Chapter 9
“No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they’d die for.”
— MARTIN LUTHER KING JR.
J ust like I knew it would be, Sam’s face was all over the news the next day.
‘Tragedy struck in the early hours of Friday morning, as a beloved University of Gravestone student, Sam Thornberry, was fatally struck in a hit-and-run incident.
According to witnesses, Thornberry, a dedicated employee at the renowned Voodoo restaurant, was walking home after a shift when the accident occurred. The local authorities are urging anyone with information to come forward as they continue their investigation into this devastating loss.
Thornberry’s friends and family remember him as a kind and hardworking individual who will be deeply missed by all who knew him. Our thoughts and condolences go out to his loved ones during this difficult time.’
“I knew it,” Shem breathed next to me as we watched the news blip on the bar’s TV. “Poor bastard.”
I wanted to slap him right across the face for calling Sam a bastard. Sam deserved more respect. He was smart and kind and was just about to start a career saving lives. Until he met me… and I took all that way from him.
I was angry and anxious and feeling incredibly guilty when Reaver walked in. He glanced at the screen and smirked.
“That’s the guy I’m covering for?” he asked Shem, turning his back to me to make it clear that I wasn’t invited to their conversation. My already skyrocketing blood pressure escalated.
“Yeah, he was kind of a tool, but still. A hit and run? That’s a shit way to go.”
Reaver saluted the screen, his hazel eyes shining. “Well, thanks for the job, asshole. See you in Hell.”
“You both are disgusting!” I spat, storming away and heading back behind the bar to finish my opening duties. Shem looked a little guilty, but Reaver just looked like I had pissed all over his cornflakes.
Fuck him. He wanted to be a dick? Well, you can’t be a dick to someone who was ignoring the shit out of you. I was determined to just do my own thing tonight and pretend he wasn’t here at all.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that my plan was not going to work. The second he figured out I was ignoring him, he intentionally placed himself directly in my way every chance he got. If he knew I needed to grab a bottle of beer, I would find him leaning against the beer fridge, cruising his phone. If I was rushing to work through some drink chits, he would suddenly be hanging out at the service bar, flirting with the servers.
The final straw was when one of my regulars ordered a double of top-shelf scotch, and when I turned to grab the bottle, he was standing directly in front of it. It would have been difficult for me to reach as it was, considering my height. With him standing in my way, there was no way I would be able to get to it. I was forced to acknowledge him.
“Can you move, please? I need the Blue Label.”
He ignored me.
“Reaver, please move, I need to get the scotch to serve our guest.”
He glanced up from his phone, giving me an irritating little smirk. I snapped.
“Why don’t you get it for him? You’re supposed to be handling the wood, and I’m supposed to be on service. I’ve been doing your job all night.”
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. His annoyingly smug demeanor instantly flipped to violent and hostile.
“You like stealing other people’s jobs, don’t you?” he snarled, bending down and getting in my face. My mouth dropped open in shock.
“Excuse me?” What the hell was he talking about? I earned this job! I worked toward this for four whole years. He scoffed at me, his lip curling up in disgust. “Never mind. Get your fucking liquor. I don’t care.”
He turned to storm off, but I grabbed him by the arm, spinning him back around to face me. He looked down at my hand, and for a moment, I thought he was going to break one of my fingers.
I snatched my hand away, and the look on his face made me instantly regret touching him. I didn’t regret it the same way I regretted touching Sam. I wasn’t worried about my demon killing this man. The look in his eyes made me think the world might actually be better off if he were dead. He seemed dangerous and was glaring at me like he wanted to physically hurt me.
I backed away, and this time, he grabbed me. I squeaked. His fingers dug into my upper arms so hard I knew I was going to bruise.
He glared down at me, his face white with fury. “Oh no, you don’t get to run away now. You think you can put your disgusting little hands on me? Tell me, what was so fucking important you felt the need to soil a perfectly good shirt, Lilith.”
I stared at him, fear flooding through my entire body. The few early birds at the bar hadn’t seemed to notice that our interaction was hostile yet, and I wasn’t sure if I should call for help or not. It took a beat, but after a moment, I remembered who I was.
This jerk-off did not know who he was fucking with. I was the apple of Death’s freaking eye. If Reaver thought he was the scariest thing I had come up against in my life, he was goddamned delusional.
“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.” I hissed, low enough that the guests wouldn’t hear.
He leaned in close and put his lips against my ear. I got a whiff of frankincense and sandalwood. I made a face. He smelled like a funeral .
“Make. Me.” He breathed into my ear, his hot breath making me shiver in revulsion. Reflexively, I moved to knee him in the balls.
That worked. He dropped me and stepped back fast enough that my kick didn’t land, but he still looked furious.
“What is your problem!?” I snapped at him.
“ You are my fucking problem.”
“What the fuck did I ever do to you? I just met you yesterday!”
He narrowed his eyes at me, then whipped out his phone and tapped away on the screen before flipping it to face me.
My jaw dropped.
“Is this you?” he asked. He scrolled through a Google page with results for a search against my name.
‘Lilith Cortland, suspected in the deaths of Lee and Serafine Daniels.’
‘Coraline Jepherson, foster parent to Lilith Cortland, pushed in front of a train by a crazed homeless man.’
‘Lilith Cortland, foster child of Sade Meadowland, claims she was ‘at the mall alone’ at time of death. No witnesses to back her claim.’
I gaped. I knew there were headlines. I just had never seen them all neatly piled up in one organized search page .
“I googled you before taking this job,” he sneered. “Looks like everyone you touch fucking dies , Lilith. What happened to Sam, huh? Did you organize that hit and run?”
I stared at him, my eyes filling with tears. “N-no.”
“N-n-no,” he cruelly mocked me and glared down his nose. “Are you going to cry ? Did I hurt the little deathtrap’s feelings? ”
“Fuck you. Those were all freak accidents,” I whispered.
He looked down at his phone critically, swiping a finger up to show the long, long list of freak accidents associated with my name.
“One, maybe two of these I’ll buy as an accident. Not twenty-two. And who knows how many more there were before people started suspecting you.”
I just stared at him, with my fists clenched at my sides. The scars on my wrists throbbed beneath the leather cuffs I religiously wore to hide them.
Reaver bent down again, putting his face so close to mine our noses were nearly touching. “So forgive me if I don’t want to cozy up and be best friends with someone who seems to kill everyone she fucking touches.”
I stared at him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. He let out a low, cruel laugh before stepping away. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, he put a butt between his lips. He nodded his head toward the Blue Label on the highest shelf and turned away.
“Good luck reaching the top shelf, deathtrap. I’m going for a smoke.”
The rest of the shift was absolute hell. My drink and chit times were abysmal. Reaver didn’t only not help, but he actively tried to sabotage me. He would take orders at the wood and not ring them in or start chits and leave them half-finished. By the end of the night, we had to comp several hundred dollars worth of drinks and had two complaints to management.
I was furious and terrified at the same time. I could tell Rafael was not happy. I tried my best to get the bar clean enough to meet his standards by the end of the night, but between Sam’s death and how mean Reaver had been, I just wasn’t operating at my best.
The more upset I was, the happier Reaver seemed to be, which both hurt and made me feel like I was an inch tall.
While cashing out in the office, Rafael sat us both down, and I braced myself. We were going to get in shit. Or worse… written up.
“I expected better from you two. Tonight was a disaster,” Rafael said.
I was nearly in tears, but Reaver was leaning back in one of the dusty office chairs, staring at the ceiling and swiveling back and forth as if this whole thing was a joke.
“I know, I’ m sorry. I need to try harder,” I said quietly, knowing there was no point in making excuses.
Reaver snorted a laugh, finally looking down at us. He noticed that I was barely holding back tears and sneered. I tried to scowl at him, but it just made a tear spill over. His eyes followed it as it ran down my cheek, and he smiled.
I fucking HATED him.
“Enough of this,” Rafael snipped, glaring at Reaver. “You two need to get over whatever it is that’s going on between you. You’re both coming in tomorrow to work through training. I expect you here at ten in the morning, and you will be training until the openers come in. We have a big bachelor party buying out the entire restaurant next weekend, and I need you both to have your shit figured out by then.”
Fuck. I did not want to spend my entire day off with this fucking asshole, but I wasn’t really in a position to argue. I needed this job.
“Okay. I’ll come prepared with some worksheets, and we can get started on free pours,” I said, forcing myself to tackle this challenge like I did everything else. I reminded myself of how much I had already suffered through and survived. There was no way I was letting some douchebag bartender bring me down.
“Fine. Whatever,” Reaver said, sounding bored. He stood up to leave despite the fact that Rafael hadn’t dismissed us. I scowled after him.
“You need to get him to work with you, Lilith, or things are not going to go well for you.”
I whipped around, glaring at Rafael. “You said you were going to talk to him!”
Rafael gave me a stern look. “I will, but you need to do your part here too.”
This all felt incredibly unfair. I was sure there were tons of people out there who would die for a chance to bartend at Voodoo. Why were we entertaining the temper tantrums of this tattooed pretty boy?
“Fine,” I snapped and grabbed my coat. “But this is bullshit.”
I had never spoken to Rafael like that before, and his mouth dropped open as I stormed out. I didn’t care, though. I just wanted to go home, snuggle my cat, and watch a movie.
This night had been shit.
I burst out the back door of the restaurant into the alley that led to the subway and found Reaver smoking with Shem. I scowled. The last thing I wanted was to talk to him, so I kept my head down and brushed by, avoiding eye contact.
“Off to murder your next victim, deathtrap?” Reaver sneered on my way by. I stopped in my tracks and whipped around to face him. Shem took one look at me and stepped back.
“Easy Reav, don’t piss her off too much,” he murmured, looking unnerved. I frowned, wondering if Reaver had been filling his head with lies. I wasn’t really in a position to have friends, but if I was, I would have considered Shem a friend. My eyes darted back and forth between them, and I suddenly realized that Reaver could very well turn Shem against me.
The anger melted out of me, and I abruptly found myself feeling tired and sad. I felt my eyes burn with tears again, and I let Shem see how hurt I was. He frowned, but it was Reaver who stepped toward me, flicking away his cigarette. To my shock and horror, he reached out and curled a finger under my chin, tilting my head up to face him.
His gorgeous hazel eyes searched mine, taking in the wetness that had gathered. He leaned forward, put his lips next to my ear, and a shiver of revulsion coursed through me. I tried to step away from him, but he gripped my jaw and snatched up my wrist, holding me in place.
His large hand wrapped around my leather cuff, and I felt him dig a finger under the lip of the thick bracelet. I gasped as he stroked the scar beneath. He must have seen them poke out when I was reaching up for the Blue Label earlier.
“You going to cry again, deathtrap?” he hissed into my ear as he pressed his finger harder into my scar, making me wince. “Let me see those pretty tears.”
I yanked away from him, pushing him off me as hard as I could. He let go and stepped back, giving me the most sinister smile I’ve ever seen.
I glanced over at Shem, my face white with shock and humiliation.
He looked uncomfortable. “Dude, that was pretty fucked up.”
Reaver shrugged and lit another cigarette, making eye contact with me again. His eyes flashed in the dark. “I have a feeling our little deathtrap likes it fucked up.”