Page 123 of Finders Reapers

We weren’t the same people we were when we lived. Death had made us new.

I startled when I realized that Fletcher was waiting for me to answer him.

“Thanks, honey,” I whispered.

His cheeks turned pink. His eyes flicked down to my lips. My chest clenched, and my fingers twitched—daring me to reach out and touch him.

I did. I lifted my hand and brushed the pads of my fingers against his wrist. He turned his hand and knitted our fingers together.

Holding hands. It felt so innocent.

Even though I knew Fletcher was anything but.

He didn’t fuck like an innocent man.

“Fletcher, come in here!” Jamal called out. Fletcher stepped forward, his head snapping between me and the house. After a moment of deliberation, he tugged my hand and urged me to go with him.

I understood. He didn’t want to leave me out in the desert. Exposed.

Fletcher hopped the steps so quickly that he almost ripped my shoulder out of the socket as I scrambled to keep up.

We pushed into the house, and the first thing that I saw was the sea of papers on the floor. Each one was covered in scribbles and drawings.

A man laid in the center of the room, rigid, with his arms by his side and his legs snapped together.

“We were too late,” Maddox stated plainly, standing over the body.

“Was it purgers?” I asked.

Maddox shrugged. “He’s got a few marks on his inner arms, but it could be a syringe. No way to tell for sure.”

Rome stepped out of the kitchen, holding what looked like a fabric pouch. “I’m leaning towards drugs.” He stated as he unrolled the bag to expose the needles and vial of liquid inside.

Maddox swore. “I really thought that we’d be able to do something.” He rubbed his shorn head and sighed heavily as he tilted his head to the ceiling. “If he was alive, we could have got him some protection. If he was killed by Purgers, at least we’d have some proof that Mr. Bub is behind this.”

Maddox held his hand out for the capped syringe. He held it up to the light and turned it. The liquid inside was so dark that it swallowed all colors.

“This is Gorge,” Maddox stated. “Maybe we could use this as proof?”

“The drug that Todd was selling?” I asked.

“Gorge is made of demon blood,” Rome said.

One of the papers on the floor caught my eye, and I bent down to pick it up. “This guy had a vivid imagination. Look at these sketches,” I held out once that made in charcoal. Every inch of the paper was black, save for two eyes and shading and the strange sigils. One of Charon and a few basic sketches of beasts that I could only assume were demons.

“He asked the devil for knowledge.” Rome sniffed. “The devil can choose whatever knowledge that he wishes to impart.”

I brandished the dark sketch with the eyes that appeared to glow off the page. “Is this a drude?”

Rome glanced down at the sketch in my hand before snatching it. He didn’t answer the question but folded the paper and shoved it into the pocket of his leather jacket. “Let’s get back to the Gorge. Gorge means that Anderson Reynolds was not as off the grid as we would believe.”

“He was in contact with at least one Purger if he got ahold of gorge.” Fletcher kicked one of the loose papers away from his shoe.

“How many purgers are there?” I asked with a frown.

“Hundreds,” Maddox replied, distracted, as he wrapped up the syringes. “Nothing has been stolen, and the soul is long gone. We should go.”

Everyone nodded in agreement and made their way to the exit. I was last to leave, unable to stop myself from turning at the waist as I reached the bottom of the porch steps—studying the front door with a frown.

---