Regent

XIV

There was a chance that Eve could have put off this meeting for the rest of her life. Why not? She had put it off for years. Something about the blur of red and clamor of loyalty from the night before had brought her back to her favorite part of nights like that. Eve clutched her cell phone in one hand—almost tight enough to snap it in two if it had been one of her old burner phones. She didn't have pockets. Quintilianus had always found ways to add pockets to gowns. The discount rack in an overrated department store was a different story. Eve had thrown on a random dress that morning because matching two different articles of clothing together required too much effort; in hindsight, she had no clue what her half awake self was doing. Of all the dresses to throw on, it had to be that one.

Eve climbed the stairs up to the penthouse apartment where the team had relocated. It was just like them to all stick together like this. They had always been the elite of the elite, and now they were just that without anyone to stop them. She paused outside their new front door. Strange how some things worked out so perfectly. Eve was about to knock when the door was thrown open; she was defenseless against being hugged with such enthusiasm that she was lifted off her feet.

After a moment, Garren put her down. Everything had changed. He was bigger than she remembered, taller, stronger, more muscular—no longer that half-starved street kid. He had also shaved his head in favor of even more tattoos across the back of his neck and his scalp. If he hadn't been wearing long sleeves, she would have seen his completed sleeves across both arms.

"You actually came!"

Eve found herself smiling, "I guess I couldn't stay gone forever. Lest I try."

"Come on in. You are not going to believe this, but-" Garren's announcement was interrupted by a voice calling to him from the other room.

"Are you ready to helplessly watch me kick your ass again or have you had enough?"

Garren followed the voice to the main room where Noor was waiting for him with video game controller in hand, ready to make her winning streak stretch on forever. On that particular day, she wore a pair of green froggy pajama pants—identical to the pair Garren occasionally wore to jobs and official business when he was unmotivated to put on real clothes—and a long sleeved band shirt with her niqab. Her nails, all except for her pinkies, were still painted red to match her outfit from her show the night before.

"You must be Loose," Noor greeted her. "I'm Noor."

"She is my girlfriend," Garren whispered as if he could still barely believe it himself.

"How did you two meet?" Eve asked. As far as she knew, Garren didn't date on principle—something about how the people he loved tended to die around him.

"I kinda got arrested, again," he began to explain.

She cut in, "I used to be a sketch artist for the police department. He was wanted in connection with a mugging—you know, if stringing up the mugger like a pinata and treating him as such counts as a connection. The woman described him to me, and the next day I saw him walking through the courtyard at my art school."

"She then followed me and pepper sprayed me, and hauled my ass to the station," Garren finished.

"It was a lot more romantic than it sounds," Noor assured her.

"It was thrillingly romantic," Garren agreed.

Eve had to smile because that sounded just like Garren. She had endless admiration for Sien and Noor, and the others who somehow managed to put up with the team's homicidal tendencies. Part of her wondered if—and could guess as much—the significant others had formed a breakfast club to talk about their ridiculous homicidal dates.