Page 24 of Finders Reapers

“He’s a Demon.” He repeated.

“What about Elon Musk?”

“Nah. Just weird.”

I exhaled slowly and stepped further into the room. The scent of pizza assaulted my senses, and I knew it would take some getting used to now that I could feel, touch and taste again. Even though I had been dead less than a day, I was relearning an entirely different body.

An open pizza box rested on the mahogany table, missing several slices.

SNL blasted out of the television in the next room, the sound of Pete Davidson’s drawl comforting, even though I was on edge and ready to leave.

Fletcher dove for the pizza and lifted a slice until the cheese dangled over his mouth, and he wound the stray cheese onto his tongue before taking a massive bite. He grabbed another slice, held it in his free hand, and strode out of the games room to the sectional.

Apart from Fletcher, there were three men in the living room. The only thing visible was the backs of their heads.

I recognized Maddox’s shorn head first, with a scar sitting behind his ear that I hadn’t noticed before. An ugly red line on the crease where his skull met his ear.

Rome sat on the edge of the sectional, ignoring his plate of pizza, as he reclined into a bed of cushions. His thumbs roved over the screen of his iPhone at top speed, and I assumed he was texting. His hair was just as dark and unruly, but his sunglasses had been discarded on the cushions, and it was only a matter of time before they got broken.

Fletcher raced forward and hopped the back of the couch like an Olympic hurdler before bouncing into a comfortable position.

That left one person that I had yet to be introduced to.

I cleared my throat, but no one paid me any mind. Celebrity guests and skits were much more critical than showing the new girl around, obviously.

I placed my hand on my hip and debated how judgy everyone would get if I just broke into the bar and made myself a mojito. Based on their lack of attention, they probably wouldn’t give a fuck.

I didn’t feel hunger—not the way I was used to. It wasn’t a gnawing sensation or a craving, but the smell of the hot bready pizza stirred some desire inside of me.

Even with my new body, I didn’t feel human. Not in the way I had become accustomed to in my twenty-one years on earth.

Fuck it,I decided, as I turned on my heel and marched back to the game room. I grabbed the last slice of pizza and sunk down onto one of the bar stools, stuffing my mouth full until I resembled a chipmunk.

The mirror over the bar reflected my new grey stormy eyes back at me—no longer the same dark chocolate as my father’s.

How many times had I thought of my father today? I wondered.

What was worth so much to him that he’d trade the soul of his only daughter? Was his deal with the devil why his dental supply business was so successful?

I had more questions than answers—but it all seemed so minute. So unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

Demons existed. The devil existed.Godexisted.

My Nonna must have clutched her rosary and done the worm in celebration when she arrived at the pearly gates and found out that the bible was right.

I chewed slowly; the taste of the pizza was something foreign even though I ate pizza almost every week. I could taste every ingredient as if they were separate. It was like a supernova.

I placed my hand to my mouth as my eyelids fluttered, and I moaned.

Food was a religious experience now that I was dead.

A chuckle broke me through my orgasmic fog, and my eyes snapped to the source of the sound. The fourth guy from the sectional, the proverbial stranger amongst the other strange Reapers.

His dark skin looked more copper than brown, with sharp features and a wide nose. A stylish fade cut into his hair. His smile was the whitest I had ever seen, and my old body had over 50k worth of dental veneers. His lips were plush pillows, the color of ripe cherries.

His eyes were a rich chestnut, lightened by the sunlight filtering through the expansive windows, with a melanin spot next to his right iris that was as dark as his skin.

His eyes flicked to my lips. “Good pizza?” He sounded like he was holding back a laugh—judging by the glittering mirth in his eyes, he smiled a lot. I liked that.

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