Quote the Drow Nevermore

by Martha Carr

  That yanked Cheyenne up the stairs. Grunting, she caught herself on the next step just before the ogre reared sideways and threw his wrists in a sweeping arc over his head and up the stairs toward the second floor. The halfling flew too, barely avoiding the bursts of purple and red magic shooting through the mansion. She crashed against the wall at the top of the stairs, grimacing while the ogre chuckled and headed toward her.

  Her black tendrils drew back, and she kicked off against the wall to enter drow speed.

  With a crack, time in the entire mansion slowed, and Cheyenne darted down the stairs again. The ogre’s foot was lifted halfway in his attempt to climb the stairs. She let off half a dozen black spheres, peppering his body from knee to head, then sent black tendrils to coil around his standing leg. When she jerked sideways, the ogre’s foot barely moved. So, she slipped behind him on the stairs and clamped both hands down around the backs of his knees. “More than one way to take you down, asshole.”

  Her black energy spheres crackled in her hands, their light bursting around the ogre’s legs before something splintered beneath her fingers. Then she shoved with all her strength and sent the huge magical crashing toward the railing.

  A wave of dizziness passed through her, and time sped up again. The mansion erupted with shouts and growls and hissing magic crashing into bodies and walls. The ogre added his bellowing scream to the din as he crashed through the balcony and dropped like a boulder on the unsuspecting goblins below.

  Blinking off the dizziness, Cheyenne pushed off the wall and started climbing the steps.

  “Oh, shit!” Bhandi peered through the splintered banister. “Did you just blast off his legs?”

  A spiraling yellow bolt cracked against the next shield the half-drow lifted in front of the troll agent, and Cheyenne turned her attention to the second ogre and the skaxen trying to defend that door.

  The other agents rushed up the stairs, firing fell rounds at the magicals. The halfling had to steady herself with a hand against the wall again, and Yurik stopped beside her with his weapon raised. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just get them away from the door, huh? I think the kids are in there, but I gotta check first, and I need a moment to do that.”

  “No repeat of that bomb in a crate.” Yurik nodded. “We’ll cover you.” Then he darted off down the second-floor hallway toward the ogre and the skaxen, added his own fell shots to the melee.

  Cheyenne shook out her hands and headed after him toward the door.

  The second ogre didn’t go down beneath the fellfire either. Roaring, he swept his huge arms left and right, fending off the agents who didn’t have enough firepower to do much more than distract him.

  The skaxen leaped onto the balcony and ran across it on all fours like a giant orange rat. Someone shot at him as he scrambled forward, but the fell darts went wild, then the skaxen leaped toward Cheyenne. She unleashed another crackling black sphere and hit the snarling orange magical in the thigh before he crashed into her and knocked them both against the wall, then fell to the floor in a heap.

  Snarling, the halfling batted the skaxen’s sharp claws away from her face as he scrambled to get a good hold on her. He somehow managed to get a grip on the collar of her jacket and lifted her off the ground before slamming her head back down.

  “All you have to do is swear fealty, mór úcare,” the orange guy hissed, spit flying from between his razor-sharp teeth. “That’s all she wants. This’ll all be over if you just give yourself to the Crown and let her handle the rest.”

  “No fucking way!” Cheyenne brought her elbow down on the side of the skaxen’s head. It knocked him off her just enough for her to roll out from under him. His claws raked through her jacket and into the flesh beneath as she grabbed him by his thin black shirt and threw him off her.

  The rat-like magical screamed as he soared over the balcony. Leaping to her feet, the halfling launched two more crackling black orbs at his chest, both of which hit him before he slammed into the floor beside the bloody stumps of the fallen ogre’s legs.

  I don’t know who these assholes think I am, but I’m not swearing shit to anyone.

  With a deep breath, she turned back toward the seven FRoE agents trying to bring down a snarling, raving ogre on their own.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Cheyenne darted around the agents, who were firing round after round of fell shots into the ogre’s gray flesh. It was enough of a distraction for the halfling to get to those guarded double doors unseen. Just a few seconds to make sure.

  She pressed her palm against the door and closed her eyes, bringing up her drow sight. A hot blast of green fire erupted by her hand, and she leaped aside before glancing over the balcony. Two orcs pulled up more fire to launch at her, and she scattered them with handfuls of hissing black energy.

  “I need cover!”

  Yurik ducked under the ogre’s sweeping arm and turned on one knee to level his pistol at the orcs. They dodged his first few shots, and Cheyenne turned back to the door.

  Make it quick. She closed her eyes and pulled up her drow sight again, pouring all her focus into that one ability because that was the only way. Another crackling dart of magic whizzed past her head, and she hissed out a frustrated breath. Come on!

  A faint blue outline appeared in her mind’s eye, huddled on the ground just beyond the door. Then another blast of magic struck the wooden floor beside her feet, and the halfling jerked back. That’s good enough for me.

  “They’re in here!” she shouted and reached for the door handle. But there wasn’t one. Of course not.

  Cheyenne stepped back and blasted the door with a black sphere. An orange and red light flared around the door, and that was it. “Shit. Wards too?”

  The FRoE agents repeated the shout of getting upstairs to break down those doors. The operatives fighting the ogre were busy enough as it was, and the others downstairs were sweeping through the mansion, trying to gather at the stairs and getting cut off by the kidnappers.

  Bhandi let out a battle cry and tossed two fell grenades at the ogre. The other agents hit the deck before the black disks detonated. The blast sent Cheyenne reeling away from the door as more spells flew up from the foyer and hit the wall beside her head. The ogre roared and slapped a meaty gray hand to his eye, blood spewing everywhere.

  Then Yurik was at Cheyenne’s side, studying the double doors from top to bottom. “Didn’t think a drow needed to use doorknobs.”

  “Wards.” She pointed at the door and threw up a shield in front of three more agents running up the stairs. The purple shards of some goblin’s attack ricocheted off the black light of the shield, and the agents kept running. They skirted past the ogre, who still roared and stumbled around, blinded by shrapnel.

  “You know anything about wards?” Yurik asked.

  “That door would be open if I did.”

  “Right.” He stepped back and fired fell shots into the door, which only brought up the orange and red glow of protective wards without doing any damage. Turning back toward the fighting, the goblin roared, “Anyone got a blaster?”

  A massive explosion made the floor tremble beneath their feet. Cheyenne staggered as a blast of smoke and debris hurtled into the foyer from another room downstairs. FRoE agents ran away from the blast, ducking debris and throwing spells and firing their fell rifles where they could.

  A raging scream below made Cheyenne peer over the balcony. Three skaxen stood in a half-circle, their arms outstretched in front of a black circle opening in mid-air. “What the hell is that?” Yurik shouted.

  “A portal,” the halfling snarled and stormed toward the balcony. “Get that door open.” Or we’re screwed.

  She launched black energy spheres over the balcony, hitting two of the skaxens’ legs. They screamed and jumped around. The growing portal downstairs shivered but held steady. Cheyenne reached out with her flailing black tendrils, but she was too far away. The drow whips smacked one skaxen’s sweaty orange face, bu
t that was it. Then a troll spewed a column of dripping blue magic up at her. The halfling retracted her tendrils to throw up a shield around herself, the blue spell splashing against it like thick magical mud.

  Someone fired more shots at the doors behind her, and the orange and red wards flashed even brighter.

  Cheyenne glanced quickly from the skaxens’ growing portal to the agents locked in battle at the foot of the stairs. More of them climbed the stairs, occasionally turning back to fire their weapons and keep the pursuing magicals at bay. The ogre kept fighting, swinging blindly but still not going down. We bit off more than we could chew this time.

  A bright flash of silver light burst through the open door downstairs, and the entire fight changed.

  The three skaxens summoning a portal were first. Two of them clutched their necks, blood spraying all over the third before he screamed and crashed into the wall. The portal fizzled out with a pop. The silver streak blurred across the foyer again. Fights between FRoE agents and magicals were broken up in an instant, the silver bursts of light striking the black-magic enemies. Some went flying through the air, while agents staggered back in surprise. Some magicals lost limbs or dropped where they stood, choking and gasping before falling over.

  The silver lightning darted back and forth across the foyer, leaving the agents untouched and everything else destroyed in its wake. In a flash, it raced past the agents being pushed down the stairs again by the enraged and blinded ogre. Blinding silver light ripped his gray flesh from navel to chin, and the ogre dropped.

  “What the hell?”

  “Who’s doing that?

  “Just gutted the bastard like a fish!”

  The silver streak moved in a blur that was impossible to see, heading for Cheyenne and Yurik beside the double doors. The orange and red wards erupted in a flash of light, the doors burst open, and then the silver flash darted away.

  Cheyenne changed into drow speed, surrounded by FRoE operatives frozen in shock and bewilderment. She ran down the hall toward the staircase and leaped down two at a time. “Corian!”

  The Nightstalker moved quickly down the stairs but didn’t bother to look at her.

  “Hey! I know you hear me.”

  When she’d made it halfway down the stairs, he whirled to face her and hissed, his silver eyes flashing in the super-speed stasis around them, “I didn’t give you that pendant so you could take it off to play drow superhero, kid.”

  “What?” The halfling moved the rest of the way down the staircase toward him. “You know what? You’re the one who didn’t tell me what it does. And I asked!”

  “Me telling you to do something should be enough. I’m not risking my neck to help you if you keep insisting on being a moron.”

  “Look, asshole, it’s a good thing I figured out what that pendant does, or I would’ve walked in here without magic.” Cheyenne glanced at the carnage in the foyer and pointed to the ogre with his legs blown off. “And I’d end up like one of those guys. I came here to find those kids, and I’m not about to turn my magic off just to make you feel safer.”

  “I am safe, Cheyenne!” Baring his teeth, Corian stormed toward her, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’ve been safe for hundreds of years on this side, and the only thing that’s coming even remotely close to blowing my cover and bringing it all crashing down around me is you. I have my orders, and I’m following them. Suck it the hell up and do the same.”

  “I don’t take orders, Nightstalker. That’s not what this is about.”

  “Everyone in this house knew you were here. Who do you think that skaxen portal was for, huh? You charged in here like an idiot without any protection, and you need to get it through your thick drow head that the game has changed.”

  Cheyenne shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  The Nightstalker's silver eyes darted around the destroyed foyer littered with criminal bodies. “This is the last time I pull your head out of your ass for you, got it? Put the fucking pendant back on.”

  He turned without another word and stalked back out of the house. As he stepped through the doorway, Cheyenne’s enhanced speed fell away.

  “Holy shit,” Yurik muttered, staring through the open double doors on the second floor before reaching out to nudge the halfling he still thought stood beside him. “You were right about— What?” He turned quickly and found her standing at the bottom of the stairs. “What the hell are you doing down there? We got the kids. Hey!” The goblin agent waved for the rest of the team to join him in front of the double doors.

  Beside the debris spilling out of the room next to the foyer, Rhynehart ripped off his helmet and stared at the halfling. “What the hell was that?”

  Cheyenne turned toward him and grimaced. “Those kids are a lot more important right now, don’t you think?”

  She ignored his irritated mumbling as she stalked back up the stairs with the other FRoE agents to join Yurik by the door. Some still gazed around in amazement, taking their helmets off to get a better view of the destruction.

  “Hey, kids,” one of the agents said gently from just outside the door. He set his helmet on the floor, holstered his weapon, and waved for the terrified kidnapping victims to come out of the warded dungeon they’d been crammed into for at least a day. “Everything’s okay. We’re gonna get you all outta here and take you home.”

  Cheyenne’s enhanced hearing picked up heavy frightened breathing from the beings inside that room. Some of the magical kids started crying. A goblin boy about twelve or thirteen was the first to step through the door. He gazed around the mansion with wide eyes, taking in the dead bodies, the bloodstained floors, and the walls riddled with charred holes and cracks and missing huge chunks. Then he turned toward the agent who’d spoken to the kids and stuck out his hand. “Thank you.”

  The agent looked startled, then he gripped the goblin boy’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Doin’ our job, kid. If you wanna thank somebody, go shake the drow’s hand.”

  The kid’s eyes grew wide when he saw Cheyenne standing at the top of the stairs.

  The image of the goblin boy dressed up in robes and lying dead in that church came uninvited to Cheyenne’s mind. She blinked at him, swallowed, and muttered, “Just help everyone else get outta there. You guys’ll be fine.”

  Then the drow halfling brushed past the other FRoE agents. Rhynehart stared at her as she stormed through the foyer. She had to swerve to avoid the bodies scattered all over the place, and she felt his gaze on her even when she stepped outside into the early evening. We only made it out of this because of Corian. Maybe he was right.

  Cheyenne jammed her hand into the outside pocket of her jacket and took out the Heart of Midnight pendant. The gem glittered at her in the orange and pink light of sunset, and she begrudgingly put it back on, tying a little knot in the thing’s silver chain because she’d broken the clasp.

  Her drow magic and the heat of her rage disappeared, squashed back down inside her by the protective spell of Corian’s stupid necklace. Her bone-white hair darkened into her regular High Voltage Raven Black, the purple-gray of her drow skin lightening to her human paleness. The pointed tips of her ears disappeared beneath her hair again. Clenching her fists, she took off toward the line of FRoE vehicles parked at the curb just beyond the mansion. I just need a minute to cool off. Then I’ll come back to help those kids get to their parents.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  When the last wide-eyed and shell-shocked magical kid was loaded into the last black FRoE van called in for transport, Cheyenne nodded at the agent who shut the door. That agent got behind the wheel, her partner in the passenger seat beside her, and the van took off after all the other vehicles.

  Rhynehart tossed his helmet, vest, and dampening gloves into the back of his Jeep and whistled. “Let’s go.”

  It took a lot of willpower to pull her gaze away from that last retreating van, but she finally managed it and turned to head for the passenger-side door of the Jeep
. Once she closed the door behind her, Rhynehart started the engine with a jerking twist and slowly left the neighborhood.

  “Let me guess,” Cheyenne muttered. “The cleaning crew comes later.”

  “Different department.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Let’s focus on ours, huh? Now that the most important job’s out of the way and the kids are heading back to base, this is the part where you tell me who the hell our lightning-bolt hero was.”

  The halfling turned to frown at the agent, who was so focused on playing hardball with her that he squinted against the sunset, his sunglasses forgotten.

  “I can’t tell you anything about that, Rhynehart.” Not if he doesn’t already know we had our asses saved by a Nightstalker. Especially Corian.

  “You’re getting really good at mimicry, you know that?” Rhynehart shot her a quick glance, blinked furiously against the sun, and jerked down the visor. It didn’t do anything to block the glare. When he grunted in irritation, Cheyenne leaned forward and grabbed his sunglasses from the cubby beneath the dashboard.

  “Here.”

  “Yeah.” He snatched them from her, put them on with one hand, and shook his head. “Don’t expect me to believe for one second that you don’t know shit about what happened in there. One minute you’re up there trying to knock down that door. The next minute, there’s a goddamn silver tornado taking down every single one of our targets, and who’s suddenly standing right there in front of me at the bottom of the stairs again?”

  The halfling stared out the windshield, pressing her lips together.

  “Not a rhetorical question, Cheyenne. I’m talking about you and the look on your face when our anonymous friend booked it back out that door. If you don’t know who it was, you know something. Spill it.”

  “There’s nothing to spill, man. Sorry.” She couldn’t look at him. I can’t trust him either, and I’m not about to throw Corian under the bus, even if he called me a moron.