Chapter 1 - The Beginning

Death is countered by the birth of a new life, but the souls that enter the world are never the same as the ones that left it. Nature does not replace what was lost; it only fills the vacuum with something new. But souls are not gone forever. Perhaps after a thousand years of hovering in the darkness through centuries like ashes scattered to the wind, it may find its way back.

     Time is endless, and eternity is not in a hurry.

     When such a soul is born again, destiny begins to repeat itself. The same rage that may consume the body or love that causes them to make stupid decisions. Sometimes, you could blame tragedy for creating a ferocious psychopath but sometimes, it’s just who they are.

Emily knew she looked terrible but she hurried out the door anyway, dragging her jacket over one shoulder while trying to tie her hair back at the same time. She and Giselle had gone out the night before, and she had stupidly convinced herself she could still make it home early enough to sleep before work.

     Technically, she had. Unfortunately, she’d also slept through her alarm.

     Her bicycle laid crooked on the lawn of the courtyard. She lifted it upright and pedaled out of the neighborhood.

     At seventeen, Emily believed she had already mapped out how her life was suppose to unfold: Graduate high school, save enough money to leave town and go to college, find her Prince Charming and live happily ever after. It was simple.

     By the time she reached Velvet, she knew the sweat had made her look worse. She leaned her bike against the wall beside the rear entrance and walked inside.

     “You're late!”

     She jumped, nearly dropping her jacket and the coffee she had bought on her way.

     Daryl stood in the doorway carrying a tray of orange juice glasses. His expression was stern, but amusement flickered in his eyes. Emily still didn’t understand how he managed to look entertained and disappointed at the same time. They were the same age, though Daryl towered over her so badly that he never missed an opportunity to call her ‘short queen.’ Usually she’d just laugh it off.

     “Damn, did you crawl out of a rat hole?” He chuckled.

     “Well,” Emily brushed past him into the kitchen, “maybe if your girlfriend actually showed up to work, I wouldn’t be dying from exhaustion every week.”

     Daryl groaned, rolling his eyes as he followed behind her. “Oh my God. Bianca is not my girlfriend.”

     “You defend her like she pays your rent. Always trying please her.”

     Daryl set the tray onto the counter with a sigh. “I had a crush on her in third grade… that’s it.”

     “And yet somehow you still cover for her to your brother every time she disappears.”

     The corner of Daryl’s lips twitched as he fought back a smirk. For the first time, he didn’t have a come back for her wits.

Orders piled across the kitchen counter while Emily and another staff rushed trays between tables. By noon, her arms had begin to ache and her feet felt numb inside her loafers. She collapsed into a chair near the bar.

     But then, something—better yet—someone was missing today. She hadn’t realized until she looked over the bar and saw Sydney mixing drinks. Normally Edric would’ve been there, helping him survive the crowd. But he wasn’t there or anywhere around the place.

     Edric Williams—the manager, eldest son of Nicholas Williams, and Daryl’s older brother. You could say he was the human version of expensive whiskey. Calm and collected. He was just twenty years old but he loved to dress like he has an interview by nine thirty. Emily had probably never seen him in anything other than a suit.

     The front doors opened. A man and woman stepped inside. The man looked to be in his early forties, silver threaded through the dark hair at his temples. Handsome in a severe sort of way. The woman on the other hand, with her black wavy hair and burgundy backless gown, was stunning enough to turn the heads of men sitted inside. The kind of woman who looked expensive. Actually, both of them did.

     Emily straightened her apron and approached their table.

     “Welcome to Velvet,” she said. “Can I get you started with anything?”

     The woman barely glanced at the menu before she spoke. “We’ll start with oysters and burrata. Ribeye, medium rare. Béarnaise on the side.”

     Emily hesitated. “And drinks?”

     “Any drink is fine,” the woman said dismissively.

     The man simply sat there smiling, like he was walking on sunshine.

     Twenty minutes or later, Emily returned with their order. “Enjoy.” She said and started to leave.

     “What is this?”

     Emily halted, looking down at the table. Genuine confusion etched on her face.

      “You brought us soda?” The lady stared at her in disbelief.

      “Sorry, ma’am . You didn’t specify a drink. It’s our most popular—”

     “You didn’t think to bring wine? A cocktail? Vodka?” The lady interrupted her. “Cheap girl.”

     Blood rushed into Emily’s face.

     The man finally looked up from his phone and ran his gaze down Emily with a stern expression. Emily swallowed hard. She took a deep breath and held her tongue.

     “You are a moron,” the woman said flatly. “Do you know that?”

     That did it. Bringing soda to these sophisticated people was her mistake but she realized the lady was just being mean.

     You’re the moron, you ugly–ass bitch! It burned inside her head and she badly wanted to spit those words out aloud.

     “Eve,” the man said calmly. “Humans are stupid and irrational creatures,” he continued, cutting into his steak without looking away from the woman. “They’re rarely worth the effort.”

     What the hell is wrong with these people? She thought. The man finally looked at her.

     “Is that how employees speak to customers here?” he asked. “Calling them ugly?”

     Emily froze. Her jaw hung in utmost shock. She was deadass sure she had only said that in her mind.

     The man smiled faintly. “Please leave now,” he said. “You’ve already ruined enough of our day.”