Eva

  "I'm not an idiot, you know." Eva used her straw to stir the ice in her glass absentmindedly. She was looking out the window of the booth she’d chosen for them to sit in.

  The waitress had finally brought them their plates and left them alone to dine, something Eva still wasn't convinced wasn't an obvious ploy sent up by her parents. First lunch and now dinner?

  She looked at the man sitting in front of her. He'd been speaking about something that her inner monolog prevented her from focusing on. He seemed confused by her interruption.

  "Hmm?" Monroe gave her his attention while still breaking his chopsticks in half. He rubbed the two pieces together, smoothing out any wooden splinters that may have occurred from the split. She repeated her statement and his brows knit with confusion. "No one said you were."

  Her mouth flattened into a hard line of annoyance. "They act like I don't know they're trying to set me up on dates."

  One of Monroe's thick brows arched while he stopped his messy slurping of his noodles for a moment, before using his chopsticks to force the remainder into his mouth.

  "I'm sorry, who said this was a date?" He looked around at the other people in the ramen bar, who were focused on their own conversations and meals. "You seem to be the only one bringing up that word. Lunch date; dinner date."

  She tried to interrupt him but he continued, talking over her “buts”.

  "Trust me." He sat his chopsticks down and began removing his jacket. "If I was going to take a beautiful woman, such as yourself, on a date then you'd know it."

  She watched as he rolled one sleeve and then the other up to the crook of his elbows, revealing black tribal tattoos covering his forearms.

  When he reached for his glass, she couldn't help but notice the one warped tattoo on the inside of his right arm. It looked like something had taken a chunk out of him and he was trying, unsuccessfully, to cover it.

  Bringing the glass to his lips, she saw a small smile there, and immediately, she averted her gaze with an apology. She was being rude. She hated when people stared at her imperfections, something she had also noticed he'd yet to do. Or rather, she hadn't caught him doing, like he'd just done with her.

  "No, it's fine." His smile never faltered, even after he'd sat his glass down and took his next bite. "I get it, it looks gnarly. But it looks worse than it felt."

  Again, she apologized for staring, placing a hand on her heart in hopes of appearing as sincere as she felt. "It's rude. You don't have to–"

  "No, seriously.” He chuckled with a wave of his hand to dismiss her apology. "This one, I'm actually proud of. Sort of. It wasn't my first battle wound but it was my first encounter with a Pryopex. I'm sure you've been told they run in packs."

  She nodded, though she didn't want to think back to her encounter with the beast.

  "My troop was hunting — more like investigating something unrelated, really — we had no idea their den was even there. So close. We were unprepared. I fared better than others. But we lost… a few Reapers that day. My sister included."

  While he'd been talking, he hadn't looked at Eva. He more so kept his gaze on his plate while he twirled the noodles within their broth, and an ache settled in her stomach.

  She was compelled to reach her hand out and hold his. The one that rested on the table, not the one that gripped the two frail pieces of wood so tightly she thought they'd snap in half.

  His grip eased with her compassionate apology and he shook his head in either another dismissal or to maybe refocus himself.

  "These things happen." She could tell he meant his words, but more so the ones that followed. "It made me train harder. Her death made me want to fight harder for others. I grew in rank, became a Reaper, and with every Nether scum I take down I know I'm fulfilling my purpose."

  A confused expression settled on her face and she couldn't stop herself from asking her next question. "Do you wish you weren't?"

  When he didn't seem to understand her question, she elaborated, and asked if he ever wished he wasn't a Reaper. Or a part of The Society. That he was something normal.

  He shook his head, but his confused expression never wavered. "It's the only thing I know how to do. What would I be if I were… normal? An accountant?"

  She shrugged at that. "I don't know. But fighting battles that aren't yours? It seems militant."

  Eva never really liked the idea of people fighting in wars that seemed to have nothing to do with them. Tiny men in big spaces making problems for their counties — she suddenly wondered if their military had any idea of the reality of the world. If there were Keeper’s and Reaper's within their ranks, purposefully or secretly.

  "You're wrong," he said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "These battles ours. Yes, do I clean up after others? But I'm a soldier first. A protector.”

  She felt the corners of her mouth lift in a small smile, but not for his brainwashed mentality. He fancied himself a hero; he had the battle scars to prove it. He was trying to prove himself and she could understand that.

  Realizing her chicken katsu was getting cold, she released his hand and fetched her fork. She watched him watch her take a bite and, for the first time, saw his gaze finally drop to her neck when her hair shifted.

  When he saw her shift uncomfortably, he apologized and averted his gaze back to his plate until she told him it was fine.

  "You told me your traumatic scar story. I guess I can tell you mine."

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  He put up a hand to stop her. "No, really. You don't have to relive that. Your parents already explained anyway."

  She wasn't surprised or angry they'd told him. If they were trying to set them up, it was only natural to warn the husband about his future Frankenstein bride.

  She repeated her self-deprecating joke, but he didn't find the humor in it.

  "Even if they hadn't explained, it's common knowledge."

  Her eyes widened with his statement and he realized she thought he meant her body deformity.

  "No, I mean the fire." Once he clarified, her heart calmed and the insecurity of people judging or talking about her behind her back eased. "That was rule number one within our society. No fraternizing with the demons. Your parents learned the hard way why that rule is in place. Doesn't matter how intelligent or nice they seem. They are cruel monsters who can't be trusted. The elders think maybe the fire was set by someone looking for Lilith. But there was never really any proof. I'm surprised your parents weren't reprimanded more harshly. They should have been."

  Eva's eyes narrowed at the statement, at the judgment, and he tried to explain his point further.

  "There are rules in place for a reason. And consequences" – he waved his hand towards her – "are inevitable when you break the rules."

  "If demons are so bad, then why did–"

  "Why did Dante save you that night?" He finished her question as if it weren't the first time he'd heard it before shaking his head with a shrug. "There's no recorded answer for that. After that night he went MIA for years. Maybe he fights his demon half, maybe he owes your parents a debt."

  Again, a shrug from him along with a disgusted expression. "But if there were ever any question of why it wasn't obvious humans and demons shouldn't coexist, there's Dante. Living proof. Probably the very reason for the rule. Him and his barbaric father."

  Before Eva could ask for an explanation, their waitress came over to check on them and his demeanor completely changed when he thanked the woman politely. As he finished his food, Eva picked at her plate. She couldn't help the quietness that took over her while she pushed the food around.

  With the upsetting way he spoke about Dante, she'd lost whatever appetite she'd had and asked for a box.

  He'd been talking about another charge he'd once had to protect from a demon bounty and her interrupted request seemed to shock him. She hadn’t meant to be abrupt, but surely he could tell she'd been lost in her own thoughts and not focusing on his story.

  He didn't seem angered with the interruption, thank goodness, and complied with her requests when she tried to save face and lied about not feeling well. He flagged the waitress down, asking for the check which she brought to him swiftly.

  Eva offered to pay for her portion, but again, he declined, this time joking about billing it to her parent's account.

  She didn't find humor in his joke but forced a smile while scraping her leftovers into their box.

  Their car ride to Eva's apartment was silent and she tried not to feel like a brat. But was she not justified in her annoyance?

  Dante had been nice to her. She didn't know of his past but people could change, right? Even though he wasn't a… person, she was sure he wasn't the monster Monroe made him out to be. Her parents wouldn't have placed her, even temporarily, with someone they didn't trust.

  And his comments on her parents getting let off easy? Of course, they were her parents and she didn't want any harm coming to them. She knew there were rules — and yes, rules should be followed to an extent — but she wanted him to keep his damn opinions to himself. She doubted he'd even been old enough to remember the fire or to even pass judgment for their "crimes".

  And then there was the obvious hatred for Dante. No. Not just Dante. All beings from the Nether.

  She'd only met a handful – she thought and hoped – but even when she'd gone to Inferno, they hadn't blindly attacked her. There had to be good demons and… bad, right?

  She tried not to compare them to humans but this felt extremely prejudiced to her. Maybe that's why she was trying so hard not to pass judgment until she had all the facts. She knew just how horrible humans could be, some more than others, and she knew not to group people into a monolith.

  She didn't like being left in the dark. It made her feel small. Like a victim.

  How was she supposed to protect herself or form her own opinions if she didn't know anything? If she wasn't prepared? Her fingers wrapped around one of the potions in her pocket, the glass smooth and cool within her hand. So much power and potential in a fragile bottle.

  Just like her pendant. That she knew little to nothing about.

  She made a mental note to hound her parents for information the next time she saw them. There was no way she could continue living in the dark about this. And there had been no talk of filling her in or teaching her anything. Was she just to be married off without any regard? Any history lessons? That didn't seem fair. Or smart.

  For a moment, she thought about asking the one escorting her to her apartment since he’d kept his word on explaining some things today.

  They'd both been quiet the entire drive. And even now in the elevator, they stood there somewhat standoffish.

  No, she wouldn't ask Monroe. He seemed to have a warped view and she wanted the unbiased truth. But who could she trust to give her that? Her parents who'd kept up the charade? Dante the half-demon?

  There had to be some type of history books. Hopefully, some that weren’t as warped as normal human history books could be. She'd ask and make her decision herself if all demons were as bad as Monroe painted them. Or if they were capable of redemption as she thought maybe Dante was.

  Once she reached her door, she realized she'd been so consumed with her thoughts she hadn't thought about what the plan for the night was. Was Monroe staying or would they trust her alone? Did she even want to be alone with God knows what lurking around?

  For the first time all day, she felt her heart begin to race but before she could start to spiral too deep, she heard a door a couple apartments down. It would have worried her more if it hadn't been Dontrell, who seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

  "Oh, dope, you're alright." He rushed over to her, momentarily eyeing the man behind her. "I was hoping that was you coming off the elevator. I've been meaning to check on you. But, uh, I see you have company so–"

  "No, yeah!" She embraced him, grateful he was okay, though surprised he wasn't more freaked out. When his body tensed in her arms, she released him with an apology of her own. "I'm so glad you're okay. I'm so sorry about your car–"

  "Car?" He tilted his head in slight confusion. "Yeah, no, that was a freak accident, but I meant the break-ins."

  Again, he looked towards Monroe, and she thought maybe he was uneasy with their open conversation or possibly wanting an introduction.

  "I've been meaning to check on you with what happened to Mrs. Wells, but I’ve been mad busy. How'd you know about my car?"

  "What?" Eva asked exasperated. "Be so foreal right now. Last night? The–"

  "Garbage truck that hit his car." Monroe interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You were telling me about that. It's really unfortunate."

  Monroe shook his head with pity condolences which only confused Evanora further.

  "Hopefully they find the guy who wrecked it." Eva yelped at Dante's sudden appearance on the other side of her, causing her neighbor to eye both men.

  "Yeah..." he dragged out the word uncomfortably. "Ditto. Hey, man, do I know you?"

  "Sorry, man." Dante mimicked her neighbors' chill West Coast tone with a smirk. "I don't think so, man."

  Dontrell narrowed his eyes at him in what Eva thought was slight annoyance or maybe just trying to place the stranger's face. "You just look mad familiar."

  "One of those faces, I guess." Dante shrugged nonchalantly but returned to being serious when turning his attention to Eva. "Are we done with this riveting conversation?"

  She pressed her mouth in a fine line to make sure her annoyance was conveyed, but Dontrell was the one to apologize before dismissing himself to the elevator. He'd been heading to work and repeated he'd just wanted to check on Eva with everything going on.

  Everything being the not-so-b burglary break-ins and Mrs. Wells's death/murder. Not the fucking banshee attack they had both witnessed the previous night.

  She stalked both men back to her apartment and only once safe behind the closed door did she question, "What the hell was that about?"