Reaper

“Two margaritas, por favor,” a drunk girl slurred, tapping her index finger on the bar in front of me while I watched, irritated.

This girl really didn’t need two more margaritas. I sighed, flipping a curl out of my face and grabbing a bottle from the shelf behind me. “That’ll be 11.50,” I muttered, picking up two glasses and pouring the greenish slush into them. The girl, decked out in a low-cut shirt and a skirt that could hardly be considered clothing, clapped excitedly and shoved some bills at me, not even waiting for change.

I rolled my eyes and put the cash in the register. It was a relatively slow night at work, so Jesse was given the night off, but that didn’t mean there weren’t a few inebriated customers for me to worry about. But it was nothing I couldn’t handle. Once the girl had walked away, I was left alone at the bar with my thoughts.

Sawyer had been to my apartment every night since the attack. I kept expecting that I would come home one night, and he wouldn’t be there, but I was wrong every time. There was a part of me that was made nervous by the idea that he could so easily waltz into my home, my life, with so little repercussions, but the fear I felt in being alone at night was far greater than any that Sawyer sparked in me.

In truth, he should have scared me. Part of me wanted to be scared, to feel rational about the whole situation – Sawyer, for all intents and purposes, wasn’t fully human. And that fact alone should send me running for the hills. I’m not going to say I was completely and totally at ease with it, because I wasn’t. I’d look over in the middle of a sentence and see his eyes tinged with light, and my heart would race with renewed fervor. But then the other part of me was different. This part was lonely, isolated, shoved into a corner of a massive new city. I almost identified with him, just a little – I lived on the verge of fitting in, never quite succeeding. It was refreshing to talk to someone who understood me, who knew where I stood.

I felt myself looking forward more and more to going home.

Mandi and Fitch still had no idea who – or what, for that matter – Sawyer was. Mandi knew there was a guy, and I’m sure she thought it was romantic, but for all she knew, I could have been sleeping with anyone in the city and she’d be no wiser. Fitch had grown increasingly uncomfortable around me, and I let him be, unwilling to start something that could only end badly.

Neither of them, however, could know the truth. I’m sure they would think I was insane, anyway.

I jumped, just a little, when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. To stay I was still slightly paranoid was an understatement. I took it out, hesitant, because I knew Troy would kill me if he saw me on my phone, but if it was important, I had to take it.

Call From: Noah.

I smiled at the small little screen, my chest suddenly lighter. Noah, my older brother, had been on tour in Afganistan with the Marine Corps when I had left for New York. He had known I was leaving, and he had wished me luck, but I worried about him from time to time, hoping with all my heart that he was alright.

“Hello?” I answered, anxious.

“Charlie,” I heard his deep voice respond on the other end. I could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey. I missed you, Red.”

I could practically see him in front of me, with his curly brown hair (from our mother, which I didn’t inherit) and his deep, thoughtful brown eyes (from out father, which I did inherit, only they didn’t quite look as good on me). I smiled against the phone, thankful to actually hear his voice.

“Noah!” I squealed, just a little, making some of the people around me stare in confusion. “I’ve missed you! Why are you calling? Is everything okay? You said you weren’t coming home until Christmas, I thought you had trouble finding a time to call me from over there. How are you? Are you alright?” The words began to fall out of my mouth before I could stop them, my words completely independent from my thoughts.

I heard him laugh on the other end. “Can’t a guy say hello to his little sister once he gets home from war?” I felt my cheeks heat up a little. He sighed. “You’re right, though. Christmas was my next leave, but… something happened.”

My heart skipped two beats as I clutched the phone, petrified. “What do you mean?” I asked after a pause. “What happened?”

I heard shuffling on the other end. “We went on land for some supplies and refueling, and… our convoy was attacked. My buddy stepped on a mine, I went to go rescue him, and, well, I got hit.”

“Oh my god,” I breathed. “Are you alright? Well, obviously you’re somewhat okay, if you can call me, but-“

“I’m fine, Charlie,” he chuckled. “A torn ligament in my shoulder, but nothing some TLC can’t fix.”

“And your friend?”

He paused for a second. “He’s not looking good. Lost both legs.” His tone was solemn, but final. I didn’t ask any more questions.

Quickly, I changed the subject. “Do Mom and Dad know?”

He sighed again. “Not yet. I called you first because they flew me into New York, and I figured you’d be the easiest person to get ahold of. I’d call Mason, but I don’t want to interrupt some important surgery or something.” Mason, our other brother, was a neurosurgeon back in California. He was much, much older, 8 years older than Noah and 11 years older than myself. “I didn’t want to worry them.”

“But you were shot, Noah, I’m sure they’ll understand-“

“Charlie.” His tone made me back down. I bit my lip, knowing full well that he couldn’t see it. “I will call them in the morning, alright? I just got in this afternoon, and I’m still trying to settle in before Mom harasses me about my life choices.” Our mother wasn’t particularly fond of Noah being in the Marines, and she wasn’t shy about telling everyone.

“Alright,” I agreed, putting the phone between my ear and my shoulder so that I could use my hands to pour myself a drink. Troy didn’t normally let us do that, but under the circumstances I felt like it was needed. “I’ll come visit you tomorrow, okay? I’ve got class in the morning, but I’ll head over as soon as I’m done,” I assured him, taking a sip.

“Sounds good, Red.” I heard some more shuffling on his end, no doubt from sheets in the hospital. The thought made me feel a little nauseous – he was the wrong brother to be in the hospital, that was Mason’s thing. “Listen, I have to ask you something. This is going to sound like it’s coming from out of the blue.”

I froze, one hand on my glass. “What is it?”

“Have you noticed anything… usual, lately?” His voice was strange, I couldn’t quite place it. “Anything out of the ordinary?”

I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but it obviously wasn’t about Reapers. But, in all honestly, that was all I could think about for the last few weeks, how absolutely terrified I was of them, and how completely fascinating they were all at once. But Noah couldn’t know anything about them, I told myself. “No, not really,” I mused. “It’s been raining a lot recently, I suppose, for early October-“

“No, Charles, I mean like… Really out there.”

I blew out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “Nothing I can think of.”

After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. “I can practically hear your nose doing the thing.”

“My nose doesn’t do a ‘thing’!”

“Look, just be careful, okay?” The amount of worry and concern in his voice was kind of alarming. “I’ve got to go, it’s almost lights out. But Charlotte, please, please be careful in this city. I know you’ve been here longer than I have, but I can’t explain it. I’ve got a bad feeling here.”

We said our good-byes and hung up. I stood behind the bar, feeling a little numb, as I slid my cell phone back into my pocket. Surely Noah would have no idea about Reapers, right? It wasn’t common knowledge that these creatures ran around like they do. And it was unlikely that Noah knew about the “Jack the Reaper” killer, the story floating around the media to cover up careless Reaper attacks. So what was making him so nervous?

Perhaps it was his accident that was setting him on edge. Surely, after going through something like that, he must be paranoid everywhere he was sent. I was, too, and I’d only been roughed up in an alley, not shipped off to a foreign country and witness to my friend being blown apart. I decided that, yes, that was probably his issue, and the whole Reaper scenario was simply an eerie coincidence.

I eyed the time on the clock next to me, and – judging by the minimal crowd – I ducked out to take a quick break. I called to a waitress to cover for me quickly while I got some fresh air to think about all of this, clear my thoughts.

Once I had stepped outside, everything hit me like a ton of bricks.

Without any warning, the floodgates opened from my eyes. The tears fell rapidly from my eyes before I could stop them, due to shock, fear, god knows what else. I cried for Noah, because he had gone to war in the first place and, while I was glad he was alive, he had been hurt overseas – one of my worst nightmares. I cried because I had been attacked twice now, both by these creatures that shouldn’t exist, but do, and for some reason they find me special. I cried because Sawyer seemed to dig down inside of himself to find some compassion for me, however stoic and withdrawn he acted while I was around. It was more than I could have asked for from a person I’d just met, let alone a creature, a Reaper.

I sat down along the sidewalk, bringing my knees up to my chest. The hot tears flowed down my cheeks as I tried my hardest not to ugly cry in public, though not many people were around to see me. Wrapping my arms around my legs, I dipped my head down, trying to keep my shoulders from shaking too much.

The reality of everything that had happened in the last few weeks had finally caught up with me, and I was a mess for it. I wanted to believe that I was stronger, that I could handle everything on my own, but the honest truth was that I couldn’t. I was only 22 years old, living in a totally new city for a year and suddenly my life had been upended. Everything I knew about the world was suddenly wrong, and I found myself unable to let go of the one I had previously built for myself. In my little bubble, I had been safe. But that bubble no longer existed, popped long ago the minute I stepped foot onto that subway.

I heard footsteps approaching me as I cried. Panicked, I looked up, cursing my bad luck to always end up alone in terrible places at terrible times.

A man stood about twenty feet away from me, his hands in his coat pockets. He was silhouetted against the light from the lamp post behind him, but he had a familiar build, one that had haunted my nightmares for three weeks. It was the reason I asked Sawyer to stay, the reason I was tearing myself apart.

I knew this man.

He took a step forward. “I believe we’ve met before.” His voice was just as deep as I remembered it back in the bar on that first night, a rough baritone that I felt in my chest.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact with his red, scarred eyes, I nodded.

“Such a shame I have to do this, then.”

There was no hit, no slap, no contact. But after he said those words, I passed out cold, unconscious before my slumped-over head hit my knees.