I stroll to the front of the club, an unfamiliar air of confidence clinging to my skin. The sound of my black heels clicking against the pavement is almost as loud and obnoxious as my heart. I flip my hair over my shoulder and shift my golden hoop earrings in anticipation. I strut straight up to the door, swaying my hips and ignoring a long line of waiting people. They're too busy staring to complain. It sounds prideful, but I'm honestly used to it. This is how I take care of Death's jobs, anyways.

I meet the gaze of the doorman, and he wordlessly opens the door for me. That was easy, I think, flashing him a smile. I glimpse a tiny blush creep onto his cheeks before he closes the door behind me. The club's boisterous music pounds in my chest, enveloping me into the atmosphere. I pause, take a deep breath, then begin searching.

I walk calmly to the bar and take a seat, my eyes traveling across the mass of people hanging onto the music. There's no sign of him. He's probably not here yet. I glance down, sliding my phone out of my purse and pressing the screen. It's only seven thirty, and the sun is barely setting. I probably have plenty of time before he gets here.

"Waiting for someone?" The bartender butts into my conversation with myself and wiggles his eyebrows. He's seems handsome and young, but I can't see much of his face from the club's dim lights.

I laugh and narrow my eyes, "Who's asking?"

"Just a man curious about a pretty lady."

"Pretty bold for someone who's just curious."

He shrugs, "What can I say? I'm just smooth like that."'

I laugh again, and he smiles. When I don't respond he asks, "So, pretty lady, what can I get you to drink?"

My shoulders bob in a shrugging motion, bouncing the ends of my hair. "Surprise me." I've never liked alcohol. It's just disgusting to me. Plus, it has no effect on me. Tonight, on the other hand, I have a mission, and I have to seem vulnerable and weak. What better way to do that then to pretend I'm tipsy? I tried offering the idea of not drinking, but it wouldn't be 'convincing enough', so here we are.

The bartender comes back with a glass of light pinkish orange liquid and slides it in front of me. He winks at me and leaves, getting back to work. I stare down at the drink for a moment, purely debating before I bring it to my lips and force down a few gulps. Its strong and it burns as it slides into my stomach, but there is a tinge of a sort of fruity taste that makes it more bearable.

After an hour and a few more drinks, I'm acting tipsier than ever. I laugh obnoxiously and try not to make fun of the boys who attempt to flirt with me. A few bring me out onto the dance floor, but after a while I disappear back to my seat, complaining that I'm dizzy.

Finally, finally, I see a head of dirty blonde hair bounce across the floor. Zach. I turn towards the bartender, who continues sliding another drink to me. I catch it and push it back towards him. "I'm going dancing," I whisper towards him, making my movements dramatic and sloppy. I've seen enough people drunk to know what it looks like.

I take a deep breath then stumble across the floor, subtly moving towards Zach. My heart begins to pound. I'm praying -praying- he doesn't recognize me. I look away from him and start to dance, swaying my hips to the beat. I'm moving ever so slowly towards him, shuffling my feet across the floor, masking the movement as a dance move. Suddenly, a spark travels through my skin, making my hairs stand on end. He's looking at me. I know it. I take my moment. My heel skids for a second, and I slip, running straight into a stone wall. No, not a wall. It's him. His chest. Here we go.

I gasp and spin towards him, giggling, "Sorry, I didn't see you there." My words slur together ever so slightly, and his eyebrows climb, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"Don't worry about it," his deep voice echoes in my ear and my cheeks heat up. He steps back does a once-over, his eyes lingering on my lips, and I know I've caught him. A mischievous smile stretches across his face. "You want to go have a drink with me?" His electric blue eyes seem to pierce through my blockade of emotions, but I know he doesn't recognize me.

"I've already had so many drinks with that nice guy over there," I jab my finger at the bartender who's helping some guys get more drinks.

"Oh, really?" His gaze follows the direction of mine and his grin widens.

"Mhmm, he's got a niiiice face."

He turns back towards me and leans in as if he's about to tell me a secret, "Right, right. Well, I have my own private bar if you'd prefer that."

I widen my eyes, feigning surprise. I lean in and whisper back, "I think I'd prefer that." Then burst into a fit of giggles.

If I could choose to die at any moment, I think, it would be now. Zach leads me into a backroom, and I try not to gag when he winks at me. I play along, clutching my purse to my side. Just a little bit further. I try to give myself a motivational pep talk but Zach's hand around mine makes my stomach flip in an uncertain way. He turns around and closes the door, muffling the loud music. I force another giggle when he turns towards me, and lean towards him. He leads me across a carpet and sits on a couch, gesturing for me to sit next to him. Instead, I lean over him, draw him close... and jab a taser into his side. Startled, he yelps out in pain, and collapses onto the couch.

"Don't even think about touching me," I declare, stepping back. Suddenly, a second back door bursts open, and Rev and Kianna rush in. Zach swears under his breath, unable to move. I flip my hair, "and keep your language clean please." He glares at me, and suddenly I understand the phrase "if looks could kill." Oh, they can. Zach's icy gaze could stop anyone's heart on command. But I was too prideful to let him crush me. Hah, pride. That's ironic.

"Alright, let's get down to business," Rev cracks his knuckles and grabs Zach by the collar, lifting his limp body up a few inches. "We know you've been talking to mortals about our work. And you know that's against the rules."

"I haven't done anything," Zach's voice is light and amused, but I can tell he's piecing together the clues. A sudden pain jolts through my head and my mouth opens in an inaudible gasp. I reach up, clutching my head, but the only one who notices is Zach. I try to brush it off, but it's too late. He's seen me. I avert my eyes, staring at my feet instead.

"Oh really? Then where have you been for the last little while, buddy?" Rev continues with his interrogation, and I feel Zach's attention being pulled away from me.

"I've been doing my own work."

"Work that includes exploiting us to mortals?"

"Of course not."

"And what makes you think we'll believe you?"

He turns towards me, and stares at me pointedly until the whole room is also staring at me. I uncomfortably squirm under their gaze. "Because I know what's happening to her," He nods at me, refusing to even say my name.

Silence fills the room and Rev tenses, releasing Zach. "What... what do you mean?"

Zach smiles at him, "You know exactly what I mean." He turns towards me, a calculating look in his eyes, "I've spoken with Death twice in the last few months. Learned a few things." I gasp and meet his determined gaze.

"What are you talking about?" I say, my voice almost a whisper, "No one can see him."

"You really think that?" He challenges.

He knows. He knows I've spoken with Death.