Page 10 of Finders Reapers

“Tragic.” Ponytail replied with the slow cadence of a California girl.

“Who picked her up?” One of the women asked.

“Rome Koslov screwed the pooch on that one.” Space buns snickered, breezing to the counter and opening one of the drawers. “Which one of you bitches tool the last hazelnut K-cup?”

The others ignored her question. “Who died?” Someone asked.

Ponytail waved her hand dismissively. “Some influencer with a rich daddy and cat-ear headphones.”

Oh shit. I had a bad feeling.

Space buns leaned forward and pressed a button. “I used to watch her on YouTube.ValentineXO,” She didn’t turn from the coffee machine.

My stomach began to travel up my throat.

That wasmyusername.

I opened my mouth but slowed it with a snap. What could I say?

I knew I was dead.

I had been told repeatedly during Charon’s weird meta seminar.

But it hadn’t feltreal.

Someone cleared their throat behind me.

I startled and turned.

It was Charon. He gave me a look.

“Come back to my office, please.”

I shuffled after him, and we returned to Charon’s office, his ostentatious swivel chair was occupied by another man in a suit. Someone reed-thin, wearing a suit three sizes too big, and chewing a piece of black licorice like a starved dog.

Charon stepped in front of me. As if he could hide me from view, but it was too late.

I got the feeling that Charon really didn’t want me to meet the man in the chair—if you could call him a man.

“Mr. Bub,” Charon stated flatly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Mr. Bub’s bulbous eyes rolled to focus on me as I passed through the door, and his lips curled into a smile. His teeth were stained black because of the candy.

I glanced at Charon.

Charon ignored my questioning glance. “I have a new Reaper to onboard, Bub. You should leave.” Charon sighed.

“A new Reaper?” Mr. Bub smiled widely, revealing his rotting teeth. “How delightful.”

“One man’s paperwork is another man’s treasure,” Charon stated dryly. “If you wouldn’t mind, Ms. Rossi and I have some forms to go through.”

“Ms. Rossi?” Mr. Bub craned his neck to try and look around Charon. Charon did not move. “I see. Well, I won’t keep you.” Mr. Bub unfolded himself like a spider weaving a web, and made his way to the door.

Charon shuffled us to the side, unwilling to turn his back to the monstrous man. When Mr. Bub passed us and made his way through the door to the main office, a waft of stale fast food and grease filled my nostrils—which was strange because I hadn’t been able to smell a thing since I had woken up in the desert.

My nose wrinkled.

“That’s not a smell; that’s his magic,” Charon informed me lightly, as his eyes trailed after the retreating figure. He continued before I could ask how he knew what I was thinking. “It’s written all over your face. You should really look into hiding your emotions better.”