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“They won’t let me play because I electrocuted a full platoon last time. It was an accident, well, mostly, but everyone’s so sensitive in the workplace these days.”
I stare at her, trying to decide whether she’s serious. The metal sticks holding her hair in place make me think she probably is. Especially when I put that with Klyn’s earlier reaction about her being banned today.
“My touch kills people,” I say.
“Nice one,” she says.
“So, you and Legion,” I begin. “Are you guys close? I mean have you…?”
She immediately holds up a hand. “Whoa, let me just stop you right there, Twenty Questions. Me and Legion are friends. That’s it.”
“Right, sorry.”
“Seriously. I’ve known that dude for five fucking millennia. In all that time, we’ve gotten into many a drunken brawl, not to mention the brawls where we were sober. My point is, if we haven’t boned before now, I think it’s safe to say you have nothing to worry about.”
“Point taken,” I say, feeling awkward for even broaching the topic and wondering when it might be polite to bolt.
But she continues like we weren’t just talking about hers—or Legion’s—sex life, nodding down at the field. “Legion and Klyn are assholes about war games by the way. Don’t be fooled by the name of the game being paintball. This is going to get ugly, especially if Klyn wins.”
“Nothing about that surprises me. Legion’s terrible about not getting his way. Why should a game be any different.”
Styx snorts. “I think I like you.”
I smile, and we both spend the next few minutes watching the two teams assemble on the field. Legion and Klyn are, apparently, team captains, and make a huge show about who they pick for their sides. Styx points out some of the men, naming them, but mostly so she can tell me who she almost paralyzed last time they did this.
She’s kind of scary—and fun.
The door opens, and another female joins us. Her dark brown hair hangs loose around her shoulders, and hazel eyes are quick to assess me. I’ve never met her in person before, but her family is known well enough in the Crossroads that I recognize her anyway. Reagan Santiago. Queen of Tartarus. Looking strangely normal in her jeans and tank top.
“Mind if I join you?” she asks.
“Nope. You’re right on time,” Styx tells her. “They’re just about to start.”
“Perfect.” She closes the door behind her and walks right up to me. “I’m Reagan. You must be Tori. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hi.” I start to shake her hand, but nerves have me yanking it away again despite the gloves protecting us both.
Reagan doesn’t seem to mind though. In fact, she says, “Sorry, I totally forgot about your situation. Handshakes are probably not a great idea, huh.”
“No need to apologize. I’m still getting the hang of being this close to people.”
I glance at Styx whose hand I shook without a thought earlier. She shoots me a wink as Reagan answers, “I’m sure. And then you’re forced into Tartarus on top of it.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond before adding, “I know what it’s like, believe me.”
“Thanks.”
“I heard about your Februlune adventure,” she says. “How are you? Sounded like a close call.”
I tense, but there’s no trace of teasing or lecturing in her tone. Only concern.
“Wait, what was a close call?” Styx asks.
“My sister and I decided to go for a walk and ran into a bear with moon fever,” I say. “Apparently, he decided we were in his way and dealt with us accordingly.”
“Shit, why didn’t Legion warn you?” Styx demands.
“Good question,” I say.
“Well, at least he was there to intervene on your behalf,” Reagan says.
