Page 43 of Death Wish

“Three hundred BCE texts or first century AD?” Sean asked.

For someone who hated his father’s involvement in the magical, Sean sure knew a lot. I guess after growing up with it around for so long, it wasn’t too surprising.

“Three hundred BCE. And they are scrolls, not texts. There is a difference.”

Sean snorted. Semantics he obviously didn’t care about.

Sean turned back to staring at my chest and studying the tattoo. “I can see what you’re saying about the rebirth symbol, but there’s something else, though. I’ve seen this symbol before just like this. As it is. I know I have.”

Wyatt squinted as he focused on the tattoo. He hovered his finger over my skin without touching and outlined the more complex part of the tattoo, near the middle. Even though he didn’t touch me, I could have sworn my skin tingled around the thing. I shivered, disturbed by the feeling.

“I don’t know, Sean,” Wyatt said. “I don’t think I’ve seen it before, and I’ve seen everything.”

“What does it matter?” I said, placing my palm over it. I was growing tired of all these men staring at my goods. It was uncomfortable. “I’m sure it was just something I did before I died. Maybe there was a discount off tattoos at the shop I had gone to or something.”

“You don’t remember?” Sean asked, surprised.

I shook my head. “I don’t remember anything from before my death.”

Sean hesitated, looking suddenly sad. “Is it like that for everyone that passes?”

Was he thinking of someone in particular? From the sorrow clinging to his gaze, it seemed that way. I knew that look well enough to recognize it. Sean had lost someone he loved dearly.

Hopefully I could reassure him a little.

“No, just me,” I replied. “Well, just reapers really. We have our memory stripped. It makes our jobs easier.”

Relief washed over his face instantly. “That makes sense.” Then he gave me a shy smile. “A reaper, huh? That’s probably one of the few supernaturals Pop doesn’t have many books on. How would you feel about us picking your brain? I would like to find out more about the afterlife.”

“It’s not all peaches and cream. Believe me.”

“Oh, really?” Concern passed over his expression again.

“Not like that. It’s mostly because it’s boring.” I sighed. “Like when people retire… Things get repetitive. No excitement because there’s no challenge. Everything is blissfully mediocre. Most people like it, but me? Not so much. Even with my job, things get monotonous.”

“Ah…” Sean rubbed his chin again. “I’d love to hear more. Maybe we—”

“I hate to interrupt,” Cole threw in. “But if Jade’s friend is really pregnant by Xaver, then we are on a deadline, and I’m still stuck in this trap. Can someone let me out of this thing, please?”

Wyatt and Sean exchanged looks. They didn’t know if they could trust him, and honestly, I wasn’t sure either. I’d only known the guy for a day, and I was finding out more things every minute. I couldn’t even vouch for him.

“Guys, it’s me. I’ve known you for years,” Cole said, seeming to grow desperate. “Come on, Jade. Back me up here.”

I shrugged. “I think you’re handling it well enough.”

His gaze narrowed on me. “Okay, I get it. You’re mad at me, too. I deserve that.”

Damn skippy.

“I owe you an explanation, too—”

“Wait...” Sean said suddenly, his eyes widening with recognition. “I know where I’ve seen your tattoo before!” He rushed out of the room in the next second, leaving us all in stunned silence.

Wyatt went to the hallway and shouted after him, “What are you doing? You know not to go in there! Sean! Not your mother’s room!”

Mother’s room. So, Wyatt was married. I couldn’t imagine any woman who would be okay living in this clutter and dust, but there was someone for everyone, wasn’t there? A lid for every pot? And Wyatt was a special pot of strange.

Then came my next question—where was Sean’s mother? She must have been out for the day if she hadn’t come out during the Halfling attack. That was lucky.

---