Chapter 16: Briar Gets a Job 

Cassie had always been the type to approach life with a steady, reliable attitude. While Briar had her wild, impulsive nature—spending centuries in the underworld had a way of shaping one's lack of care for day-to-day details—Cassie had a grounded, practical sense of things. That was why, after  months of Briar being stuck to her like glue, Cassie had finally convinced her that she needed a job.

"Come on, Briar," Cassie had said with that soft, encouraging tone, as she sat at the kitchen table, looking over the bills. "We both know things are tight right now. We need to chip in a bit more. You can start small. Maybe a part-time job?"

Briar had stared at her, unsure. "I'm a demon, Cassie. I don't exactly know how to 'be human.' Besides, I'm already helping out—distracting you, making your life more... exciting." She shrugged as if it were the most logical response in the world.

But Cassie wasn’t convinced. "We need some extra cash for rent and things. Plus, you should try doing something human. It'll be fun. You could... learn something new!"

And so, reluctantly, Briar had agreed. Cassie had practically dragged her out the door to apply for jobs—jobs that involved actual people and basic human tasks. And it went about as well as one might expect.

Job 1: Barista 

Briar had decided, after roughly twenty minutes of her first shift, that being a barista was an elaborate form of human torture. Her human transformation disguise was only the icing on the cake when it came to her irritation. Why did she have to “look” like “them”...it was humiliating.

Alas, the café smelled amazing—she’d give them that much—but the moment she was thrust behind the counter, wearing a ridiculous green apron and a name tag that read BRIAR (Don’t Ask), she knew she had made a terrible mistake.

“This job is simple,” Cassie had told her with infuriating confidence that morning. “You take the order, you make the drink, you smile at the customer—”

“Pass.”

Cassie had ignored her. “And you try not to scare anyone.”

That part had proven… difficult.

“Uh, ma’am?” a nervous college kid asked, watching in horror as Briar poured espresso shots into a cup with a single-minded focus. “I think my latte was supposed to have, um… milk?”

Briar blinked at the cup. Oh. Right. Milk. Humans liked their coffee weak.

“I knew that,” she muttered, grabbing the steaming pitcher and dumping an unholy amount of foam into the cup. It sloshed over the sides, but she shoved it toward him anyway. “Drink up, nerd.”

The poor guy hesitated before taking it and scurrying away like she might throw hot coffee in his face. Honestly, fair assumption.

By hour three, Briar had learned two things:

1. The espresso machine was evil.
   
   

2. Humans were so picky.
   
   

“Excuse me,” a woman with massive sunglasses and a tiny dog in her purse said, tapping the counter with an acrylic nail. “I asked for half-caff, two pumps sugar-free vanilla, one pump caramel, oat milk, extra foam, 135 degrees, no lid, and with the latte art shaped like a swan.”

Briar stared at her. “You want a what now?”

The woman huffed. “Are you new? Should I speak to a manager?”

At that, Briar grinned, fangs just barely peeking out. “Oh, you definitely should.”

Before the woman could protest, Briar turned to the back room. “HEY, MANAGER DUDE. THIS LADY SAYS HER DRINK IS TOO FANCY FOR ME.”

Cassie, who had begged her to take this job in the first place, popped her head out from behind the espresso grinder and shot Briar a please behave look. “What’s the problem?”

“She wants a drink that requires a blood pact with a coffee god,” Briar said dryly. “Also, I don’t know how to make a swan. Can I do, like… a bat?”

Cassie groaned and took over the order before Briar could drive away another customer.

By the end of her shift, Briar had only started one small fire, poured sugar into a guy’s black coffee because he “gave her attitude,” and, somehow, made more in tips than anyone else.

“Why did you make so much?” Cassie asked, sorting the cash while Briar flopped onto a chair, exhausted.

Briar smirked, despite her aching feet. “Apparently, people love being mildly threatened with caffeine.”

Cassie sighed, but she didn’t disagree.

And, much to Briar’s own horror, she found herself… kind of looking forward to her next shift.

Briar had always known she wasn’t exactly cut out for customer service. But in her defense, she had lasted way longer than anyone expected.

Three whole weeks.

And then, disaster struck.

It started with a simple, innocent mistake.

She had been working the morning rush—an absolute nightmare of impatient humans demanding caffeine at ungodly hours. She was juggling orders, steaming milk, and trying not to accidentally set anything on fire.

And then she grabbed the wrong syrup bottle.

She’d meant to add caramel. She definitely did not mean to add the ghost pepper extract that Cassie had hidden in the back as a prank.

The businessman who took the first sip of his “caramel latte” went purple.

Briar watched in mild horror as he dropped the cup, choked out a garbled scream, and desperately grabbed for someone else’s drink to cool his burning mouth. It only got worse when he flailed and knocked over the entire pastry display.

Glass shattered.

Muffins exploded.

People screamed.

Briar, still holding the offending syrup bottle, blinked at the absolute carnage she had just unleashed.

“Huh,” she said, tilting her head. “Guess that wasn’t caramel.”

That was the exact moment her manager, Kyle—a man who had already been one sarcastic remark away from snapping—stormed out of the back.

“Briar!”

Briar turned slowly, already raising her hands in surrender. “Okay, before you say anything—”

“You’re fired.”

Briar scowled. “Oh, come on, don’t be dramatic. The guy’s fine! Look, he’s—” She turned back to the businessman, who was now shoving an entire croissant into his mouth while someone fanned him with a menu. “…Okay, yeah, he’s mostly fine.”

Kyle massaged his temples. “Get out. Now.”

Cassie, who had been witness to the whole thing, was dying of silent laughter in the corner. But when Briar shot her a glare, she quickly cleared her throat and tried to look sympathetic.

With a defeated sigh, Briar untied her apron, tossed it onto the counter, and threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Whatever. This job sucked anyway.”

She turned on her heel and made for the exit. But just as she pushed open the door, she turned back with a wicked grin.

“Oh, and by the way?” She pointed to the menu board. “Your seasonal drink specials? They suck.”

Kyle threw a dish towel at her head.

Laughing, Briar strutted out of the café, meeting Cassie on the sidewalk a moment later.

Cassie sighed, shaking her head. “I told you not to get yourself fired.”

Briar shrugged. “Eh. It was bound to happen eventually.”

Cassie gave her a look but then, with a smirk, nudged her playfully. “Well, since you’re unemployed now, I guess that means I’ll have to take care of you.”

Briar grinned. “Oh no. Whatever shall I do?”

And with that, she looped her arm around Cassie’s and strolled down the street, jobless but completely unbothered.

Job 2: The Grocery Store

Briar needed a new job.

Apparently, humans needed money to function, and Cassie had gently suggested that she probably shouldn’t be entirely dependent on her. Briar didn’t see the problem—obviously, Cassie liked doting on her—but whatever. Fine.

That’s how she ended up as an overnight stocker at Evermart, the most mind-numbingly boring grocery store in existence.

At first, it seemed simple enough. No customers. No espresso machines to break. Just unloading boxes, putting things on shelves, and not accidentally summoning a hellbeast in the frozen food aisle.

Easy.

Or so she thought.

Mistake #1: Underestimating the pallets.

Briar hadn’t realized just how annoyingly heavy bulk items were. The first time she tried to move a shrink-wrapped tower of canned soup, she put too much force into it and—

CRASH.

Fifty cans of Chicken & Rice: Now with More Rice! exploded across the floor. One somehow bounced off a shelf and knocked over a nearby pyramid of instant mashed potatoes.

Her manager, Jared, appeared out of nowhere, arms crossed. “Briar.”

Briar, standing amid the wreckage, casually kicked a can behind her. “Yes, boss?”

Jared sighed so hard it looked like it physically hurt him. “Please… just be careful.”

Briar flashed him a thumbs-up. “You got it.”

She had nothing under control.

Mistake #2: The Forklift Incident.

Now, technically, she wasn’t supposed to operate heavy machinery.

But technically, nobody had said she couldn’t.

Briar, determined to prove she was a valuable employee, decided to move an entire pallet of soda by herself. She climbed into the forklift, stared at the buttons, and confidently pressed the one that looked the least dangerous.

The forklift lurched forward.

Briar, thrown off balance, grabbed the wheel and yanked—right into a towering endcap of Holiday Edition Eggnog.

The avalanche was instant.

Thick, yellow liquid rained from the heavens, coating the floor, the shelves, and—unfortunately—Jared, who had just stepped around the corner.

Briar, still seated in the forklift, blinked down at her manager.

“…I can explain.”

Jared, dripping with sickly-sweet dairy, silently walked away.

Mistake #3: The Freezer Door Debacle.

It started with a dare.

Jamie, one of the other stockers, had joked that Briar probably couldn’t last more than ten minutes inside the walk-in freezer.

“Please,” Briar scoffed, stepping inside like it was nothing. “I’m literally from Hell. This is a summer vacation.”

Five minutes later, she was screaming.

“LET ME OUT!” she pounded on the door. “THIS IS INHUMANE! HOW DO YOU PEOPLE SURVIVE THIS?! CASSIE, IF YOU LOVE ME, YOU’LL SAVE ME!”

Jamie, outside the door, was crying from laughter.

Jared found her twenty minutes later, curled in a corner, wrapped in an emergency foil blanket.

“I can’t feel my horns,” Briar whimpered.

Jared sighed. “You don’t have horns.”

“I CAN’T FEEL THEM.”

That was the last straw.

Fired. Again.

“Briar,” Jared said the next morning, rubbing his temples, “you are many things.”

She nodded. “Correct.”

“But you are not grocery store material.”

Briar crossed her arms. “Oh, come on. I didn’t even burn the place down!”

“The bar is not that low.”

“…Then maybe it should be.”

Jared looked like he was fighting the urge to throw himself into traffic. “Just—go.”

Briar threw off her name tag dramatically. “FINE. I NEVER WANTED TO WORK IN THIS STUPID, FROZEN HELLHOLE ANYWAY.”

She stormed out of Evermart, slipping slightly on a rogue can of soup on the way.

Cassie, waiting outside, just sighed. “You got fired again, didn’t you?”

Briar scowled. “Retail is rigged against demons.”

Cassie burst out laughing, shaking her head as she pulled Briar into a side hug. “C’mon, disaster girl. Let’s go home.”

And just like that, Briar was once again unemployed.

At this rate, she was never going to survive in the human world.

…But as Cassie squeezed her hand, she figured maybe that wasn’t so bad.