Chapter 26 #2
Layla could have told her that five years would not make her remember less pain.
Both of them knew that. Their lives had been changed irrevocably when they were only a few years older than Josi was now, and both of them still wore scars that bled whenever their minds decided to punish them.
But Layla just nodded. “You played beautifully earlier, by the way. I know you were nervous, but you were exquisite.”
A tender hope mixed with sadness filled Elise’s eyes.
“It’s been so long… Thank you, Layla.” She lowered her gaze.
“I feel awful for leaving her. She’s been alone this whole time, taken care of by God knows what kind of deranged ancient reaper traditions…
Now she’s different, and I wasn’t there to help her through any of it. ”
Layla touched Elise’s arm and spoke softly.
“When I was turned and I came here, I couldn’t sleep alone in my own bed because I was so scared.
I kept bothering Valeriya for comfort even though she was the least warm reaper I’ve ever met.
She raised me as a reaper, and I turned out okay.
All that to say, I believe Josi will be all right. ”
Tears rose in Elise’s eyes. “What if everyone else is right and she’s too far gone?”
“You cannot give up now. Not when we’ve come this far.
We have to hope.” Layla drew closer to Elise, pressing her palms to her cheeks before any tears could fall.
“We will bring her home. And then, when everything is calmer here, we can run off to Paris together. We will get Josi back into ballet and you back into piano. We will do whatever we want.”
Elise nodded and breathed through her tears. “Oh mon Dieu. S’il te pla?t, laisse-moi mourir en premier.”
Layla smiled at her shaky French. It had been ages since she’d heard Elise speak it.
Even before Elise’s last-minute move to France, she had studied it with a private tutor at the Saint estate per her father’s request. Layla remembered her own parents trying to encourage her to join Elise’s lessons.
Tobias Saint had constantly insisted that one should always know more than one language.
Better to know what other people are saying, especially your enemies, he’d say.
As a child, Layla had assumed she had no enemies. But now…
“What does that mean?” Layla asked.
Elise only pulled away, wiping at her face.
Before Layla could ask if she had overstepped somehow, Elise was reaching for a pin in her updo.
She pulled it free, allowing her curls to tumble down her shoulders.
A delicate arrangement of diamonds made up the end of the silver pin.
Elise slipped the pretty thing into Layla’s bundle of curls at the back of her head.
As she finished and moved away, Layla grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm first, then her knuckles.
“You’re beautiful,” she murmured.
Elise could only smile in return, and the answering joy that chased away the previous darkness in her eyes was enough for Layla.
***
A hundred feet east of Seventh Avenue, any screams were drowned out by the sound of live music and exhilarated dancers.
Layla understood now why some rogue reapers preferred to hunt around Lenox Avenue and Jungle Alley.
There people were too busy choking down liquor and heading to the dance floor to even consider the dangers that lurked in the shadows just beyond a club’s front doors.
A couple of women stumbled out of another nearby club, narrowly avoiding bumping into Layla and Jamie while they laughed.
Smoke flowed from the ladies’ mouths, and they held cigarettes between their gloved fingers as they waved back to the men who called after them.
The scent of liquor followed them down the street, and Layla wrinkled her nose, wondering how they were still standing.
“How much money do you think gangs make from the speakeasies here?” Sterling asked.
He looked particularly scandalized seeing the number of people smoking out in the open, the women in their revealing dresses, the men leaning heavily against the walls from their inebriation.
He kept turning his nose up and rolling his eyes whenever they came across such a scene.
“Will you somehow turn this into a legal thing and get everyone arrested?” Jamie replied as he walked beside Layla.
Behind them, Elise laughed. She had her hands tucked away beneath her large fur shrug, and though the mass of white fluff covered a significant portion of her dress, she still shone in a way that outdid the light of the stars above.
It was a shame Layla walked in front of her; she wished she could stare at Elise all night long.
Sterling grumbled something unintelligible, then spoke up. “When you said we would be parading as gangsters, I thought you meant the kind who do quiet business with politicians. Not the…loud kind who create chaos in clubs to get what they want while everyone is screaming.”
Jamie threw him a sideways glance. “Which one do you think I am, Sterling?”
“Considering the number of speakeasies you have run and how many people have been killed under your lead, I would say the worst kind.”
“Maybe you two should keep your criminal activities and combative theories to a minimum when we go inside,” Layla suggested.
They had reached the entrance to the Nest Club.
While plenty of clubs in Harlem were Black owned or allowed racial mixing, it still shocked Layla when she was allowed inside without extensive questioning or having to offer a part of herself.
She’d also tried to avoid establishments where humanity was put on display for everyone to see.
To her these buildings seemed less like spectacles and more like coffins with people desperate to hang on to life inside.
The bouncer outside the Nest Club surveyed them with cautious black eyes. He paused on Jamie, his face lighting up. “Vex. Wonderful to see you again. Though business has never been as good as when you ran this place.”
Jamie smiled a charming yet vacant smile. “Even the best have to move on eventually. I’m back for pleasure this time. What have you got for us tonight?”
“Cabaret is starting in a few. The restaurant on this floor is pretty packed, so I wouldn’t expect any openings for a while,” the bouncer said.
“And what if I said I was here for blood and karma?” Jamie asked.
A cold look crossed the bouncer’s face. He glanced behind him back into the darkness of the hallway before leaning toward Jamie. “Are you taking or giving?”
Jamie laughed softly. “Maybe a bit of both.”
“All right, well, I’m not the one to talk to. But I can let the boss know you’re here, and he might give you some special treatment. Do not tell anyone else.” The bouncer gestured to Layla and the others. “Are they with you?”
“They are,” Jamie said.
The bouncer eyed Layla so hard, each roaming look made her skin prickle with an irritated heat.
“All human by the way. I know you’ve been wary of them since the last incident.” Jamie shook his head, sighing. “I cannot wait until the blood house fad passes. They’re turning worse than the Cotton Club.”
The bouncer gave him a sympathetic nod. “If you ever need a new place to post up or a new job, we’ve got you. As long as you don’t cause any trouble tonight. We’ve seen your posters around—don’t turn us into snitches.”
Layla nudged Jamie with her elbow before he could dive into another lengthy conversation with this man.
She was relieved when the bouncer waved them all inside.
Layla rolled her jaw out and exhaled the moment they were hidden by the shadows.
She felt Elise’s hand close over hers as they moved from the darkness of the hallway into the open restaurant on the first floor.
Scents of barbecue wafted around them, and Layla was glad for a distraction.
“Are you okay?” Elise asked, her voice slightly raised to cut through the loud music.
Even though Layla nodded, all she really wanted was to go back to the front of the club outside and tear every WANTED poster down. “I’m good,” she muttered.
Jamie tugged on his lapels as he surveyed the room.
He dressed the part of a gangster almost too well—he looked more gangster than he did in his everyday life.
The black pinstripe suit he wore and the hat he refused to take off were the same kind worn by others at the Nest Club tonight, though he somehow still stood out against everyone else.
Sterling hardly matched him. If anything, the Saint member looked more like a young aspiring politician with his expensive suit and even flashier cuff links.
Even Elise had gawked at his chosen attire when they had first met up an hour ago.
“We should all take our own areas to scout out and maybe talk to people. Layla, I think you will have the best luck at finding the blood rooms,” Jamie said.
Layla bristled at his statement. He was not wrong, but some part of her hated being acknowledged as the one who could most easily sniff out blood.
As it was, the room they currently stood in had such a strong aroma of barbecue, Layla could not smell anything beyond it.
She felt as if her nose had been coated with the stuff, and it didn’t help that everywhere she looked, there were people sharing plates of marinated meat or flagging down servers carrying trays of it.