That drink felt good. My first drink in a year was technically a tequila shot. But I honestly, wouldn't have it any other way. However, that slow drink I had after with Lou and Mike? That was good. Really hit the spot.
Mike gave me his jacket to cover the wound and the blood on my dress before dropping me a few blocks away. I walked past Onoda and the receptionist with no hesitation. Though I'm sure they wrinkled their noses in disgust at the strong smell of alcohol on me. Didn't help that my breath stank of it too. The dried blood was already starting to itch by the time I got to my apartment. My outfit went straight in the shower with me.
I was dripping rusty water for the entire time I was under the water. It formed it's familiar rusty puddle when I peeled it off and dropped it on the floor. Then I picked it up, and flung it in the washer for it to have it's own cycles. It's navy blue, it should be reusable afterwards. Might have to get the sleeves removed. The hole's a bit hard to explain away.
I pulled on my robe after my shower. Body barely dried and my hair stilll dripping water as I strolled over to the bar in my living room. My arm was killing me. I need a drink.
I used have quite a high tolerance when I was still drinking a year ago. The demon and angel essence just seemed to have made it higher. I think I finally passed out from the alcohol at the brink of dawn. I wasn't an alcoholic before, but I would certainly turn into one now if it was the only reprieve I would ever get from my thoughts.
Dottie woke me up the next day. Her scolding me about being late for work in the crucially busy days before Christmas made me realised I couldn't take a day off. I didn't have a choice. Leaving those two at the restaurant alone during the busiest weeks would be an absolute shit move on my part. No matter how grieving, depressed, or hungover I am.
So, I dragged my deadbeat, hurting body to work. And then I dragged it right back home at eleven. I don't want to see a single one of them. And I don't want any of them to see me like this. I just want a few days of peace, preferably with just alcohol.
I got two days of reprieve from them. Work, and then drink- that's all I did. A painkiller would probably be useful, but I wasn't just dealing with physical grievances at the moment. I felt... drained. Constantly. No matter what time or hour of the day, or what I was doing, or who I was with. The bullet wound didn't make matters any easier. The pain was at its highest during the end of my shift each night. And I was not looking forward to the all-night Christmas party. The wound wasn't healing fast enough for me. It's probably fast by human standards, but not fast enough to make it to Christmas day.
I groaned with the combination of shoulder pain and my massive hangover. The sound echoed in the silent changing room. The tight red number with the fur I was being forced to wear for tonight was giving me trouble. I'd had to buy a poncho for it to cover my shoulders because this was strapless. It would be really hard to explain away the bandages on my arm to Dottie and Sasha.
The latter of my co-workers threw me a worried look as I stepped out of the backroom, tightening the poncho at my neck. "You okay?"
"I'm fine, Sasha."
"You look like shit."
"I feel like shit." I paused at the sink as a bout of dizziness and nausea hit me. "You got any lemons and honey?"
"It's in the same place you left it yesterday... and the day before that."
"Thanks."
"Is something going on?"
"Nothing." I pushed away from the sink and pushed away the question. It had become an annoying part of his vocabulary over the last three days. "It's nothing."
"You're lying."
"So, what are you going to do about it?" I replied deadpan, yanking the fridge open to pull the lemons out.
"Don't be rude. It's Christmas."
"Fuck th-" I cut myself off, running a hand over my face. "Yeah. Sorry. It's been a shitty few days."
"You can..." He paused as I heard a pan start sizzling. "... talk to us."
"I know." I can't. I fucking can't. "It's fine. I'm dealing with it."
"Need help?" Another new sentence they'd been using lately.
"Nope." I pulled out a lemon, turning around and borrowing a knife to cut it in half and squeeze the juice out. Sasha walked by, sliding me the honey. I threw him a grateful look before pouring a few spoonfuls in my glass.
He let me stand in the kitchen and drink the hangover lemon juice in peaceful silence. My shift had yet to start, so I was just enjoying the amicable feel of th-
"Ryleigh, there are people asking for you."
I sighed into my glass, raising some bubbles. My bloodshot eyes went to Dottie standing at the kitchen door. "Give me two minutes."
Concern flashed across her grey eyes, but she nodded and turned right back around to leave. The little cotton bobble on her Santa hat was the last thing to leave through the door.
"Bit early for customers, eh?" Sasha spoke up behind me.
I nodded, glancing at my mobile. "Fifteen minutes early."
"You going out there?"
I shrugged, unbothered as I continued to sip my drink. "Fifteen minutes till my shift starts. I'm not going anywhere."
Sasha's deep rumbling laugh echoed around the kitchen. I smiled to myself, closing my eyes and working through my drink. I felt better already. The essences didn't let me throw up, but the nausea was vanishing. And if I closed my eyes, it felt like I was home... apart from Sasha humming his national anthem under his breath, and the banging of pots and pans.
Dottie came by once more to tell me they were getting impatient and to drop off their orders. Out of spite, I decided to do my makeup before heading out which delayed my shift by five minutes.
However, the two men sitting at the bar enjoying brunch and coffee didn't seem to mind the delay. My eyes went over them as theirs roamed over my outfit. Old guy, recently divorced or hiding the fact he's married by the missing tan around his ring finger. Relatively younger guy- actually, middle-aged. Scruffy beard, unkempt, and also dealing with a hangover.
I walked up to them, flashing my customer service smile as I did. "Merry Christmas. And sorry for the delay. It took a while to get ready."
"Understandable." Smirked the middle-aged man, speaking in a tone that showed he thought he was a gift to womankind. "You made good use of that time."
I laughed easily. "Thank you. The bar is open, gentlemen. What can I get you?"
"Information." The older guy mumbled through a burger. My eyes went to his hand as he slid a badge across the counter. Seeing the gold insignia sent a chill down my back. Cops. "I'm Detective McCreedy, and this is Detective Samuels. We're here to check up on some missing persons."
I looked back up, meeting his droopy, eyes. "Do I need to have a lawyer present for this?"
"No."
"I'll call my manager anyway." I took a step to the side and whistled. Dottie immediately looked up. "Dottie, they need you."
She nodded, taking a few moments to scribbled something down before walking over in the same tacky red dress I was wearing. She smiled at the two. "What can I get you two?"
"Nothing." McCreedy's eyes flickered to me. "We were just questioning Ms. Ryleigh here about a few missing persons."
Dottie's face immediately changed, going from customer service to serious business. She held out her hand. "Your badges, please. I'll need to note down the number, names and precinct."
Samuels gave McCreedy a look a disbelief, McCreedy just nodded. I stayed quiet as they rattled out a few numbers, and addresses, throwing in the name of their superiors as a bonus. "Anything else?" Samuels drawled.
"Nope. I'll wait here while you ask her questions."
"No problem." McCreedy turned to face me again. "You don't need to worry about having your manager present. This is just us asking around. We'll be done before you know it."
I met Dottie's worried eyes, giving her a reassuring smile. "I can handle this. Go work."
Dottie raised an eyebrow, still all business. "You sure?"
"Yup." I jerked my head to the side. "Go."
She held my eyes for a moment, glancing between the detectives before turning away, hesitation in every step.
I met McCreedy's eyes again, nodding. "Shoot."
"Alright." He gestured to Samuels, who pulled out his phone and turned it to face me. "You seen any of these people?"
I pulled the phone towards me with one finger, looking at the first picture. I'd seen this woman's head dangling from the angel's hand, the next one had his throat slit as I looked him in the eye, the next was shot by his own gun, the next had his neck snapped, the next had his throat cut, the next had his neck snapped, the next...
It was twenty people, all the faces starting a replay of the scenes of that night in my head. I'd seen each one of the people die. Splayed out on the floor in several forms forms of disarray or death. They were all dead. Every single one of them.
"No." I replied easily, pushing the phone back. "Not a single one."
"None of them came here?" I looked up at Samuels, meeting his blank eyes and reading his empty aura. He believed me.
"No." I shrugged easily, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the bar and distract him with my cleavage. "This place isn't exactly the young crowd type. The most we get here are people your age. Or much older."
He grimaced, seemingly hurt by the comment. "Uh, thanks." His eyes flickered down. "You have not ever... seen these people?"
"No." I glanced between the two men. "Should I have?"
"They were seen walking into the alley right here a few days ago." McCreedy mumbled through bacon. "Figured you might have seen them."
I shook my head. "We share that alley with approximately four other buildings. It leads out into another main road running parallel to this one."
"We know that." Samuels nodded. "Like I said, just checking around." He shifted in his seat, sliding off and giving me that usual sheepish smile first-time patrons had. "Washroom?"
"That side." Where the sign is.
He nodded, walking away and tugging up the pants he'd probably forgotten to attach a belt to.
My eyes shifted to McCreedy once Samuels was out of earshot. "What's the meaning of this?" I finally asked, my voice low.
McCreedy paused in the middle of raising a fork to his lips, smirking slowly at me as his eyes flushed with ink. "Don't worry about it. We got your back, Ryleigh."
I leaned forward. "Fucking cops? Really? Couldn't you have kept them away?"
"We got a tip-off. Had to check." He shrugged easily, essence roiling as I saw irritation in his eyes. "One of the Hunters, no doubt. Couldn't trace the call. There was no clue as to where we could find them at that cafe either."
Surprise crossed through me. "There was no one there?"
"No." He sneered. "By the time we got to it the next day, it had been cleared out. Do you know anyone who should've been there?"
"I..." My mind went blank. Everyone I'd seen back in the kitchen had stepped out to fight. "As far as I know... no one should be there." I mumbled, cocking my head. "I think. I... I'm not sure."
"We didn't find anyone." He ran a hand through his hair. The old man was much more energetic as a demon. "No signs of a rushed escape either."
"They had to be prepared for this to go sideways then." I felt my gut curl. "There are more of them out there."
"More specifically, more special bullets out there." His eyes flickered down to my chest too. "How did you know what I was?"
"No aura, only essence." I replied absently. I felt like someone was missing. But at the same time, I didn't. Who was it? Or was I just being paranoid?
"So, you are an angel."
"No." I replied curtly. "I'm both."
"Whoa." He laughed. "You're a freak."
I threw him a glare. "Shut up."
"How's your shoulder?"
I groaned exasperatedly. "What do you not know?"
He laughed again, hunching over his plate as the door to the washroom creaked open. "I missed out on the party, but not the details."
As I watched, the ink in his eyes receded and the energy vanished from his face. He became a hunched, old man once again right as Samuels returned to his seat.
Samuels flashed me a dazzling smile. I could smell mint on his breath. "So, what'd I miss?"
I threw him a tired look. "I have customers." My reply was curt, my wording dismissive as I turned away to take the orders of the men who'd sat down at the other end of the bar. It was only as I was walking towards them that I realised my heart was beating out of my chest.
I had been confused as to why a demon was here with a human, but when he slid the badge across so I could see it- I'd felt my heart drop. It was terrifying. And right now, I didn't have any choice but to hope that the demon- that McCreedy guy- would handle it. I had nothing else. No strings to pull about handling this.
Dottie and Sasha came over to ask me what had happened a few times, I explained the experience to them while sounding as bored as I could. Like it was something I was used to dealing with. They let it drop as the lunch rush increased. The same lunch rush melded into the evening rush, that melded into the night party. It was crowded. The place had been almost full the entire day, and I was about ready to collapse halfway through the night.
I waved cheerily to some demons who were mingling in with the humans, feeling lucky that they were too distracted to be able to ask why I hadn't been open for a few days. But the slight uplift it provided to my mood didn't last as I started to feel my arm throb.
After a whole day of working, lifting bottles, handing out trays, filling glasses, pulling tricks, manning the register and running back and forth from the store to restock- my arm was shot. It felt like hell. It hurt like hell.
And despite the pain, I felt guilty for taking secret shots during the night. These were genuinely in order to keep the pain at bay and keep me going. I hadn't done this in so long that it felt like committing a crime now.
I staggered back out of the storeroom, perfectly balanced in my heels as the box of flavored vodka threatened to tear my wounded arm apart. Gritting my teeth, I trotted it over to the back of the bar, crouching and dumping it before resuming serving. Thank you Antonio for forcing me to include weights in my workout.
I walked all around, mixing in what seemed like my millionth candy cane into a drink tonight only to look up and meet a familiar set of eyes.
"Morning, Ryleigh."
"Hey." I replied absently, immediately rushing away to prepare four more cocktails and not returning Lou's smile.
He opened his mouth to say something as I stopped to place his whiskey and a glass of tequila in front of him. "Wait. The angel isn't h-"
"He just walked in through the door." I threw over my shoulder, shaking up a drink as I said that.
"I... see." He replied, sounding slightly irritated. His features smoothened out a moment later, smiling at me with a mischievous look in his eyes. "You haven't thanked me yet."
I knew I didn't like that look. "What for?" I asked, eyes glued to his in a moment of confusion as I poured out the drink in a martini glass.
"I knew tonight would be busy for you without you telling me." He gestured around the place. "No barriers."
I rolled my eyes as I turned away. "Sure. Yeah. Thanks. You're a genius."
I walked away to serve the bright green martinis, returning to find Mike sipping his tequila. He nodded at me, I nodded back. A simple greeting.
"Of course," Lou piped up, continued from earlier, "I was thinking of doing that anyway because you haven't been open for a few days." He narrowed his eyes as he met mine. "You avoiding me, Ryleigh?"
"No." I grunted as I strained a lemon, chucking the used pulp and pips in the trash. "I needed a break."
"Having nightmares about that night?"
"No." I met his eyes, gritting out my word's as I felt my irritation rise. "I needed. A. Break."
"You didn't ask for one."
"At this point, I should have to."
"Stop it, demon." Mike growled out, blue eyes flashing to no avail. "She's still human. She needs time off."
"Not for me, she doesn't."
I placed the strainer I was holding down, before slamming my hands against the bartop. The sound was drowned out by the music and people. "Listen the fuck up, Lou. I got shot a few days back. I've been doing 16 hour shifts because of your ass for months. And right now, I'm fucking injured, so I can barely work a few hours but I have to run a full 12-hour shift. My arm is killing me. I can't feel anything above my elbow, and I need to drink to get through the pain, but all you fucking care about is your daily fucking drink!" I twisted, my hand wrapping around the bottle of whiskey to slam it right down in front of him. "Fucking take it! And leave! Me! Alone!"
My last words had to be forced down into a hiss because I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell. I wanted to get out of this place with the loud music, and too many people, and bright flashing lights, and the smell of alcohol. I wanted to get out. I wanted... out.
I strode away from Lou in anger, already picking up my next few orders from Dottie in an attempt to ignore him. When I returned to where he'd been, I found an empty seat. Mike was still there. He shrugged as I met his eyes. "I think you angered him."
"What's new." I mumbled to myself, refilling his glass and turning away again. My next time back around, Mike was gone too. I guess those drinks are on the house.
I didn't have any other problems that night apart from Lou's wildcard visit. Dottie didn't seem to have noticed my little outburst at Lou atleast. Or she did, and she didn't bring it up while we were cleaning the restaurant and closing up.
The three of us didn't take a seat till all counters were wiped down, dishes were washed and floor was mopped. Because we knew from experience, that we wouldn't be able to stand up once we took a seat.
I finished first. The mopping, the cleaning, the recycling, the trash-everything was done. I groaned out loud as I finally dropped onto the barstool behind the bar. Everything hurt. My legs, my arm, my head, my eyes. The alcohol I'd had earlier was wearing off. I wish I could sleep.
Dottie sighed in relief as she sat down on the across me, on the other side of the bar. "I need sleep." Lucky.
The kitchen door opened a few minutes later and Sasha dragged himself out. He placed a few plates of food on the counter before pulling up a chair and collapsing as well. Considering how early he usually came in everyday, he's crossed twenty-four hours of being awake. Lucky man's going to crash the moment he hits the mattress.
My left arm was numb at the moment. I couldn't feel anything anymore but I could still move it, at the expense of a lot of pain now that the alcohol was no longer masking it. I fixed up some drinks for us as we ate in silence, tired eyes glued to the street as the sun started coming up.
"Ready to exchange gifts yet?" Sasha called out after almost an hour of us just sitting and doing nothing.
Dottie and I mumbled out some form of agreement, handing over our gift wrapped parcels without any ceremony or pomp apart from a mumbled Christmas greeting. We didn't open the gifts, setting them aside for when we got home as we continued to stare out at the street.
Carl turned up shortly after in his usual Christmas tradition. The old man walked through the door- cane in hand, parcels in a bag and a wide smile on his face. "Good morning, kids. Merry Christmas."
We all mustered up some smiles for him. "Hey, Carl. Same to you." I replied, my head resting on my good arm arop the counter as my left arm dangled uselessly by my side. "Had a good night?"
"I should be asking you that." He walked over to a chair, starting to drag it over to us. "I see a full tip jar."
"I hope it's a good haul." Dottie rolled her neck. "I could pay off that sewing machine I bought for Miranda in one go."
My smile widened at that. "I hope she'll like the fabric I bought for her."
Sasha threw me a look of surprise. "Did you copy my gift idea?"
"No." I replied easily. "It was either fabric, or a craft set."
"Same."
Dottie laughed. "Thanks for that. I'm sure she'll love these." She patted the gifts by her. I hope the dress I bought Dottie is the right size.
Carl laughed easily. "Haven't heard about Miranda in a while. How is she?"
I zoned out of that conversation as I looked over Carl's aura. It wasn't a pretty sight. Splotches of black and grey muddying a bright red background. We knew he was sick, but he never gave us the details about it. The last time I'd seen him, I was still human. I couldn't compare auras from back then to now, but I didn't have to. He seemed physically... worse. He's gettin sicker. He might not make it through next year. Makes me feel worse about the news I'm going to dump on him.
"Anyway, here are your gifts." I looked away from his aura, meeting his kind, brown eyes as he held out our gifts. There was a slight tremor in his hand he didn't have before. "Ryleigh."
I smiled as I took it from him. My heart twisting as my fingers wrapped around the parcel. "Thanks, Carl. Been a while since you turned up around here. How's the daughter?"
He waved a hand dismissively before reaching for another gift. "Still going on and on about this old place. I don't listen to her anymore. I would write her out of my will, but I don't have anyone else."
"That's okay." Sasha took his gift. "Children need a legacy. Change is to be expected."
"I guess." He sighed. "Just wish I wouldn't have to see you three go with it." A morbid chuckle shook his frail body. "I probably won't be alive to see it happen anyway."
Dottie frowned, taking her gift and opening her mouth to go on a tirade about how life was previous. I watched her absently, barely focusing on the conversation as I memorised the peaceful setting of this moment. I'd miss them. I'd miss this.
Carl watched us from his seat, giving us small anecdotes about his daughter and his grandchildren as we walked around picking up the chairs and placing them on the tables. He pulled on his coat and gloves, leaning on his cane as he waited at the door to watch us go. I waited for him as he locked up, waving off Sasha and Dottie's exhausted figures before turning back to him.
He continued with his story about one of his grandchildren making him a macaroni painting as I started walking with him in the opposite direction of my building, towards the subway. He seemed happy.
The week leading up to Christmas had been progressively busy. However, it was over. It had peaked in the night, but it would dull down again atleast till New Year's Eve and a few days following that as well. I had no time to myself for a good few weeks. I would have no time to even think about myself between managing my pain and managing the bar. Especially with Lou today. I'd made him angry. I'd have to turn up tonight to open the bar and reap the consequences of it. I can't have him following through on his threat to place the cloak around my bar one of these nights.
I sighed to myself as my gut curled in apprehension. This is it. This was all my life was now. Not angering the demon... not poking the bear. Keeping him supplied with drinks and hopefully riveting conversation so he wouldn't tear me to pieces if his mood was sour one day.
I pressed a hand to the back of my neck, raising my head to look at the blue sky as I stopped at the subway entrance.
"Well, Ryleigh. You've been rather quiet during this walk."
I didn't look down. "Yeah. I've been thinking."
"Is it something you can tell me?"
"Not really, Carl." I paused. "I wish I could. But I can't."
I felt his aura ebb around me as he patted my left shoulder, I stifled a grimace. "Whatever it is, kid... you're young. It will all be okay."
Will it? Will it really be okay ever? I have a knife that stalks me, a demon who's obsessed with bedding me, an angel who enjoys doing human chores and an entire shadow organisation I've pissed off. Probably can't get worse. Oh, and I got shot.
"Carl." I sighed as I dropped my hand, looking down to meet his eyes. My heart twisted again as I met his kind eyes. I'd miss him a lot. I'd miss them all, but I have to do this. This is a decision I need to make now.
"Yes, Ryleigh?" He smiled at me as I didn't say anything. He's going to hate me for doing this.
"I want to quit."
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|______END OF PART 1______|
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
God, that feels good to get done with it's been a while in coming. Would've arrived a lot sooner if I hadn't taken like 14825858 breaks because of a little fucker known as burnout.
Updates for part 2 are going to continue as is. As is meaning, up to the writing god's to bless me with the power of words that day.
But it's currently three AM and I have work in four hours. Now if only I could be like Ryleigh and not have to sleep- that would be grand.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Vote and comment!
See you in part two!