Page 79 of Finders Reapers

They loved each other more than anything on the planet, and my father had never remarried when mom died when I was ten.

I’d had some abstract concept of death and the afterlife from years of going to mass with my family, but grief had stolen any belief I had left in me back then.

I wondered if she was in hell, going through soul rehab in the form of fire and torture racks, or if she was in heaven drinking pornstar martinis.

Who knew?

I’d never been good at focusing on more than one thing at a time, and my list of attention-stealing thoughts was at an all-time high. I wanted to address my issues but couldn’t because they belonged to my old life.

My father sold my soul. My ex-boyfriend broke my heart and had moved on. My success and career were gone.

All I could do was move forward, but I had no idea how to do that.

Don a black cloak and start reaping souls, eventually earning salvation?

Make friends with Maddox, Rome, Jamal, and Fletcher, who tolerated me out of sufferance? Or because a magical bond told them to?

If the Purgers had been after Maddox, there had to be a reason. Were the guys up to some kind of corporate espionage involving the afterlife?

Or, more concerning, if the Purgers were after me, was it because whoever had killed me wanted to finish the job?

One piece that didn’t fit was Mr. Bub’s visit—because it fit with theory one, Mr. Bub wanted to know what Maddox and the team were up to. Ergo they were neck-deep in something they shouldn’t be in.

But it didn’t fit with theory two, which explained my murder, and the post-death attack.

Fletcher walked through the archway from the kitchen, balancing a plate of bacon in one hand and holding a cup of coffee in the other. He quirked a brow, and I startled out of my daze

“You need some ex-lax?” He asked. “Because either you’re constipated or you have too much going through your mind. Either way, you’ve got to get rid of some shit.”

“Har-har,” I drawled. “Are those for me?” I gestured to the plate of bacon.

Fletcher held out his hands and passed me the plate. The bacon was crisp, and there was toast on the side. He placed my coffee on the table and sat on the edge of the pull-out.

“Maddox said we’ve got to get you up to speed. The basics. Self-defense.” Fletcher told me. “No one is allowed out on assignment alone. We go in twos. We don’t want you to be a liability, so you’ve got to catch up fast.”

My gaze was fixed on my plate. “I thought you were the nice one.”

Fletcher gave me a jaunty grin. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

I chuffed a laugh and lifted a piece of bacon, taking a bite.

“I saw Cody’s announcement on YouTube,” Fletcher told me with a wince, flicking his hair out of his eyes. “Bummer.”

I rolled my eyes. “We can’t exactly keep dating now that I’m dead.”

“You are trending, though.” Fletcher nudged my shoulder.

The word trending used to send a little thrill through me; instead, it just left me numb.

“We’ll train. You’ll do some Reaper 101, then we’ll hit the bar.”

“Reapers sure do drink a lot,” I grumbled, reaching for my coffee.

“It doesn’t really affect us the same way.” Fletcher shrugged, playing with the zip on his hoody. “Have you noticed that you don’t need to eat or drink as much now that you're dead?”

I nodded.

“Yeah. Benefits of being a Reaper.”