Page 62 of Finders Reapers

“What do you think about hypnotism?” Fletcher suggested brightly. “It might help find some answers about what happened and what kind of demon killed you.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to help me?”

Fletcher rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t shift. “Can’t I just help out of the goodness of my heart?”

I made the sound of a buzzer. “Err, no. Try again.”

“Things have changed since the Devil took a back seat. Restructuring. People going missing.” Fletcher shared reluctantly. “I think there might be more to your death, that’s all.”

I digested that information. “Does that stuff even work? Who would we find to hypnotize me?” I scoffed.

“Maddox,” Fletcher replied with a grin. “He does it as part of his therapy, sometimes.”

I bolted upright. “No,” I shook my head vehemently. “Nu-uh.”

“Not even if it solves your murder, but stops a demon from going on a killing spree?” Fletcher’s grin dulled.

I pulled my lips to the side. “Fletcher,” I sighed.

He held up his hands in a disarming fashion. “I understand.”

“You do?” I asked. I wasn’t even sureIunderstood.

“Everyone has to go through the stages of grief. Especially if it’s your own death.” Fletcher nodded sagely. “I’ll keep digging. We’ll put hypnotism on the back burner.”

“Great,” I pumped my fist unenthusiastically.

“I’ll speak to Maddy and see if he has any insights.” Fletcher jumped off the bed, his thoughts running out of his mouth. “He’s better at this stuff.”

I held out my hand to stop him. “Fletch—”

“Don’t worry.” He nodded staunchly. “I’ve got this.”

Before I could say another word, Fletcher had left the room, leaving me alone with the muted video of my ex-boyfriend announcing my death to his millions of subscribers on YouTube.

I slept fitfully, with dreams of angel feathers, teeth tearing and running from monstrous beasts I couldn’t see, and understandably, I was unnerved.

I had never been someone to have vivid dreams or even to remember my dreams, but I woke up with my breath wheezing through my lips as if I had run for miles, with sweat dripping down my brows.

I stumbled to the bathroom. My skincare and makeup were still on bags on the vanity. Even though I was foggy with sleep and needed an iced caramel macchiato like I needed air, I pulled out the makeup I had bought and began to methodically apply it.

Going from a natural sun-kissed tan to paler than milk with freckles was jarring. The difference was more visible when I could quantify it with shade names.

I used to be suede, now I was porcelain.

It wasn’t until I was blending my eyeshadow that I began to feel uneasy.

The colors no longer matched my face or my eyes. Purples used to highlight my caramel irises, but now it made me look like my makeup was too heavy.

It took multiple removals and applications before I felt comfortable with my makeup. Choosing an outfit took just as long as I navigated a body with more curves and less height.

Even though Fletcher had been adamant that Maddox could help me, the thought of asking the brusque man for anything set my teeth on edge.

I didn’t know what I had done to piss him off (other than not jump for joy at being dead), but I wanted to stay out of his way.

If it wasn’t for the others, I would have considered asking Charon for a transfer.

Once I was finally ready, and I was certain I couldn’t hide in my room much longer, I made my way to the main communal area.

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