Chapter 12
Blood consumed Layla. Everywhere she turned, it was all she could smell and taste.
Humans passed her by with no knowledge that she may as well have been a ticking time bomb, waiting for the perfect moment to explode.
Layla could not even remember the last time she’d fed.
The longest she had gone without blood had been just over a week.
Older reapers could teach themselves to go for longer and withstand the draining side effects of starvation.
Layla remembered watching Valeriya function erratically with black eyes and pulsing veins for nearly a month when she deigned to make a point to the younger reapers.
If Layla had starved herself for as long, she would have lost control only a week in.
Now Layla fought to keep her vision straight as she rushed through the street.
A blood fury chased her waning control, turning her surroundings blurry and casting a red sheen over everything in sight.
Her heart pounded so hard, her pulse became the only thing she heard.
In this moment, there was nothing as lovely and delicious as blood, and Layla needed it desperately.
Her fangs sank into her lower lip. Blood spilled into her mouth, calming her enough to slow her racing thoughts.
Two younger reapers waited outside the new reaper lair.
Chosen and paid for by Julius, the space and all the reapers within were his now.
Any other time, she might have stood back to admire the integrity and beauty of the abandoned cathedral they hid in.
As their old hotel remained overrun with Saint members and overbearing police officers, it was the perfect location to lie low in.
Both the young reapers looked peeved—Laure especially so, with her arms crossed and foot tapping on the ground. Celie watched Layla with nervous eyes, her gaze flicking back and forth as if waiting for an adversary to spring out of the shadows at any moment.
“Thank you for meeting me. It’s good to know not all of us can be bought out,” Layla said under her breath.
Laure squinted at Layla, then nodded. “Of course. It’s haunting in there.
” She nodded toward the cathedral. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep myself from killing Julius.
I have to physically hide Celie to keep her safe from him.
I feel like a spy. He’s gotten rid of anyone who remains loyal to you. He cannot know about us meeting.”
Celie squirmed with discomfort, her lips twisting into a pout. “Laure wants to go back to being a rogue again. I convinced her that hearing you out would probably be better than that.”
“I said we’d give you a chance.” Laure’s golden eyes turned molten as she stared Layla down. “Are you really going to kill the little Saint?”
Layla bristled, her skin growing tight with unease. “I need to find her and return her alive to the Saints. It could give me leverage.”
Laure rolled her eyes. “Never trust a Saint—”
“There is one Saint I believe is crazy enough to do anything for Josephine. If I win her over, there’s a chance this war ends before it can even begin.
At the very least, I can ensure we receive a payment for turning Josi over.
Imagine what you could do with that kind of money.
” Layla nodded to Celie. “You could go back home and work on reintegrating into your family. And you…” She looked at Laure. “You can start your own lair.”
The younger reaper’s eyes softened. “And you?”
“I’ll flee this place. Go somewhere no one knows me and live out the rest of my long life in peace.” Layla sighed. “What do you think?”
For a moment, both girls said nothing. Contemplation passed between them as they considered Layla’s words silently. Then Laure spoke up. “Do you have any leads?”
“I’m almost positive karma and the younger Saint are connected somehow; that poison showed up the moment she went missing. As long as we lie low and don’t draw attention to ourselves, we can trace the root of it, and then maybe we can find her.”
Celie’s face paled. “Before Julius.”
Layla nodded. “Before Julius.”
***
“Do you smell that? Smells like a bloodbath,” Laure muttered.
Layla blinked. “You smell it too?”
“We’re in a blood house. Of course you smell blood,” Celie hissed.
The young girl had grown increasingly pale the closer they got to the club.
Now as they sat in the back room, waiting to be seen by the manager, she could not sit still.
Celie practically vibrated out of her seat and soon began pacing around the dimly lit space.
Laure shook her head, eyeing the heavy red drapes that blocked this room off from the rest of the club basement. “It’s not that. There’s something else. I thought I was just hungry, but it’s been in the air for a while now.”
“It’s not just you,” Maria announced as she walked through the drapes. She stood by her desk, her arms folded over her chest and a look of disgust crossing her face. “Something is rotting in Harlem.”
Interest piqued, Layla sat forward. She was glad to have something to focus on other than her hunger and the way it ate at every vulnerable part of her. “What do you know about karma?”
Maria blinked. Her throat bobbed, and she rubbed a shaky hand over her chest, where silvery scars streaked across her collarbones. “It’s not quite understood by anyone as far as I know. Unfortunately it’s making its way through my blood house.”
“What does it do exactly?” Layla asked.
Both Celie and Laure watched with deep interest, their faces grave and shoulders tense.
The blood house manager leaned against her desk, sighing.
“It appears to work at first the way opium does, causing euphoria. Some reapers use it for that high, but it curbs their hunger for just a short time and makes them ravenous when they come down. Some call it ‘the mortal drug’ because it makes them feel almost human. But using too much of it can lead to death. For humans, it’s worse.
Taking it almost always leads to a brutal death, but it has a delayed reaction—hence why it’s called karma.
It hits much later after they take it.” Maria gripped the edge of her desk so hard, her knuckles bulged.
“After a few hours, a human will rot from the inside out. The warning signs are bloodshot eyes, darkened veins, fever.”
“What does it look like?” Laure asked.
Maria opened her mouth to respond, but Celie beat her to it. “It’s clear, like regular reaper venom.” She covered her mouth and whimpered.
Everyone turned their gazes to her, at once curious and concerned. “Celie?” Layla warned.
“I didn’t realize that’s what it was,” Celie gasped.
“When I was working in a blood house before I joined the clan, the manager encouraged us to try it… He didn’t give it a name.
He just said it would make the bloodletting process more enjoyable.
But I saw what it did to humans and reapers.
That’s why I left.” Her hands clamped over the back of her neck as her breathing quickened.
The ratty sleeves covering her arms fell back, revealing twisted scars on her wrists.
Having spent time in handcuffs made of Saint steel plenty of times herself, Layla recognized the burn from the metal.
Her brows furrowed, and she shrank back, her hands clenching into fists on her legs. “Other reapers did this?”
Celie shook her head. “No. Gangsters. They weren’t from here. They made that very clear.”
Memories of the altercation between the gangsters and the Saint outside the blood house hit Layla and realization had her standing abruptly. “Patrons that are on karma and come here, upset that it wasn’t working, unaware there is a delayed reaction.”
Maria narrowed her eyes. “That would explain the sudden influx of infection in my blood house.”
Layla turned to Celie. “Where did you used to work?”
“The Scarlet Lounge.” Celie’s tone grew hard with a warning. “You cannot enter unless you have business to sell or buy.”
Layla lifted her chin. “I have plenty I want to buy. I want to buy karma.”