Page 122 of Finders Reapers

We left our vehicles at the end of the drive, the chain link fence circled the property, and the gate was bolted shut. We could hop the railing (RE: the guys could, and I prayed that I didn’t embarrass myself doing the same), but getting vehicles through would be more difficult. Mainly because the Camaro wasn’t built for off-roading.

The desert was still, and by the time we climbed over the fence and made our way down the drive, the sun continued to dip. I had no desire to be in the desert after dark, but the guys didn’t seem to care. It took a minute for me to remember that I was dead—and hopefully immune to rattlesnake venom.

Fletcher came up to my side as we walked. He looped his arm around mine. “Why is the Grim Reaper so popular?” He asked.

I glanced at him, and it took a moment for me to realize it was the setup of a joke. “I don’t know.”

“Because people are alwaysdying to meet him.” Fletcher nudged me before cackling to himself. “Get it?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

Fletcher nudged me again. “What’s up?”

I shrugged. “I don’t have a good feeling.”

“Same.” Fletcher pushed his free hand through his wavy bangs, catching his fingers on his cat ears.

I had forgotten he was wearing them. They just seemed to fit with Fletcher being Fletcher. “It’s more than that. Somethings up with you.” He frowned.

I opened my mouth and closed it again.

I debated telling him about how displaced I felt. How my body didn’t fit quite right. How my mother hadn’t been the person, I thought she was. That my father had lied to me.

That Mr. Bub was breathing down my neck for information, and I wasn’t powerful enough to stop him rifling through my brain if he wanted to and sucking up every piece of information I had gleaned from the guys.

“Just thinking about what will happen once we prove that Mr. Bub is taking the contracted souls,” I shrugged, offering up something that Fletcher knew and did bother me to some extent, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.

“Apologies.” Fletcher dipped his head. “I’ll try a different joke. Why do people avoid dating demons?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned. “Whydopeople avoid dating demons?”

“Because they’re too possessive.” Fletcher grinned.

I didn’t laugh, though I wanted to.

Jamal came up to our side, his hands in both of his pockets. “Ba-dum-tss.” His voice was monotone.

The closer we got to the house, the more bullet casings littered the ground. A wind chime hung from the porch, but it didn’t make a sound. The screen door was closed, but the door behind it had been left open. A pair of men’s workboots waited by the doormat, covered in red dust.

“Valentina and Fletcher, you wait here.” Maddox had arrived at the house first but didn’t go inside. He flicked a hand over his shoulder. “Rome, go around the back, Jamal. You’re with me.”

Jamal saluted, and Rome rolled his eyes as he sauntered around the side of the ramshackle house with the urgency of a sloth attempting to seduce another sloth.

Maddox and Jamal took the steps and knocked on the edge of the screendoor. No one responded. With a shrug, they let themselves in and disappeared inside.

The sun was so low that the sky was painted an array of colors, and the red sand that stretched as far as the eye could see caught my attention in a way that felt familiar. I squinted, trying to place it.

Unbidden, the image of the giant worms in the red sand—rows and rows of teeth. A hellscape as the air was filled with the sounds of the Drudes dying.

It felt like a memory. Or an echo.

I shook my head to clear it.

Fletcher placed his hand on my shoulder. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, and that’s okay. But I’m here. Not just for a fuck or a fun time. Though I’m up for Dance Dance Revolution whenever. I’m just here. For whatever you need.”

There was something in Fletcher’s voice. Something so sincere and honest that I turned and studied his face. So innocent and young, but ancient behind his chestnut eyes.

Fletcher knew what it was like to suffer. His story wasn’t sunshine and roses with a heroic death at the end or a hilarious coroner’s report. It was piss, shit and cancer. Pain and tragedy.