Page 19 of Finders Reapers

Maybe it was glued to the floor.

“This isn’t where you sleep, is it?” I frowned.

Fletcher chuckled and shook his head, saying nothing.

Rome stepped forward first. “The Bellagio,” He barked, stepping through the doorframe. He folded into the air and did not arrive at the other side in the split second it should have taken him to walk through.

My eyes widened.

Maddox strode to the doorframe and did the same. Even down to muttering the words ‘The Bellagio,’ before he disappeared.

“Is that some kind of...Floo network?” I gaped, stepping up to the doorframe and holding out my hand. I pulled back my fingers before making contact with the wood and turned to Fletcher.

He shook his head and pushed his floppy brown hair out of his eyes. “Nah. The semantics of demonic travel is peculiar. As much as I can gather, they see space like fabric, and they can rip and tear and sew things back together to get where they need to go.”

“So they’ve made a tear in space and then kept it open with a doorframe, like an open wound?” My voice hitched with panic.

Fletcher shrugged. “I don’t know, but you say where you wanna go, and it gets you there.”

“How do I know this thing isn’t going to tear me into fifty different pieces?” I knew I bordered on shrill. I didn’t care.

“Try fifty billion,” Fletcher muttered.

My eyes almost fell out of my head. “I’m not going through that.”

“You can’t die twice.” Fletcher pointed out. “You have to come back to the Strip with us. You need to learn the ropes before Charon decides that you’re too much hassle, and he blasts you into the cosmos.”

Fletcher barked a laugh but ignored my question. “Let’s go through together.” He held out his hand.

“I don’t want to do this.”

“Come on.” He urged.

I eyed the doorframe as if it would bite me.

That cursed thing could take me anywhere?

It could take me home, NYC, or even India if I wanted.

I placed my hand in Fletcher’s and gave him a saccharine smile, just before I shouted where I really wanted to go a moment before he could do the honors.

I wanted to go to the scene of the crime.

I wanted to see where I died.

“Paris Casino, Las Vegas.”

The world flipped upside down and righted itself, but my stomach did not follow the movement.

I felt sick, and the sensation of being inside a body that did not belong to me was strange, like I was wearing too-tight shoes.

I stumbled through the doors to the lobby, with Fletcher on my heels, his hand still in mine and an amused and sardonic smile quirking his lips.

“Have I been kidnapped?” He drawled.

I didn’t answer.

The moment we were through the doorway and my feet were on solid ground, I let go of his hand as if he had the plague.

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