Chapter 22 #2
Before she could get near enough, a commotion sounded behind her in the back of the alley.
Layla turned and saw the outline of a few people struggling near the other end, where another street intersected.
The scent of blood wafted down the dark alley, though none of it was human.
Still, Layla could sense the presence of humans around it, their essence a fresh and dominating sensation.
With one last look at Julius’s companion, who was in the process of readying this man for his feeding, Layla snuck back into the alleyway.
The scuffle seemed to settle down as a body collapsed and two other people began dragging it away.
She stepped into the streetlight before they could escape, her eyes lighting up when she recognized the faces of two reapers surrounding a fallen rogue reaper.
While Julius was nowhere to be seen, his right-hand men stood with a body between them and gangsters preparing a car for their transport.
Blood leaked from the reaper’s head and mouth, and judging from the rate at which it flowed, Layla guessed the damage had been inflicted by Saint weapons.
Sure enough, a couple of gangsters stepped forward with guns drawn and blades made of Saint steel ready at their hips.
Layla eyed her two clan mates, Roy and Sam, young Black men who had been members of her clan for even longer than she had been. “What are you doing?” she demanded. Fire lit her nerves at the sight of her clan mates taking part in illicit activities against their own kind.
“Julius’s orders.” Sam spoke first, stumbling over his words. “He said this would help the clan and make life better for reapers.”
“Killing other reapers?” Layla demanded.
One of the gangsters waved his gun and nodded toward the alley.
“I suggest you leave before you get too deeply involved in something you shouldn’t know about.
” He had a heavy Italian accent. But what business did an Italian gang have with the Harlem reapers?
Layla wondered. Either Julius had done a suspiciously great job at going behind her back, or she had done an awful job at paying attention to the activities of her own clan.
“No, Bruno, it’s too late for pleasantries.
She’s already seen too much.” A young woman dressed in black stepped into the middle of the altercation.
Wind funneled through the alley, lifting the long black hair from her shoulders and exposing her tanned skin.
Though she spoke with a rather gentle tone, her words contained a threat that matched the unsatisfied frown on her face.
Still, Layla dwelled on the fact that these seemingly new and foreign gangsters had Saint weapons, even though the Saint empire was all but closed for business at the moment.
It was then, with a belated and slightly embarrassing realization, that Layla realized her connection with the Saints might have been her only salvation.
She relaxed her shoulders and willed her expression to slip from hostile to neutral.
“I’m a friend of the Saints. I see you’re using their weapons.
I could get you more or have them cut you off.
Kill me and your ties to some of the most lethal weaponry on this side of the United States is gone,” Layla said in a low voice.
The young woman considered her words, various unidentifiable emotions flashing in her eyes. “You are a reaper, proudly affiliated with a business that wishes for your death? I find that very hard to believe.”
Layla thought of Elise again and how each second spent here was wasted in her search for the heiress. “I’m sure you find a lot of aspects of New York very hard to believe. How long have you been here?” she asked.
A sharp laugh left the young woman. “The worst part of New York is how you monsters murdered my brother and his men in cold blood. There’s not a single sense of morality or control in these streets.
Every neighborhood in the city runs red with blood, and yet you expect everyone to take you seriously. This place is a lost cause.”
Though the criticisms of her home raised in Layla a violent anger, she knew she could not do anything brash before she got significant information from these gangsters.
Julius would likely lie about his involvement and find some way to turn the rest of their clan against her.
Layla refused to let this lead die. “Why not just find the reapers who killed your brother? Why punish all of us?” she demanded.
“Nicoletta.” One of the gangsters gestured toward the other end of the street, where a few police cars had materialized, no doubt to survey the activity in Jungle Alley.
Nicoletta lowered her gun. “Would you not do the same if your Saint was threatened?”
Hot anger flared in Layla’s stomach. “Where is she?” Her voice went hard, despite her efforts to keep calm.
The gangster ignored her question. “You wouldn’t happen to be friendly with the reapers who murdered my brother would you?
” Nicoletta eyed the Saint gun she held, turning it over in her hands while she spoke.
The chamber clicked, and she held the gun up again, facing Layla once more.
“You can tell me the truth about the Diamond Dealers, Layla.”
The blood froze in Layla’s body at the mention of her name.
Just by Nicoletta’s knowing smirk, Layla knew she already had an idea of what had happened with the Diamond Dealers.
Layla had not been the one to incite the fight that had left most of the gang dead, nor had she inflicted most of the violence.
That had been another reaper’s doing. But Layla knew that would not matter to someone like Nicoletta, who took vengeance seriously enough to travel across the world to enact it.
“I have my secrets and you have yours. Do you want to see what happens if I spill the details of your operation to my clan mates? Or should we just never speak of this again?” Layla tilted her head to the side and watched the heated anger rise in Nicoletta’s eyes.
The lead gangster took in a deep breath, her jaw clenching. “You are absolutely right. I’d prefer to shut your mouth so we can never speak of this again.” Nicoletta raised her gun and squeezed the trigger.
Layla moved faster than her aim. Having anticipated her attack, Layla lunged for the gangsters beside Nicoletta, knocking them into her hard enough to jostle the gun from her hand.
Nicoletta cursed and reached for her belt, but Layla was already hovering over her with a Saint blade in her own hand.
She nodded as Nicoletta flashed her a nervous grin.
“I like your fear. It tells me I’m doing something right.
But if you’d only told me what your plan was here, we could have avoided all this. ”
Nicoletta’s smile widened. “I prefer mutiny while avenging my family.” Her eye flicked to something behind Layla, and the tell was all she needed to strike against the approaching gangster.
Layla sank the blade into his gut and reached for his hand, twisting it so hard that the bones and muscles popped.
He dropped the gun, but Layla kept wrenching his arm until the skin split and the muscles pulled away from the bone.
Blood sprayed across her face as she yanked his hand free.
It pulsed in Layla’s own grip for a moment before she shoved it into Nicoletta’s gaping mouth.
The gangster choked on the ruined flesh and blood, her eyes going wide as Layla bared her fangs at her.
“Does this mutiny taste good?” Layla seethed.
Nicoletta gurgled around the hand but still tried to fight back. She reached for Layla, grabbing onto her shirt and her belt, but coming up empty.
Layla gripped her wrist and glared. “Touch me again and I’ll take your hand too.”
A gun cocked behind her. When Layla turned, she saw the unmaimed gangster aiming his weapon right at her heart. Her clan mates, Roy and Sam, had vanished, leaving the rogue reaper’s body behind on the street.
“Get off her,” the gangster demanded. His comrade writhed on the ground by his feet in a pool of blood fountaining from where his hand used to be.
Layla rose, with blood flowing down her chin and chest. She faced the gangster and spat a mouthful of blood and saliva onto the ground.
Already the presence of human blood in her system had her thoughts spiraling into oblivion and her skin prickling with adrenaline.
“You are making a fool’s bargain. Look around.
” Layla gestured to the fallen bodies between them.
Even the police vehicles still idled at a safe distance by the end of the street.
The gangster’s gun arm shook. He pressed his fist beneath his elbow, trying to steady it, but the fear in his eyes was nearly palpable.
Layla relished it now. She felt her heart rate quicken, and her gaze narrowed to the throb of blood in his jugular.
Even now, while mostly full, Layla craved the destruction that would bring the sweet satisfaction of his blood.
She almost wanted him to shoot. To give her a concrete reason to lunge and tear his throat open until a geyser of blood poured down her throat.
“Leave it,” Nicoletta grumbled. She finally got to her feet, wiping at the blood on her face. Without her weapons and confident attitude, she seemed much smaller, though she still stood a few inches taller than Layla. “We’ll take care of this later.”
“You will not,” Layla warned. She eyed the gangster still cradling the bloody stump of his arm. “I suggest you leave town. Reapers never forget the blood of their betrayers. My clan mates and the rogue reapers will go after you, and I won’t stop them.”
Nicoletta gave her a fierce glare. Even her human eyes, full of mortal ignorance, challenged the ravenous spirit threatening to break from Layla. “We do not run.”