Quote the Drow Nevermore

by Martha Carr

  Shuffling sleepily across the tiny living room, Cheyenne spared a considering glance at Glen. “Mm...nope. All that can wait for—” Another yawn interrupted her, and she blinked the tears out of her eyes before moving into the hall. “Tomorrow. It better just be a normal day.”

  The splintered door to her bedroom creaked open as she entered, and the halfling didn’t bother undressing before she fell into bed. For a second, she considered taking off the damn necklace again to keep it from cutting into her chest while she slept, but Corian’s furious feline face kept darting through her mind.

  Fine. Until I figure out a better way, I’ll keep the damn thing on.

  Her alarm woke her the next morning at 6:30, but when she slapped a hand down on her nightstand, she hit only bare wood. “What?”

  Pushing herself groggily up off the mattress, Cheyenne blinked and realized she’d left her phone in the front pocket of her backpack. She groaned and slid out of bed. Crumbs of plaster fell off the sheets, and she swiped them quickly under the bed.

  By the time she reached her backpack and the irritating alarm on her phone, she was fully awake and considered kicking her phone just to stop the noise. But she pulled it out instead, shut off the alarm, and found a text from Ember.

  2:00. I’m breakin’ outta here!

  With a chuckle, Cheyenne texted back that she’d be there, then headed to the shower to wash off the crust of mansion plaster and sweat and probably a little blood. I took an ogre out by the kneecaps, after all.

  No calls on the FRoE burner phone interrupted her while she got ready for another interminably boring day of sitting through her two graduate classes on a Thursday morning. No one tried to get in touch with her or send her messages as she pulled clean clothes out of the dryer and tugged them on. Then she dried her hair, brushed it out, and applied the pasty-white foundation and thick black lines smudged up into dark-gray eyeshadow. The halfling studied her reflection in the mirror and found herself glaring at the dark, glittering Heart of Midnight resting beneath her throat.

  “Okay. I’d be totally happy with just one normal day. If nothing else goes right, I have to be there for Em, so don’t stir up any shit.”

  Cheyenne nodded at herself, brushed her hair over her shoulders, and stepped back through her apartment to gather her stuff. She kicked aside the shredded black jacket and opened the closet door. Wrinkling her nose, she shoved the last few jackets aside and settled instead on a baggy black zip-up sweater with a hand throwing devil horns printed on the back. Shrugging it on, she smirked and zipped it up all the way. Mom was cool with the Goth thing, but she hated this hoodie. Comfier than I remember.

  She grabbed her keys, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and scanned her small apartment one more time. Everything’s normal. Just let it go.

  Then she shoved on her black Vans and headed out the door to start her day. When she closed the apartment door behind her, though, the feeling of something being not quite right was justified.

  “What the hell?”

  Under the apartment number tacked to her front door was a blood-red symbol that hadn’t been there before. It looked like a four-pointed star, the points stretched long into sharp ends. A thick drop of paint had collected at the bottom point, though it had crusted around the edges and wasn’t running down the wood anymore.

  Grimacing, Cheyenne leaned closer and sniffed. Not paint. That’s blood.

  “Shit.” She glanced down the hall and paused, her drow hearing ready to pick up any sound of someone running away. Or toward her. The hall was empty and silent. “The last thing I need is some crazy marking my door for...whatever.”

  She studied the four-pointed star painted in blood and shook her head. I’d love to know what the hell this symbol means.

  The door three apartments down squeaked when the doorknob turned, then the sound of her neighbors R’mahr and Yadje arguing about something spilled out into the hall. Cheyenne didn’t even think about it before swiping the sleeve of her hoody across the bloody symbol and hissed when it smeared across the door. The brick-red smudge on her black sleeve wasn’t any better, and she stopped herself from wiping it on her black cargo pants before dropping into a crouch and trying to wipe it off on the stained carpet of the hallway.

  That’s one benefit of not updating this crappy place since the ‘80s.

  “Cheyenne!”

  The halfling leaped to her feet and turned, quickly slipping her hand through the strap of her backpack to hide the smudge of blood soaking into the sleeve. “Morning.”

  “She’s here,” R’mahr said, turning back to shoot his wife an I-told-you-so glance.

  “She lives here, R’mahr.” Yadje jostled her husband aside before poking her head out into the hall. Long scarlet braids fell over her shoulder and dangled beside the troll woman’s violet cheeks. “We were a little worried about you.”

  Cheyenne forced herself to smile and headed down the hall. “Worried about me? I appreciate it, but everything’s fine.”

  “Well, we missed you yesterday.” R’mahr smiled in a poor attempt to hide his disappointment. “You know, we were hoping you’d come to Peridosh with us last night.”

  “Oh, right.” The halfling paused in front of their door. I knew I’d forgotten something. “I’m sorry, guys. I got held up. Maybe next time, huh?”

  “Yes. Next time. We go every Wednesday, don’t forget.” R’mahr bobbed his head up and down, grinning at her now as she passed their front door.

  “We might make another trip sooner than that,” Yadje added, then glanced over her shoulder when a loud, metallic rattle filled the apartment behind her. “Bryl, I told you to keep an eye on that pot. It’s boiling over.”

  “I’ll get it,” their daughter shouted.

  The troll woman shook her head with a forced smile and looked back up at Cheyenne with deep scarlet eyes. “Apparently, Bryl forgot to grab the most important ingredient from the potionmaster last night. I’m not sure I can go another week listening to that child whine about not having had enough time last night to find it. If we end up going later this week, Cheyenne, would you like to come?”

  The halfling paused again just past the troll family’s front door now and turned halfway around. “Yeah, maybe. Just let me know when, and we’ll figure it out.”

  “Excellent, yes.” R’mahr’s grin widened even more, and he stepped out into the hall. “Oh, and if you—”

  “Sorry, I really do have to get going. Lots of stuff to do today. We can talk about it later.”

  “Okay, uh…”

  “Bye, Cheyenne!” Yadje said through the door before tugging her husband back inside their apartment.

  The halfling chuckled a little as she pushed open the door to the stairwell. Now I’m gonna have to make up for bailing on my biggest fans.

  The morning air was a little crisp but not nearly as cold as the night before. Taking a deep breath, Cheyenne hurried outside across the parking lot. I know the morning’s not gonna go by quickly, but that doesn’t stop me from hoping.

  “Hey!” she shouted. “Not your car, buddy!”

  The guy crouching beside the rear door of her Focus jolted and spun on his heel.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  A shrieking giggle burst from the guy’s mouth before he scampered across the parking lot, his sneakers pounding on the asphalt. Cheyenne took off after him and reached him quickly enough, even without her drow speed. She grabbed him by the back of the jacket and jerked him sideways as he ran onto the open grass outside the apartment complex. The guy spilled across the grass with a thump, and the halfling leaped after him.

  Her knees skidded across the grass, and she seized the front of his shirt with both hands, shaking him a little to get his attention. Another insane giggle escaped him as his head whipped back and forth.

  “You picked the wrong car to break into,” she seethed. Then she saw the bull’s head pendant dangling around his neck. Shit. More loyalists. And this one’s wearin
g a human mask.

  The guy saw her staring at his pendant and guffawed in her face.

  She grimaced and turned briefly away. “Dude, ever heard of mouthwash?”

  “Nothing else matters.” The guy’s eyes were wide and glassy, spit flying from his lips as he grinned like a madman at the drow halfling.

  “Trust me, your bad breath matters.” Cheyenne shook him again. “What the hell do you people want from me, huh? Did you leave that crappy symbol on my door, too?”

  The guy hyperventilated, still grinning as he studied the half-drow who was close to punching him unconscious. “You don’t belong here, mór úcare,” he muttered. “She’s calling you back, you know. We can all feel it. Stop fighting, huh? Blood bonds with blood.”

  “Okay, quit the cryptic bullshit and tell me something I can use.” Cheyenne pulled her hand back and meant to slip into drow mode, but of course, nothing happened. This pendant’s really cramping my style. When the crazy human-looking magical shrieked with laughter again, the halfling shook him so hard that he fell backward, and she almost went over right on top of him. “Start talking, asshole. If I don’t belong here, tell me why!”

  A massive explosion ripped through the air behind her. Cheyenne whirled around, forgetting the cackling madman on the ground, and saw a pillar of flame, thick smoke, and twisted metal where her beat-up Focus had been. Three car alarms went off at the same time, and the rear door from the driver’s side clattered to the asphalt.

  “She’s got your scent!” the guy shrieked, slipping away from the halfling and scrambling to his feet. “Blood’s the only tie you have now, mór úcare. And when she finds you—” He cackled again and took off across the grass on wobbly legs.

  Cheyenne looked over her shoulder to see him disappear around the corner of another apartment complex and clenched her eyes shut. Literally let him slip through my fingers. Those guys are relentless.

  Pushing to her feet, she walked slowly off the grass until the heat of her flaming car made her stop in her tracks. She chewed her lower lip and slid her backpack off one shoulder to pull her cell phone from the front pocket. People stepped slowly out of the apartment complex to see what all the noise was about, and Cheyenne lifted her chin as she made the call.

  “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

  “Uh, my car just exploded.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  The halfling’s Ford Focus had settled into smoldering remains by the time the Richmond PD arrived. The dispatcher sent two squad cars, and Cheyenne quirked her lips in irritation when all four officers stepped out of their cars.

  “Is this your car, ma’am?”

  “Yeah.” The halfling glanced from one officer to the next. “I’ll start by saying I didn’t blow up my own car, and I don’t know who did, so you can cut those questions out.”

  The officer standing beside her looked up as the firetruck rolled into the parking lot. “What’s your name?”

  “Cheyenne.”

  “Do you have any ID on you, Cheyenne?”

  She slipped her backpack off her shoulders again and lowered it to the ground. “My wallet’s in my backpack.”

  “Go ahead and grab it.”

  As she rummaged through the front pocket, a firefighter headed toward her car with a portable fire extinguisher and unleashed what looked like the whole thing onto what few flames remained. The white foamed sprayed with a loud rush, and the other officers chuckled.

  Cheyenne finally found her wallet and stood, slipping her ID out of the clear plastic slot. She handed it over with a deadpan stare and waited for the officer’s reaction. Yep. There it is. Wide eyes. Confusion. Better believe you’re staring at Bianca Summerlin’s daughter, Mr. Policeman.

  “Well, Ms. Summerlin—”

  “Cheyenne. Ms. Summerlin’s my mom.” She tried not to smirk when the officer sputtered a little and cleared his throat.

  “Right.” He turned around again to eye the foam-splattered wreckage that was kind of shaped like a Ford Focus. “Any idea how this happened?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Hey, Higgins.” The tall, skinny officer crouched on their side of the ruined car and pointed at the rear wheel well. “What does that look like to you?”

  The female officer beside him cocked her head. “Somebody got really cute with a homemade bomb is what it looks like.”

  “Dammit. Okay, I’ll call it in to forensics.”

  “Do you know anyone who would want to hurt you by planting an explosive device under your car?”

  A bunch of crazy magical assholes from a world you’ve never heard of. “Not really.”

  “You get on anyone’s bad side lately?”

  It took all her willpower not to start laughing. “I’m not on anyone’s side, Officer. Good or bad. I came out to my car to head to class.” Cheyenne nudged her backpack with her shoe. “Saw a guy running out of the parking lot toward that building, then boom.”

  “Did you get a good look at this person’s face?”

  Like they’re ever gonna find it. “Nope. Just his back.”

  “All right. Wait here, Miss—Cheyenne. I’ll be right back.” The officer hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and headed back toward his squad car. His partner and the other officers joined him, and the halfling didn’t even have to look their way to hear the conversation.

  “Cheyenne Summerlin.”

  “What? Like the politician Summerlin?”

  “I think so, yeah.”

  “Someone’s got a serious death wish if they’re screwin’ around with that woman’s daughter.”

  “Says she doesn’t know anything.”

  “Probably doesn’t. I didn’t even know the woman had a kid.”

  “I’ll run her driver’s license. Then we’ll know more.” The officer with her ID slipped into his squad car as the other three turned together to eye Cheyenne.

  She just raised her eyebrows and gave them a curt nod. No one said a thing until the officer stepped out of his car again and lifted her ID toward the others. Apparently, his wide eyes and cocked head meant that yes, the Goth chick was who she said she was.

  He cleared his throat when he approached her. “I’m sorry this is the way your day started, Miss Summerlin. You have insurance?”

  Cheyenne took her ID when he returned it to her and shoved it into her pocket with her wallet. “Yeah.”

  “I’d file a claim with them. You’ll have to call a towing company to get that thing out of the parking lot if you want it inspected for…”

  They both glanced slowly at the foam-covered skeleton. The officer cleared his throat.

  “Probably the junkyard,” Cheyenne muttered. “If they’ll take it.”

  “Yeah. That’s probably best. Take some pictures of the damage for when you file a claim. And you’ll have to fill out an incident report.” He took a business card out of his back pocket and handed it to her. “Feel free to call if you need any help with that.”

  “Right. Thanks.”

  “Okay. Have a nice day.” The man stepped jerkily away from her, turning around to shoot her one more glance before nodding at his partner to return to the squad car.

  It took ten minutes for the gawking police and the firetruck to get the hell out of that parking lot. Then Cheyenne crumpled the business card and dropped it into the pocket of her backpack before slinging that over her shoulder again.

  File a claim. Yeah, right. She snorted and pulled out her phone again to call a cab. “Time for a new car anyway.”

  That afternoon, Cheyenne pulled into the VCU Medical Center parking lot in her new ride. System of a Down blasted through the sound system, and the shiny black Porsche Panamera rolled to a stop in the closest parking spot to the front doors that didn’t have a handicap parking sign. The woman pushing her toddler in a stroller up to the automatic double doors of the hospital shot the Goth chick a wide-eyed, judgmental stare.

  Cheyenne met the woman’s gaze, her head bobbing to
the music, and lifted her hand to wiggle her fingers in a cheerful wave. The woman shook her head and scurried into the hospital lobby while her toddler laughed and clapped along to the music.

  “This’ll be fun.”

  She turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. The fancy chirp when she pressed the lock button on the key fob made her smirk again. Oh, yeah.

  When she stepped inside the automatic sliding doors, Ember was in the lobby—dressed, hair brushed, her paperwork and her personal bags in her lap where the discharge nurse had parked her wheelchair. The magicless fae grinned when Cheyenne approached. “You’re early.”

  “Trust me, it wasn’t intentional.” The halfling smiled back and stopped in front of the wheelchair, giving it an appraising once-over. “Nice wheels.”

  Ember barked a laugh. “Yeah, you too. Did I really just watch you pull up in a Panamera?”

  “Hey, if that’s what you saw, I’m not gonna try to change your mind.”

  “Just felt like getting an upgrade, huh?” Ember peered around her friend to glance through the glass automatic doors at the shiny black car with the temporary taped in the back window. “That is not what I expected.”

  “Yeah, it’s funny now.” The halfling leaned toward her friend to mutter, “Wait ‘til I tell you what happened.”

  “I’m on the edge of my seat.”

  Cheyenne stepped back and glanced at the wheelchair again. “Ready?”

  “Almost.” Ember wiggled her eyebrows and nodded toward the front doors. “Let’s blow this joint, huh?”

  A surprised laugh escaped the half-drow. When Cheyenne caught her friend’s questioning frown, she just said, “You’ll get why that’s funny in a few minutes. You ready to go?”

  “Yep. Got my release papers and everything.” Ember winked, and Cheyenne figured out how to unlock the wheels before taking them both out into the sunshine and crisp autumn air.