Page 59 of Finders Reapers

It looked like an innocent manila folder, lighter than I would have expected as well. I pulled it open like a child unwrapping a present on Christmas morning, only to be greeted by the photos of my dead, lifeless eyes, my mottled torso marred with a big Y incision, and evidence that my breast implants had been removed post mortem.

Any hunger I had felt drained away.

I swallowed bile.

The writing was small, perfectly compact in little boxes like a boilerplate form. Name. Date of birth. Blood type. Boxes for the cause of death, time of death, next of kin.

“There’s no cause of death,” I frowned, flicking to the next page.

“Yeah,” Fletcher said, his mouth full. “Your body had been pumped full of a toxin that looks chemically similar to many sedatives. It’s what killed you. You might have been alive in the pool, but the second you hit the water, your body was paralyzed. They didn’t find water in your lungs because you wouldn’t have been able to breathe. That news article about you being murdered was right.”

I traced the long chemical names with my fingernail. “I was drugged?”

Fletcher shook his head. “I said itlookedlike a sedative.” He corrected, flicking his hair out of his eyes. “Look at the pictures of your legs on page two.”

I turned back and was greeted by a close-up of a limb. It didn’t even look like a leg because of how close the photo was. The skin was dotted with hair follicles. Though my legs had been shaved, the pores were still visible. There were puckered holes in the middle of the photo that looked like they could have been made by a drill. I imagined they were much smaller in person, but the camera's macro lens made them seem like bloody craters in my once-tanned flesh.

“Ew,” I Grimaced.

Fletcher grabbed some garlic bread and tore off a piece with his teeth.

Jamal inched closer and craned his head so he could see the image over my shoulder. “Oh, fuck.” He whispered.

“Are they needle marks?” I asked, turning my head. I was close enough to see the line between Jamal’s pupil and iris in his espresso eyes.

“Bite marks.” Jamal’s attention was on the photo in my file. Laser point focus. He reached down and took the folder in his hand.

“Do you think it was a snake or something?” I shifted awkwardly.

“Demon bite,” Fletcher said after swallowing his mouthful of food. “Not sure what type. Something with sharp enough fangs that they didn’t tear the flesh. Or someone powerful enough to shift form.”

“A demon?” I spluttered.

Both of the men ignored me.

“What kind of Demon would hunt so openly?” Jamal flipped the file closed and tossed it across the sectional. “Different demon salivas can have different properties. If it was a Leviathan, it would have killed you stone dead in seconds, but this venom acted as a date rape drug.”

“Are you sure it looks like a demon bite?” I lifted my thumb to my mouth and picked at the skin before I realized what I was doing. “There weren’t any demons at my party.”

“You probably wouldn’t have known even if there were.” Fletcher gestured with his fork. “If a demon is powerful enough to make it to the human realities, they are powerful enough to shapeshift.”

I frowned. “It is hard to imagine a demon doing something like this. I mean, look at Oriax. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Or Charon, he’s like a grumpy uncle.”

Jamal gave me a look. “Charon isn’t a demon.”

“Not all demons are good,” Fletcher said with a full mouth. “There are too many types to generalize like that.”

“Maybe it was a Shax demon—" Jamal tapped his lip.

I reached for my plate and jammed some pasta in my mouth as I sat back to listen to them both debate what kind of demon, with what kind of teeth, would have bitten me and why.

I blinked and shook my head to clear it. Sensing a lull in the conversation, I cleared my throat. “What made you look into this?” I asked, turning to Fletcher. “The news report said it was needle spiking.”

Fletcher shrugged as he dished himself another portion of lasagne. “You’re not the only victim. They found another one yesterday.”

Too tired to continue the conversation, I excused myself and went to bed even though it wasn’t even eight in the evening.

There was a TV in my room, which had Netflix, Prime, Hulu, and every other streaming service I could imagine.

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