elise’s gaze, and Layla felt her arms stiffen around her shoulders. “I was thinking…five years ago, if you had really wanted to kill me, you would have, right? I mean, you were a new reaper; you could not control your urges and your strength then. You obviously wanted me dead, but you didn’t succeed. Why?”
Blood soaked Layla’s vision again. Images of Elise lying limp beneath her with blood seeping through the carpet as it spilled from her chest and dripped from Layla’s shirtfront after it had sprayed in a wild display of violence. All she could think in that moment was how much more she wanted. And Layla wanted it all from Elise. She wanted her ruin, she wanted her blood, she wanted every part of her—even if it was to snuff her out with a single squeeze of her fist around her rapidly beating heart. Layla had licked the blood fromher mouth that night and promised herself a feast built on vengeance and brutality.
“Sterling and your father came in,” Layla muttered, her mind still locked into the past.
Elise shook her head. “You would not have needed more than a few seconds, but you hesitated—”
“Do you want me to tell you it’s because I remembered our friendship and suddenly could not follow through on my anger-induced promise? Because that’s not the case,” Layla said sharply. She already regretted her tone, but seeing the images of Elise bloody and dying by her hand made her lose touch with her warmth. Coldness swept through her body, and Layla considered pulling away, but Elise kept a firm grip on her. “Elise.”
“You deserved to be angry, Layla. I don’t want to take that away from you or change the narrative,” Elise said. If she was hurt by Layla’s sudden switch in tone, she did not show it. Instead, she spoke with a strong sureness that only made Layla want to stay close. “That night was a tragedy for both of us, and I want to understand why you did not put an end to the bringer of your suffering. I want to understand why I’m still here and no one else is.”
Layla’s breath caught. Her chest stilled against Elise’s, and the sight of burning tears in Elise’s eyes nearly did her in. She thought back to the night she had intended to kill Elise, when her hands had moved between her throat and her chest, Layla’s eyes, which had gone red with blood and fury, could not focus on a single part of the bruised and broken body before her. “I could not decide whichpart of you to hurt first. There was so much pain, I could not make a decision. Before I figured out what I wanted to do, Sterling was pulling me off you.”
“And what was that decision?” Elise asked in a soft whisper. By now the noise of the crowd had fallen away as they locked in on each other’s every word and expression.
Layla swallowed. “I wanted to turn you. I realized death was too easy for you. I wanted you to suffer in damnation with me.” She remembered her hand closing over Sterling’s gun in his holster before breaking out of his arms and leaping from the window. The Saint bullets, she believed, would have put an end to all her misery. To be a reaper, stuck in a sort of torturous purgatory for an eternity, without the chance for relief—there had never been a more terrifying fate for Layla then. Maybe dragging Elise with her might have at least lessened some of her pain or given her something to hold, even if her hands grew talons and made her bleed. Elise owed her that much. To bleed for her, to become ruined by darkness.
For so long, Layla wondered what her place in the world was as a reaper. Confined to the darkest parts of society without descending into hell itself or having a chance to ascend above. Death forever chasing her but never taking a lethal bite. It was clear she was no creature of God, but an abominable thing not worthy of even hell. Reapers wandered like purveyors of death, their rich feasts and bloody tendencies as immortal as their lives. While others thought themselves gods and killed indiscriminately, Layla fell into an in-between pit of despair that brought with it more moral confusion than she had ever been able tounderstand. She came to realize that there was no philosophy or moral truth in suffering. Only loneliness had made itself her companion during it all and become the sole promise of reaperhood.
“Neither of us would have stood a chance. Not if we were together as reapers,” Layla said.
Elise shook her head. A dark sadness had deepened her expression, but only certainty rode her words. “Even the most monstrous beings find love in the darkest depths of hell.”
Layla clenched her jaw. “Love does not guarantee anything, nor does it solve anything.”
“No, but it brings light to the darkness.” Elise’s arms tightened around Layla. “I already told you, I love your darkness as much as I love your light. Every part of you that craves blood and seeks carnage has found its way to my heart. If you must be monstrous, then you should be. There are far worse monsters in the world that do not suffer from a centuries-old affliction that leads everyone on an inevitable path of damnation. You are not the worst creation out there. Men who think themselves gods and act as monsters without reaperhood in their blood—they are the worst.”
