Page 87 of Finders Reapers

“What changed?” I asked.

Jamal held out his palms, illustrating that he had no answer to my question. “No idea, but we’ve been checked out the purgers that we know live in the Human Realities. We’re fairly sure they are innocent. The only thing that each of these people has in common is that Purger’s killed them, or something that can take a purger's form.”

“Which could be any powerful demon. Because they can shapeshift,” I pressed my palm against my forehead. “My head hurts.”

Fletcher nudged my drink closer to my hand. “Drink. It helps.”

My brow raised, but I said nothing and took a sip of my mojito instead. I had to admit, it did help a little. Maybe because it gave me something to do with my hands.

“You’re investigating Mr. Bub, aren’t you?” I asked plainly, once I had placed my glass back on the table.

“Two of the oldest Reapers in Las Vegas ‘moved on’ this year.” Jamal shrugged. “Maddox doesn’t think it’s a coincidence.”

“Why Vegas, though?” I wondered, pushing a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“No idea,” Fletcher said, his eyes brightening as a server pushed out of the kitchen with a basket of wings in her hands. Fletcher put his hand up and waved it from side to side. “Those are mine!” He called out.

“They might not be his,” I gave Jamal the side-eye. “Does he always act like this?”

“Fletcher is Fletcher.” Jamal bit back a smile.

“True,” I agreed.

I finished my drink quickly as Fletcher demolished his wings.

Once we’d polished off another round, the familiar sound of another dance track caught my attention. My eyes widened.

“They have Dance-Dance-Revolution here?” I said in awe. “Oh my god. That’s one of my favorite games,” I smiled so widely that I thought it would split my face.

“You went viral playing that Beatsaber game, right?” Fletcher perked up as he finished his second beer. “I saw some of your Tiktoks; they were funny as hell.”

My smile notched even higher if such a thing were possible. “You watched my videos?”

Fletcher nodded and matched my smile. “Yeah. They were good. You were always on my FYP page. You wanna go and play DDR?”

I turned to Jamal. “Is that okay? You won’t mind waiting?”

Jamal held his hands out in a disarming fashion. “Go ahead, love. I’ll get another round in.”

I hopped up so fast that it took less than a second for the alcohol to race to my head and back to my feet again. I reached down and grabbed Fletcher’s hand, pulling him off the stool. When his hand connected with mine, I felt a rush similar to the alcohol. An awareness, like numb fingers and a swirling stomach full of butterflies. Again, I chalked it up to the butterflies. That damn Grim bond was going to be the death of me.

Fletcher and I raced towards the arcade corner of the bar. The paisley carpet was illuminated by the flashing pink and blue lights.

“How old is this machine?” I laughed as Fletcher fished some cash from his pocket.

He shook his head, still smiling. “I have no clue.”

We both hopped onto the platform, and the two avatars glowed on the screen. I’d somehow picked the guy, and Fletcher had picked the girl, but that didn’t matter.

We choseButterfly, and one of the people at the edge of the bar where the arcade spilled onto the seating area, groaned loudly and turned away from the flashing lights.

Butterfly was one of my favorite songs on DDR. I’d grown up playing it but had only made a few videos with the game as a gimmick last year when it had been suggested in the comments over and over.

It took a few moments to get used to my center of gravity changing, but the steps were familiar. I couldn’t contain my joy as I hopped around the platform and watched the other side of the screen as Fletcher’s arrows turned red with every step he missed.

“You suck at this!” I called out over the music.

“Hater!” Fletcher stuck his tongue out and wrinkled his nose.

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