I was too excited to get this out to revise. :DD
I'll edit it later! :))
NO SPOILERS.
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The Grim Reaper was after me.
The Grim Reaper was after me!
That sentence repeated in my head over and over again with the amplitude of a cheerleader screaming into a megaphone.
"I always get what I want," Death had said to me. It had definitely been a threat, but with this mysterious villain there was no telling whether or not he was being truly threatening or not, when every single word that had come out of his mouth tonight had been laced with menace and cruelty.
"Not this time," I had snapped back in return. God, what had I been thinking? Challenging a being who was clearly much stronger than me? Who was much more intelligent than me?
This was insane! I was running--driving away from what I had once thought was a mythical being. A mythical being who was all too real and dangerous. In church I had briefly learned about the Angel of Death. What was his story? Sure, he collected souls. Obviously. But there was some sort of purpose behind such wicked, mismatched eyes. Every angel had its story in many different religions. For example, Lucifer, the Devil, was once God's best angel. His pride got him kicked out of heaven. He began to think he was more amazing than God, and that he was capable of overthrowing him. God, in return, sent Lucifer down into the Gates of Hell...
"So hot..." Marcy moaned. She was visibly sweating, eyes shut tightly. I leaned over and felt her forehead, then turned the air conditioning on in the car. She started to snore against the passenger window seconds later.
A set of headlights flashed wildly in my rear view mirror as my mind went elsewhere.
"Every time," Death had countered after I basically told him he was never getting what he wanted from me. At that point, the temperature of the pool room had plummeted to an all time low. "Every time for much longer than you can comprehend, I have gotten what I wanted. Whether someone gets hurt in the process, is up to you. You will make your decision now. Your mother might have struck the deal, but I want to see your agreement in writing. I want you to physically say that you are mine."
Mine.
He wanted me to be his? Why me? Why? And why had my mother ever signed a contract with him to save my life?
I was nearly hyperventilating when the red Mustang that had been tailing me and flashing their headlights nudged the back of my car. The car jerked forward slightly and I let out a small yelp. Instinctively, I went to press on the break.
The break wasn't working.
Panic seized my heart and squeezed.
The Mustang behind us hit the back of the car again. I slammed my palm into the horn of the car, cursing them out. This time, Marcy jerked awake, sobering up. "What the hell was that? What's going on?"
"Put your seat belt on! The breaks aren't working and this guy is trying to knock us off the road!"
"It is on!" Marcy whipped her head over her shoulder. "Why are they trying to knock us off the road? Did you try the emergency break?"
"I don't know what to do! I'm afraid to take my hands off of the wheel!"
She went to yank up on the emergency break and the handle snapped right off. Nothing clicked beneath my feet. The emergency break was broken too. "It snapped off! It snapped off! Faith, it snapped off!"
"I can clearly see that!" I tore my gaze from the rear view mirror again, then scanned the bushes on the side of the road, debating whether to turn off and try and slow down the vehicle by running over the foliage. "I refuse to die in this stupid hunk of metal! I'm going to try and slow down the car in those bushes--"
"Faith, look out!"
A cloaked figure appeared in the middle of the road with his arms crossed over his chest. It was Death. For a moment, I wanted to hit him and end this madness. Could he even die?
"You're going to hit it!"
It?
I went to slam on the breaks, and this time, they worked. I shut my eyes right as something large hit the windshield and nearly shattered it. I heard a scream that could have been my own. Marcy and I were luckily both wearing our seatbelts. Nevertheless, both our heads whipped sharply forward as the car jerked to a stop, and I knew I would feel the consequence of the sharp motion the next day. The airbags blew up in our face at the wrong moment, knocking my head back against the seat and momentarily suffocating me. The red, reckless Mustang behind us made a sharp before they slammed into us, scrapping the side of the car with their mirror, before finally stoppingl about twenty feet away.
The pounding music turned off in the Mustang ahead.
Silence.
"Faith?" Marcy squeaked out, pushing back her airbag. Then, more panicked, she started to shove back my airbag as well. "Faith! Faith, are you alive?"
I cut the ignition. Barely.
"Did you see him? Did you see him?"
"See who?"
"The cloaked man! We hit him! How did you not...?" I threw off my seatbelt, wheezing and choking on air. I was hyperventilating. Halfway on the windshield and across the hood of the car was a deer covered in its own fresh blood, twitching and making odd noises that were halfway between what sounded like screams and moans. Mouth open in shock, I threw myself out of the vehicle and onto the concrete and threw up until my stomach was empty.
The deer stopped twitching.
"Oh my gosh!" the shrill, distant voice of a woman shrieked, followed by a rapid click-click-click of heels coming towards me. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! She's dying! It's all my fault, Dev! She's dying! It's all my fault!"
Dev?
The heels got louder and so did the shrill, annoying voice. A perfectly manicured hand started to help me up. "I'm so sorry, honey! I'm so sorry! Please don't die, although it might get me on the popular page again on Instagram if you do! Rest in pieces! Wait, is that the phrase...? Oh my gosh! I don't know how to drive a stick, it's all my fault!"
You have no idea what I am capable of, Death's last haunting words echoed in my skull.
"I'm not dying! Get off of me! Don't touch me, I'm fine!" Shaking her off, I unsteadily got up from my mess on the ground and sluggishly stumbled to the front of my car, blinded and disoriented by the headlights.
"We hit a deer! We hit a poor, helpless deer! I'm never drinking vodka again! Or anything again! Not even Dr. Pepper!" Marcy cried out, before I heard her ungracefully throwing up.
"Help the other passenger, Sarah. Make sure she doesn't choke on her own vomit," a deep, calm voice told Shrilly.
"Ok!" Shrilly--I mean Sarah, shrieked moments later as if Marcy had thrown up on her, and had I not felt like the world was spinning, I would have laughed.
"I saw him..." I murmured mostly to myself. Eyes crossing as I stared into the headlights of my car. "I saw him..." I fell forward against the hood, nearly getting a mouthful of bloody deer fur, when two big, masculine hands snatched me around the waist and plucked me up into their strong arms. They smelled expensive and important.
"Get your hands off of me, you--!" I was so paralyzed by the man's familiarity, that I had forgotten the rest of what I was going to say. It was Devin Star. Devin Star. Father of David Star. President of the D & S Tower, the most powerful advertising agency in the world. One of the most sexy men in the world was carrying me. Setting me down so that I leaned against the driver door of vibrant red Mustang. Waving a hand in front of my face...
"What's your name?" The beautiful man's lips were moving and I was drawn to them like a moth to a porch light. "Can you stand? Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?"
"I'm fine. I have to check on my friend." I started to stumble towards Marcy and the supermodel holding her hair while she barfed, when Devin moved into my line of vision, steadying me with his hands. This was all too surreal. The feel of Devin Star's hands on my arms.
"You need medical attention," Devin insisted. "You almost collapsed over there. Tell me your name and I can arrange for the most comfortable room for you, free of charge. I have a private hospital about thirty minutes away that I own. They'll cook you and your friend some fantastic steak--"
"No," I interrupted, blinking out of my fog, forcing myself to remain firm with Mr. Cash and his Supermodel in front of me. "I need to call my parents and tell them about the accident. Please give me your phone." I had imagined so many instances where I met Devin or David Star and punched them in the face for being so cocky, ruining our city, smiling with their stupid perfectly straight teeth. I hated them. I hated them.
"Listen, there's no need to call anyone. If you won't let me take you and your friend to the hospital, I will take you straight home. Little accidents like this, they don't have to reach the press, you know? Words cannot describe how sorry I am for what just occurred. I take full responsibility. My... date insisted on driving the mustang tonight. Said she knew how to drive a stick..." He looked over his shoulder towards my destroyed car, showing me the back of his perfectly styled hair. "Clearly she was lying to me. It was very stupid of me to let her drive. "
I smiled at him, but it didn't reach my eyes. "I'm calling my parents, and then the police. Give me the phone."
Devin reached a bit urgently into his back pocket. "How about, I write you a thirty thousand dollar check right here and right now if you don't call the police?"
"I don't want your money. Give me your phone," I bit out. I wanted to get the hell out of there. Off of the road. Miles away. Away from him. The man that I knew I had seen standing in the road. Who was taunting me.
"What about a job?"
I started to laugh. Hysterically. "In case you haven't noticed by my lack of enthusiasm towards your charitable offer, I don't like you or your son. I also don't like you. I don't want your money. You people sicken me."
Devin's golden brows pushed together, his beautiful face morphing into agitation. Up close, he didn't look a day over twenty-five. His obviously great physique kept him looking young and pretty.
"How old are you exactly?" I wondered. "You definitely don't look thirty-five."
"I appreciate the compliment. I don't appreciate the prodding."
"It wasn't a compliment. Just an observation. Plastic surgery?"
"Didn't your mother ever tell you to be nice to strangers?" Devin chuckled, handing me his phone.. "You're quite... sassy."
"You mean, I have no filter. I just hit a deer and watched my car get annihilated by this week's bimbo hot supermodel girlfriend. Excuse me, if I come across as a little impertinent, but I could care less if this incident ruins your image or your company's image. In fact, I hope it ruins you and your company's image. I hope that I have a concussion, and if I don't, I'm faking one and I'll work the camera when the press comes to see me in the hospital bed. Now if you'll excuse me--"
"I'M SORRY REINDEER, I'M SORRY!" Marcy was sobbing loudly about the deer and pointing at it. She turned and threw up again. "You know Dasher..and Dancer..." She started sobbing even louder, if that was at all possible.
"You paint?"
"You really are a good painter," Death's voice echoed in my skull.
Devin caught me off guard with that question, returning my attention entirely on him. "How does everyone know I paint?"
"Everyone knows you paint?" Devin took my hand in his before I could respond and shone his cell phone screen on my hand, showing me my index finger. "There's paint on your finger..."
I snatched my hand away from his, warped into his vibrant blue eyes. "Yes, I can paint..."
"You're creative then, yes? Visually?"
"I guess...? What does this have to do with anything--?"
He observed my features from a different angle. "How old are you?"
"I'll be eighteen soon."
"Soon?"
"Halloween."
"Fascinating." Devin seemed amused by that answer. "Good with filing papers? Putting people in line? Clearly, the second one. You also have to be able to walk around in heels..." His blue gaze dropped to my feet. "Heels without spikes..."
"Excuse me?"
"Art school can get expensive, don't you think?" He slid his fingers slowly down his tie, drawing my attention to the perfect fitting of his suit, laying snug against his thick muscles. Truthfully, I was thankful that my car's headlights were bright enough to show me every detail of the six-foot-four gorgeous male in front of me. "College is just around the corner, you know..."
"I never said I was applying to art schools."
"Well, aren't you?"
"Yes." Why am I answering this man so promptly?
"But you can't afford them," Devin guessed. "None of us can. Well, I can. I can afford them, because I have a resonably large paycheck and the ruthlessness of a tyrant when need be--"
"And a reasonably large ego?"
"Let me finish, child. You'll regret not listening to me," he cut in a bit sharply, catching me off guard once again. His tone had gone sour far too quickly for my liking, to the point that I was scared that he would lose his temper completely. "You need this job. Take what I have to offer. There's no catch, just benefits. Protection is one of those benefits. Pay heed to that word. Protection. Let it sink in."
"It's floating." I put my hands on my hips. "You didn't answer my question."
"You already know the answer. I have a reasonable paycheck, and if you play your cards right, so can you."
"You want me to work for you?"
He arched a golden eyebrow. "Don't be silly. Not for me."
I didn't know whether to be offended by that or not. "I'm not working for your company, then. This is a scam. I know a scam when I see one."
"Come in for an interview and see for yourself. Part-time. Hundred dollars an hour if you get the job I know you'll want, and more health and insurance benefits than you can ever imagine."
"Does car insurance come with that? Or deer insurance?" I shifted my eyes to my car across the street
"Nice." He chuckled at that one. "Keep my involvement in this little car incident between you and me, and you won't be driving that car for long." He tapped his Mustang affectionately.
"A car like yours? Are you bullshitting me right now?"
"Not when I'm talking business. Well, not with a woman, at least. I'm too old fashioned." Still composed, Devin smoothly pushed back the lapels of his suit and placed his hands on his hips. Once again I realized how small I was compared to him, and how powerful he was. Not that I cared. "Listen..." he trailed for my name, gesturing with his hand.
"Faith," I offered reluctantly, biting my lip. "Faith Williams."
"Faith Williams. May I call you Miss Williams?"
"Only if you want more plastic surgery on that perfect nose of yours."
"Charming." He smiled flatly. "Very charming. Let's cut to the chase, shall we? I can tell that you don't trust me. Unfortunate, but understandable. I'm going to arrange for someone to pick you and your friend up right now, and get your car to your house, fixed, by tomorrow night. You can decide whether or not to go to the hospital on your way home. I'm giving you my card." He took out his wallet and placed a D & S business card into my hand. "You're clearly an intelligent girl. Intelligent girls don't believe biased media stations. They also don't believe in coincidences. I work and live in the city, yet I'm taking a random drive in the suburbs? As if I'd let a supermodel drive my baby. Please. Consider my obstruction from your friend on the road part of the D & S benefit package. He's long gone now. Hates me, really..."
My heart skipped a beat. "He...?"
Devin leaned in close. "Death."
If I didn't know any better, I'd say my heart had jumped up into my throat. "Are you saying...?" I started to feel dizzy, swaying on my feet. "That you know him? You hit my car on purpose? To let Death know you were there? Like, marking your territory? Is he afraid of you?" I leaned in closer to Devin, lowering my voice until it was barely a whisper. "Between you and me, do you people have a thing for Gothic dresses or something? Because I can't get a freaking break tonight...?"
At that, Devin grinned. "I'm not saying anything more on the matter. Questions will get you in trouble, you know. If you call the top number listed on my business card, my secretary Genie's number, by 3 o'clock PM tomorrow, I can guarantee an interview by six o'clock PM at the D & S Tower, a safe ride to and from the Tower back to your house, and I can guarantee your precious old car arriving in your driveway good as new by 9 o'clock PM. I'll even throw in a car freshener. A limo driver will be taking you and your friend home tonight. Again, make sure one of you doesn't have to go to the hospital. If you have a concussion, it could affect your sense of time, and we at the D & S Towers expect nothing short of punctuality."
There it was again, that damn "we". We, we, we, all the way home.
"But--"
"I really did come out of my way to help you tonight. Friendly reminder."
Devin whistled sharply in Sarah's direction before I could respond, and like a trained dog, his supermodel immediately left my sobbing, drunk best friend, and hurried towards the red Mustang.
And, as if certain I was going to call, Devin Star's last words to me that night were, "We look forward to seeing you tomorrow," followed by a clever little wink that would keep me up the entire night, staring wide-eyed at my bedroom ceiling.
I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into.
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