Page 85 of Finders Reapers

Fletcher rolled his head to the side as if to concede his point.

Once I finished applying my makeup, I shut the door to change my clothes, and I was ready in less than fifteen minutes—which was a record for me. In fact, it was downright unnerving.

We walked towards the door, with Fletcher skipping ahead of us and loudly informing us both about the quality of the wings at the Red Dog. I hadn’t taken into account how astute Jamal was. He spotted my pensive mood in about half a second and stopped me just shy of the door by placing a hand delicately on my shoulder.

“We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.” He told me, his dark chocolate eyes filled with softness that made me want to reach out and give him a giant hug.

“I want to,” I assured him. “It’s just little things that throw me, you know? I used to be almost a foot taller, without heels. I also had a lot more hair. In my old life, I would have taken hours to get ready. The adjustments take some getting used to. I keep reaching up to push my hair out of my face and then freezing because the texture is completely different. Or, I adjust my skirt, and I freak out a little bit because my ass is bigger.”

“It’s a great arse.” Jamal winked.

I rolled my eyes and ignored his comment. “This connection is making me feel things,” I admitted. “I feel like whatever magic created the bond numbed me to the things that I should think are important. Like finding why I was killed by a demon or why my dad sold my soul. Instead, I feel horny, hungry and the thought of stepping more than ten feet from any of the Grim makes me anxious.”

“Death is an adjustment.” Jamal nodded.

“I like you guys,” I lowered my head, so he had to step closer to hear. “I don’t like the idea of a bond making me feel this way.”

Jamal gave me a look. “I’ve had a bond with this Grim since I died in the seventies, and I don’t think I’ve fucked any of them. I think it's safe to say that’s not part of the magic.”

“Not even Fletcher?” I joked, craning my neck to glance at Fletcher, who stood on the sidewalk as he waited for the uber.

Jamal tapped his nose.

“It's not just me?” I asked hopefully.

“It’s not just you, love.” He said. “Come on, our ride is almost here.”

I nodded and made a move to walk down the path to join Fletcher on the sidewalk.

Jamal placed his hand on the crook of my elbow, not hard, but enough to stop the force of my turning as I began to walk away. “Valentina.” He murmured, catching my attention. “You’re a part of this Grim. You’re ours. Whether you want to be or not.”

I turned at the waist but did not commit to facing him. “That’s scary,” I forced a smile on my face. “Do you know what else is scary? If Fletcher doesn’t get his seven different types of wings, I think he’s going to eat his converse.”

Jamal growled under his breath, but he didn’t seem angry at me; he seemed angry at himself. “I’m not good at the whole serious emotional thing.”

“I quite liked the possessive declaration.”

Jamal pressed his tongue against his canine. “Look, I understand why you are struggling with this newness. I do. Your body constantly reminds you that you aren’t the person you were. You’ll get used to it. We all do eventually.”

“How did you look when you died?” I asked.

Jamal shrugged. “I used to be a punk, if you can believe it.”

“A punk?” I asked, confused.

“Sid Vicious, safety pin in the nose, kind of punk.” He clarified. “Late 70’s.”

“I’m trying to work out which one of you has been dead the longest.”

“Richard.” Fletcher hopped back at the path. “Though the big Dick is properly dead. Not just figuratively.”

Jamal rolled his eyes. “Fletcher is the most recent addition,” Jamal informed me. “Maddox beat me out to the oldest Reaper in the band by about 4 years. Then Rome died in the ’90s. Fletcher in the late noughties.”

“Ah,” I nodded in understanding. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for being as senior as Maddox.”

“American military VS British punk rocker?” Jamal said with a smile. “I’d say they give off different impressions of maturity.”

“I didn’t know they had African American punks,” I tapped my lip thoughtfully.

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