Chapter 3
Layla dreamed of blood again. It spilled over her like rivers, a brutal display of her own violent nature.
The flesh she tore into felt real in her hands and beneath her nails.
Each scream she pulled from her dying victim sent chills down her spine that only fed into the ravenous beast spurring her forward.
It begged her with sharp teeth and venomous claws: More, more, more, more—
She lurched upward out of her sleep and vomited.
Or tried to. Layla dry heaved over the side of her bed until her throat ached and a thin stream of blood trickled from her nose.
A bitter copper taste filled her mouth, souring every breath she gulped down to settle her system.
Already, a winter chill had taken hold of the air blanketing the room, but sweat beaded on her brow and her chest, where a feverish burning had sparked.
Layla pressed her hands to her face and wiped at the dampness.
When she pulled them back, she found blood beneath her nails and flaking on her hands.
Panic seized her, and a violent tremor passed through her body as she tried to recall the events of last night.
But all she could see was the nightmare from minutes ago that still chased her thoughts.
A sharp knock on her bedroom door tore her focus to pieces.
“Layla? I’m sorry to bother you, but the old blood you’ve been getting from the butcher is starting to get…
old. Honestly, I don’t mind it that much, but the others are refusing to drink it.
” Celie’s soft voice floated into her room.
She sounded so unsure compared to the older members of the clan, despite being just a few years younger than Layla—only fourteen years old.
“It’s disgusting!” Laure chimed in. A soft struggle sounded against the door, and Layla imagined Celie trying to cover her friend’s mouth with her hand. The thought almost made her smile, as it reminded her of how she and her late friend, Mei, would act when they were younger.
“I know it’s been two months since I joined the clan, but Julius reminded me that it’s tradition to have a first hunt to become fully welcomed. We’re really, really hungry, Layla. I can hunt for us,” Celie said.
The mention of a hunt had Layla’s stomach twisting.
Pain descended upon her body like a wild flame, rushing and burning her from the inside out.
Her veins pulsed until her hands shook, and with the blood still coating her skin like incriminating gloves, all she could think about was the last person she had seen and threatened.
Layla flew from her bed and threw the door open.
Celie and Laure looked at her with wide eyes, both girls going ashen with alarm at the sight of Layla. Ignoring their shock, she brushed past them and left the lair.
***
“I didn’t kill him,” Layla insisted. She hid a sigh of relief when she saw the body.
Jamie kneeled before her, examining the dead man beneath the dock. “At least there’s a body this time. I’ll give you that, Quinn. This is, however, the fourth time you’ve called me out for your little lapses in judgment.”
Layla hissed, “This is not a lapse in judgment.” The lie slipped away from her as swiftly as her confidence in her actions from the previous night.
Starvation made her dreams mingle too vividly with her memories nowadays.
Seeing the body helped solidify her reality.
“Something came out of the water and attacked him.”
“You can’t distinguish between your dreams and reality.
You can’t remember whether you killed someone.
What else would you call that?” Jamie demanded.
After shoving the dead man’s gun into his own belt, Jamie straightened, his gloved hands clenching into fists by his sides.
He watched the twitch of Layla’s lips and the muscle feathering in her jaw. “Thirsting after a dead man, are you?”
Layla scowled. Wind coming in from the nearby port brought a new flurry of snow, and she lowered her head to prevent it from getting in her eyes.
Sure, it might have been her fault that she was hungry, but it was not her fault that blood tempted her.
No matter the case, no matter the cause, she would always crave it.
Layla hated herself enough for it already—hearing Jamie’s lackluster complaints did not solve anything.
Before Layla could open her mouth to speak, another voice cut in. “I would call it irresponsible.”
Layla turned to see one of her clan mates approaching the scene.
Snow dusted the top of his cropped curls and deepened the rush of blood in his dark skin.
Even through the long coat he wore, there was visible tension in his muscles, bunched and taut against the thick fabric.
Her skin prickled with unease at the sight of his primed stance. “Julius—”
“I hear this isn’t the first time you’ve called on a gangster for your reaper troubles. Remind me what happened last time you found yourself indebted to this man?” Julius inquired.
The reference to her past involvement with Jamie ending with her in a jail cell made her glare deepen. She had to bite down on the inside of her lower lip to keep from snapping at Julius as bitter anger tightened her muscles. “What are you doing here?” Layla demanded.
Julius gave her a sideways look. “I do find it interesting that you are allowed to hunt, but the rest of the clan isn’t. If this is truly a matter of self-confidence and trust, then there’s no need for drama. I can relieve you of your duties and take over as acting clan head for you.”
“Acting—”
“Until you produce our old leader’s killer, you are no official replacement. And this…” He gestured to the dead body and wrinkled his nose. “This is only further proof of your incompetence.”
A sharpness dug into Layla’s heart at the mention of her old mentor.
It had been two months since she had taken that fatal taste of Elise’s blood and died unexpectedly.
Valeriya’s death might as well have sent every reaper in Harlem into a state of hysteria.
Rogues like Julius felt like they had some kind of claim over the lair now, even though the title of lair leader had gone to Layla, who had taken on more responsibilities for her clan.
The truth about Valeriya’s death was the most important lie Layla had ever kept.
Layla ground her teeth. “Once again, not only is it uncouth to show up at someone’s clan and demand a role, but it’s also ridiculous of you to infringe upon a partnership you have nothing to do with. Leave.”
“I don’t think I will. As a member of the Harlem reaper clan, I would like to be involved in such partner transactions to ensure you are not throwing any of us to the wolves. It wouldn’t be the first time,” Julius said.
The deceased man lay in a heap on a thin layer of snow, half his body hidden beneath the walkway leading to the dock.
With her hunger clouding most of her cognitive resources and her body working to fight the poison still plaguing it, Layla had almost no energy left for her recent memories.
No matter how hard she tried to convince herself this murder had nothing to do with her, all she could see were her nightmares that told her otherwise.
“You were a rogue reaper just two months ago. I doubt you have shed the hostility so quickly,” Layla mumbled as she moved closer to the body.
Though Jamie had already inspected it, she would not put it past him to hide things if only to make her look worse.
Just one look at the body gave Layla a new perspective.
She yanked the dead man from beneath the dock, and the sight of his body made Jamie curse.
The lower half of him was nowhere to be found—his body cut off at his middle, where his intestines and other vital organs seeped from the brutal separation of his flesh.
Parallel markings ran deep into the earth beneath the body—Layla could describe it only as damage made by large claws.
Even blackened dust akin to soot spread beneath the man.
Nothing any normal reaper would have. She dropped the man’s arms and looked back at Jamie.
“There’s blood everywhere. No reaper would leave this much waste. ”
Julius nodded solemnly. “Even a rogue would rather gorge themselves than waste anything.”
“So you’re saying there’s a new monster terrorizing Harlem. Like we don’t already have enough death following us around,” Jamie said.
“In Harlem, nothing stays dead. Not really. Especially not with a poison turning everyone mad,” Layla countered. She wiped the blood from her hands. “Can you take care of this for us?”
Jamie tilted his head to the side. “It will cost you.”
Layla blinked. She considered how the little money she made selling her venom at blood houses was already going to this man to protect a girl she had not seen in months. “How much more?”
“Honestly, our first agreement is getting a little…prickly. Insufferable, if you will. I might have to inflate your fee if you want me to keep my protection up to its usual standards,” Jamie said.
“Jamie,” Layla warned. She felt Julius’s suspicious eyes on her nearby, but she ignored his self-important stare and glared at the gangster in front of her.
His words should not have fazed her so much.
But as long as she was paying him to keep his mouth shut about Elise, the Saint heiress would remain her problem.
Jamie shrugged. “Up to you if you want to keep things civil. I’ll send my guys over to collect later.” He stalked off then, leaving no room for further argument.
With her new position as her clan leader, Layla should have found it in herself to defend reapers.
But the bone-deep exhaustion that had been weighing her down for the past few months kept her from getting into it with Jamie, trying to convince others of reapers’ innocence again. She had done enough of that with Elise.
Julius reached for his wallet. “Just say the word, Quinn. I can handle this.”
“No,” Layla spat. The thought of being in debt to this man made her skin crawl.
Her clan mate shifted, removing his hands from his pockets as he faced her.
“I know you can’t afford that. Most reapers don’t have that kind of money because this city does not allow us to work among humans.
I know for a fact that you are jobless—which is why you cannot provide for your clan—and that you betraying your old leader is why your entire clan lives in chaos now.
I’m surprised you haven’t just asked your Saint girl for some—”
“She’s not my girl,” Layla seethed. Her blood heated at the mention of Elise, and the sound of her name in his mouth nearly had her fangs springing out. She bit back another snapping remark, forcing her nerves to settle before she spilled more blood around them.
A tiny smirk curled Julius’s lips. “If the Saint heiress is so invaluable, why don’t you turn her over? It could be a way for you to win back your clan’s favor. She’s caused nothing but grief for you anyway. I’m sure she has some extra cash lying around too. You could end this now.”
This time Layla didn’t stop her fingers from curling into fists and her fangs from slipping free.
Layla turned to Julius, leveling at him a glare so cold, she saw her own ire reflected back at her in his black eyes.
“Shut the fuck up, or I swear to God, I’ll rip your heart from your chest. I don’t answer to you.
You answer to me. I’m the one hunting Valeriya’s killer.
If you really cared about the lair, you would respect traditional clan rules and listen to the new leader. ”
Julius clenched his jaw. “The clan awaits the results of your hunt. They’re angry, they’re impatient, and they want vengeance on her killer.
You know how feral a beast can get when it has been starved for too long.
You would have brought them a head a long time ago if you really deserved the role of clan leader.
You’re hiding something, and I think it has everything to do with the Saints. I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”
Layla didn’t have a proper response to that. All she could do was watch as he left, unflinching while snow settled on her.