Chapter 8
Layla dreamed of her and blood again. Everywhere she looked in the darkness, she saw Elise’s face and heard her song.
The melody, once sweet and pure, had turned haunting in a matter of weeks.
Even the keys she played seemed to bleed, her fingers dripping scarlet and smearing blood along the porcelain pieces.
It wasn’t until Elise finished the song and turned around that Layla saw the disgust on her face.
Oh, Layla. You have turned into something worse than death itself, the Saint murmured. Disgust melted into pure fear as her eyes trailed back to the piano. Beneath the lid, several body parts stuck out, from severed arms to rotting rib cages and heads full of hair. Layla…look what you’ve done…
Distance, Layla found, did not make the heart grow fonder, but instead more voracious.
Layla still sensed Elise all around her.
It was more than just her scent; this time she felt a bone-deep gnawing, like Elise herself had made a home in her.
All the prickly, angry parts of the Saint heiress seemed bound to Layla.
She began to fear what she might do to rid herself of any thoughts of her.
Layla was beginning to hate how destructive Elise’s presence made her feel.
The past few weeks had told her enough about their compatibility.
Hunger consumed her and left her empty, but Layla craved more than just Elise’s blood.
She feared nothing would stop the yearning that built in her every day.
The piano started again, this time more monotonous and juvenile.
It was no sound that could have ever been produced by Elise Saint.
That alone tore Layla from the remnants of her dream state.
Her eyes fluttered open, and Julius’s blurry form came into view above her.
She was lying on the floor in the Clarice foyer.
Julius stood at the decrepit old grand piano, pinning Celie against the instrument so hard, the notes crashed into one another like the sounds of shattering glass.
The younger reaper screamed, blood and tears streaming down her cheeks as Julius held her down and carved into her chest with a blade.
A quick glance at the burns accompanying the slices in Celie’s flesh told Layla it was a Saint blade.
The torture he inflicted on Celie was meant to be lasting.
Layla tried to get up, wanting to push past their watching clan mates, but sitting up had her head swimming and the room spinning around her.
Layla collapsed back to the floor and cursed.
“Are you out of your mind?” she snarled.
Julius merely cracked a cruel smile down at her.
“Nice of you to finally wake up.” He let go of Celie, who straightened up with Laure’s help.
The young reaper pressed trembling fingers to her chest, where traitor had been carved into her flesh.
Blood still dripped from the wound, and Celie whimpered as she regarded the new markings done to her.
“You should be grateful it’s been done to her and not you.
She had the nerve to defend your treasonous actions.
It makes me wonder what truly transpires while I am not around to keep things running properly. ”
Layla tried to ignore the agreeing whispers around her from their clan mates, but she felt their accusations like hot needles being dragged across her skin. Julius continued, gesturing to Celie. “This one has one more chance to abandon her rogue ways before I kick her out.”
Celie flinched, turning into Laure’s arms for comfort. Laure glared at Julius but made no move to counter his arguments.
Julius lifted himself from the piano and crossed his arms while he stared down at Layla.
Though still groggy, Layla could begin to make out the rest of the Hotel Clarice foyer around them and many of their clan mates gathered nearby to watch.
She forced herself into a better sitting position, and her head throbbed.
While the room swayed, Julius appeared before her twice.
She planted her hand firmly on the floor to keep herself from toppling over.
“What did you do to me?” Layla demanded through gritted teeth.
“Don’t worry, it will pass. When I was first turned, I could not help but continue my practices as a physician.
I found myself to be the perfect specimen—an immortal creature that can endure and survive but still undergo changes necessary for observation…
It appears your bite is worse than I anticipated, but my tainted blood did what it needed to do to keep you down.
” Julius’s expression hardened as he lifted his hand, examining the teeth marks Layla had left in his flesh.
He grimaced and fisted his fingers, then snapped at one of their watching clan mates.
The reaper scurried off but was back rather quickly, carrying a small syringe.
Julius snatched it from him and sank the needle into his bicep.
He exhaled as his muscles loosened, his fist unclenching.
Layla’s breath shuddered out. “You poison yourself so much, you’re no longer able to heal as a reaper should.”
Julius tossed the syringe back at the waiting reaper.
“Now, Layla, this is something you could have known had you chosen to pay attention to me when you let me into your clan. A true leader knows everything that occurs in their lair, with all their clan mates. I know you. How predictable you have become just by the things you avoid. Talking about the Saints is a sore subject for us all, but for you, it’s like a knife in a healing wound.
It made me wonder, so I had to follow you out last night.
And imagine my concern when I found you sneaking around the Saint property after your dramatic warnings against doing so.
I think we would all like to know…” The older reaper paused, his eyes sweeping over the crowd of reapers before them. “Why.”
Layla let out another rough breath. “I told you I was turning myself in. You should have let me go. If you want the lair so badly—”
“I cannot help but feel like something is missing from your explanation,” Julius said.
All their clan mates shifted and whispered among one another.
Layla felt their eyes on her like pins prodding her flesh.
She could not bring herself to look back at them and find betrayal in their gazes.
Not when all she had done the past two months had been to keep them safe.
All her efforts—the starvation and the forced distance from the only things she cared about—could not have been for nothing.
Julius pressed on, ignoring her flinches. His nostrils flared, and his lip curled with disgust. “You reek of the Saint girl.”
She reeled back as several clan mates hissed their disapproval. Even Celie’s and Laure’s expressions darkened with disappointment. Layla pursed her lips but said nothing as Julius continued to stalk toward her.
“Is this how it will be now? You choosing them over us? Need I remind you what happened last time you brought your Saint into our home? Unless you have plans to hurt us again. With another false promise at retribution and being cured.” He gestured to a painting of Valeriya that had been hung on the wall over the Hotel Clarice’s grand staircase landing just weeks ago.
Oil paint strokes done by Celie depicted their late leader as a severe woman with dark skin and eyes changed by immortal years and cruel poison.
A gift, Celie had said when she presented the painting to the clan.
To remind us of how far we’ve come and how far we still have to go.
Layla met Julius’s eyes with a cold stare of her own. “I already told you—”
Fire lit Julius’s eyes and his voice lifted, conviction seeping into his words. “Saint sympathizer.”
Ignoring the rise of angry shouts from her clan mates calling for her banishment, Layla pressed on.
She faced Julius with her teeth gritted against the commotion.
“It’s better to have Saints with us rather than against us.
If I find Josephine Saint and return her to the Saints—return her to Elise—we will have allies in the Saint empire—”
“They have had too many chances. If you find that girl, you will kill her. We do not need any more Saints running around Harlem, no matter how small they are. You better hope you’re the first one to find her.
If it’s me, her death won’t be so pretty, and I will start a war against the Saints in your name.
” He backed away and turned to face the crowd, though his words still addressed her.
“The next time you come here reeking of a Saint, it better be their blood, or I will turn this entire clan on you,” he hissed.
At this, several reapers cried out in anger.
The room seemed to swell with their heated emotions and shouted curses.
Layla rose to her feet, still shaky from the effects of Julius’s tainted blood.
She gave him a lethal scowl and allowed her hands to close into fists.
“You fight dirty, Julius. Poisoning me just before you intend to challenge me before our clan. Did you not think you could win a fight against me at my full strength?”
Julius scoffed. “Please. I will, however, accept your agreement to fight for the role of leader if that’s what you’re insinuating here. Is it?” He held his hand out, as if to shake hers.
Layla stared down at his backward offering.
She knew if she shook his hand, it would be an agreement to bare their worst selves, and once blood had been spilled, there would be no coming back from that.
There would be no winner, no matter who was left standing over the other’s dead body at the end.
Such displays of violence claimed everyone involved. Or so Layla thought.
Whatever choice she made, it would haunt the Harlem reapers for an eternity.
***