Page 98 of Finders Reapers

Maddox shook his head. “There’s no way of knowing, but there are at least a thousand contracted living in the Vegas area.”

“Athousand?”

“Sin City.” Maddox shrugged.

I rolled my eyes.

“Come on.” Maddox tilted his head to gesture to the car door. “Finding out why your father sold your soul to the devil might not help find the other rogue contracted souls, but it might helpyouget some closure.”

“That sounds like such a therapist thing to say,” I grumbled.

“I might be a therapist, but I’m not your therapist.” He reminded me. “You should ask Oriax to set you up with one.”

“Why won’t you be my therapist?” I asked.

“It would be unethical. For so many reasons.” He said, opening his door and leaving the car without explaining what he meant.

We’d parked at the end of the cul de sac and walked the length until we reached my father’s house at the bend.

I didn’t ask Maddox why he parked so far away—it seemed that he had his reasons for doing things, even if I wasn’t privy to them.

The last time I had visited, I had watched my father putter about the open garage and tinker with his car. The universe had stopped me cold.You shall not pass!

The garage was closed as we walked up the path. The slabs were damp from the sprinklers—even though the city was on a drought warning.

My father. Always thinking about the greater good. /s.

Maddox took the lead. Knocking on the front door and glaring at the security camera that roved to face us.

My heartbeat roared against my chest, and my stomach was bouncing up and down.

Part of me wanted to knowwhy. Why my father had sacrificed my afterlife, and why he was so sure that my mother was going to hell.

Why was I in this mess at all?

It took over a minute for someone to answer the door, but it felt like the longest minute of my life. I recognized the woman on the other side of the glass door. Her grey uniform from the maid's service and her thick hair tied back into a bun. Rosa, my father’s housekeeper.

Rosa had been around since my mother got sick and couldn’t take care of the house anymore. She always greeted me with a hug and the offer of Aperas—corn cakes with cheese. The recipe had belonged to her grandmother in Columbia, and Rose refused to share it. Which was a running joke between us. Her hair was streaked with more silver than I remembered, and the corners of her eyes were wrinkled, even though she wasn’t smiling.

Rosa greeted us with a nod. “Hello?”

My stomach clenched.

“We’re here to see Mr. Rossi. We’re from Quietus on business.” Maddox smiled benignly.

I had never had such a visceral reminder that I was a different person, that I was dead than at that moment.

Rosa turned her gaze to mine, and there was no recognition there. Just calm, cool, aloof.

As if Maddox knew precisely what I was thinking, he reached back and clasped my hand as his head cocked to the side, and he smiled expectantly at Rosa. He gave my hand a single squeeze before he let go.

She nodded stiffly before stepping to the side so we could enter the house.

It was the same as I remembered, though the last time I had visited when alive had only been a month before. My father had gotten back from a convention in Barbados, and we’d had dinner.

The air smelt different. Stale and musty, even though everything was clean and dust-free.

Rosa instructed that we stand at the bottom of the expansive staircase in the center of the foyer.

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