Grave Mistakes (Hellgate Guardians #1)(49)
“Well, regardless of what this house needs or not, you have to have money to do those things, and my account balance has a tight strangle hold on exactly two hundred and thirty-seven dollars right now,” I tell him. “So that would be just enough to cover putting a hole in the wall that offends you, just so long as I never eat again.”
Jerif’s eyes fill with judgment. “You spent your pay that fast? He looks around, feigning even more bewilderment before his stare settles back on me and my ratty clothes. “Where did it go?”
“Pay?” I ask, my judgmental tone matching his. “What pay are you talking about?”
“Uh, your paycheck,” he intones, as if I’m slow to the uptake. “Perdition Estate paid you for the hours you worked. We also threw in the agreed hazard bonus for the attack and for your trip to Hell.”
Eyes widening, I have my phone out of my pocket and my bank app loading in no time. I try to calculate exactly how much a hazard bonus might constitute. If I’m lucky, maybe around eight hundred, give or take? That seems fair. Elated relief surges through me...until my account balance loads.
I stare at the screen, but my head does not comprehend what I’m seeing.
“Well?” Jerif asks impatiently. “Did you get it?”
“It says my balance...I got a deposit of twenty thousand dollars,” I tell him, showing him the screen like my words need evidence to back them up.
His eyes scan the screen with a nod. “Like I said, there was the hazard pay added to your hourly rate.”
Confusion morphs into outrage, and I slam my phone down on the counter at the same time that the microwave beeps at me happily, announcing it’s done a great job of heating up my tea water.
“What the fuck, Jerif? If you assholes think you can buy me off, then you’ve got another thing coming,” I tell him evenly, my tone dripping with anger.
“Excuse me? Buy you off?”
“Twenty thousand dollars,” I yell at him, like that’s all the proof I need of their shady intentions.
“We paid you exactly what the hazard rate was in the contract that you signed. We’re not doing this out of the kindness of our hearts, trust me. It’s what we agreed to as part of the job. Now, you may be unfamiliar with people actually following through on the things they commit to, but that’s how we operate,” Jerif snarls at me.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs. “Exactly what I said. We committed to a certain rate of pay hourly and in the event that something hazardous happened. That’s exactly what we paid you for. Did you read anything that you signed?”
He shakes his head like he’s utterly disappointed in me. I’m not going to lie, it stings.
“You’re so quick to accuse us of tricking you, but if you bothered to read any of the paperwork the hiring agency gave you, you would have known exactly what you agreed to when you accepted the job,” he tells me.
I open my mouth to argue with that and then promptly close it. Missy the receptionist had emailed me something that said copies of new hire paperwork, but I never bothered to open it. And now...twenty thousand damn dollars? With that kind of money, I won’t lose the house. I can pay my bills. I can slip out of the financial noose that’s been wrapped around my neck. Overwhelming relief surges in me, buoying the other emotions that come with it.
“Well...no one ever reads the paperwork,” I lamely defend, but Jerif just rolls his eyes.
“Pay you off,” he scoffs, repeating my earlier words. “We shouldn’t have to pay you off. You accepted a job, and you should see it through. You shouldn’t be paid for not staying true to your word.”
“I never agreed to guard a damn Hellgate,” I grit out. “I agreed to be a boring, human cemetery security guard and nothing more! Maybe you should just outright ask people next time instead of assuming they have time to read one of the dozens of forms shoved under their noses for a signature and then promptly taken to be filed away. This is not my fault,” I say, completely frustrated.
Jerif takes a step toward me, and he suddenly makes my small kitchen feel even tinier. “It’s not about fault, it’s about doing what needs to be done. It’s about things that are more important than our individual wants and needs. You’re being a coward and putting the rest of us at risk because of it. And that doesn’t even scratch the surface of the problems this realm will face if the Gate breaks beyond repair. How does none of that matter to you?” he demands, his face thunderous with blame.
“You can’t put all of that shit on me,” I argue.
“The fuck I can’t. Right now, you’re our best bet to solving this problem. If it were up to me, I’d chain you to the fucking Gate if that’s what needed to be done.”
“Well, good fucking thing it’s not up to you then,” I snap as I walk past him, making a beeline through the living room to the front door.
Jerif stalks after me, like he’s not going to let me get away that easily. I’m so pissed at him that I’m shaking. Yeah, it’s easy for him to pluck out parts of this situation and paint me with a selfish brush, but that’s bullshit. You can’t just say, Surprise, you’re a demon, and now we need all these things from your demony ass, and just expect shit to go your way.
I get that they were willing to sacrifice everything for the Gate. I respect that. But how can they expect me to be willing to do the same thing? I just found out that their world exists, and now I’m supposed to just up and sacrifice my entire future for a cause that just got dropped in my lap?