The Rusty Spoke looked exactly the same.
Same neon sign flickering. Same motorcycles lined up outside. Same smell of beer and motor oil when Albert helped me through the door.
Everything the same. Except me.
"Holy shit." Reaper stood from the bar. Stared at me like I was ghost. "Eva? That really you?"
"It's me," I said. Voice still felt strange. Like speaking with chorus instead of single voice.
"You look—different." He approached slowly. Carefully. "Your eyes. They're—"
"Glowing," I finished. "I know. It's complicated."
"Everything with you is complicated." But he smiled. Pulled me into careful hug. "Thought we lost you. Victoria said you'd been taken. Said IQRD had you. Said—"
"I'm back now." I hugged him tighter than I should have. Felt his ribs creak. Released quickly. "Sorry.
