The Drow There and Nothing More (Goth Drow Book 3)

by Martha Carr

  “Corian.” She pulled up his number and hovered her thumb over the call icon.

  “You think he could help us with our creepy-neighbor problem?”

  “Oh, now you think he’s creepy.”

  Ember glanced at the door and lowered her voice despite the loud bass thumping from across the hall and the constant drone of voices and outbreaks of laughter. “Yeah. You finally got me to see things your way, and I don’t think I can unsee them.”

  “Corian would help if I asked him.”

  “Great.”

  “But I’m not gonna ask him.”

  Ember groaned and buried her face in her hands.

  “Hey, not until I look into what Matthew Thomas might or might not have done in here. If I can take care of it myself, I will. So for now, we’ll just keep the door locked, and it’s all good.”

  Blinking furiously, the fae wheeled herself toward the front door and turned the chair sideways so she could flip the knob lock and reach the deadbolt. “Honestly, Cheyenne, figuring out if someone bugged my apartment would be number one on my priority list.”

  “Well, we do have our differences.” Cheyenne forced herself to make the call and lifted the phone to her ear. “This is a little more important right now.”

  “What is?”

  “That damn leg.” The halfling glanced at her friend and raised her eyebrows. “I’ve seen something like that before. I’m pretty sure I fought my first O’gúl war machine at Peridosh tonight.”

  “Your first what?”

  “Yeah.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Corian’s low voice came in scratchier than normal over the phone. “What’s up, kid?”

  “Oh, you know, just a regular Tuesday night. Pretty chill. Having fun.”

  A long pause greeted her in response. “What happened?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m wondering.”

  The nightstalker said, “Look, we’re in the middle of decoding some shit I can’t pretend to understand.”

  “We?” Persh’al added in the background. “Uh-uh. I’m decoding, man. You’re just breathing down my neck.”

  “Ain’t that what supervisors are for?” Byrd shouted from the other side of the warehouse.

  Corian’s thick swallow and slow, irritated exhalation came through loud and clear. “Obviously, I don’t have time for games, Cheyenne. And I’m not in the mood.”

  “Right. Because you caught the guy who figured out how to make the other-side tech work over here, and now you’re diligently trying to keep that knowledge out of anyone else’s hands. Does that sum it up?”

  “Yeah, just about.”

  “Good. So maybe you can tell me why an assembled piece of that machinery tunneled all the way under Union Hill and crashed a pretty big underground party. If you catch my drift.” Cheyenne pulled one leg up onto the recliner and rested her elbow on her knee, propping her phone against her ear.

  Corian’s pause was even longer this time. “What?”

  “I know you heard me.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Apparently not. I’m staring at a leftover piece of it lying on my couch right now. Took some parts with me. You know, in case it helps you guys figure out where you went wrong. Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “No, it was not.” Corian pulled the phone away from his mouth as he said it.

  Oh, yeah. I can see him shooting Persh’al the evil eye.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Cheyenne said, “The thing came out of nowhere, man. Or it came from underground. Really loud digger, but I couldn’t pin it down until it popped out in the middle of a fun little shopping center and started throwing things around.”

  “What did it want?”

  “Seriously?” She couldn’t help but laugh. “I really hope these machines don’t want anything.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I have no idea why it was there, okay? But my best guess is it got a jump start on the others and came looking for me, seeing as all the living beings with brains and normal bodily functions have failed so far.”

  “That might be the case. You say you brought back some parts?”

  Cheyenne eyed the black metal leg and nodded. “Yeah. After I buried that thing in the middle of the tunnel.”

  “What? You engaged it?”

  “Hey, it engaged me. And everyone else down there. I wasn’t about to let it tear the place apart.”

  “Cheyenne, did you attack it with your personal weapons?”

  “We’re still talking in code, right?”

  “Answer the question!”

  She pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned at it. “Yeah. That’s pretty much my go-to reaction. Something drops out of the wall and comes running at me, I’m gonna get it with fire first. I mean, not that fire.”

  “But you made direct contact.”

  “That’s what I said. Then it turned on me, and I had to improvise.”

  “Shit.” Corian’s phone clattered against a hard surface, and Persh’al’s voice came through closer than before.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Put that thing on speaker, will you?”

  “Uh, yep.” There was a tap, then the blue troll’s steady breathing came through loud and clear. “You’re on speaker, kid.”

  Cheyenne frowned at the black metal leg on her couch. “What’s going on?”

  “If you’d buried that thing using nothing but earth, Cheyenne,” Corian called from some distance away, “we wouldn’t have this problem. But a direct attack means that thing’s operating system, more or less, got a lock on your signature. That was the one thing they didn’t have.”

  “Christ.” The halfling rolled her eyes and glanced at Ember, who widened her eyes in a silent request for an explanation. Cheyenne shook her head and lifted a finger. “So, what do we do?”

  “I’m coming to get you. Where are you?”

  “At home. My apartment. Just don’t show up in Ember’s bedroom or anything, okay?”

  “Is that where you’re planning on being in the next few minutes?”

  She grimaced. “Dude.”

  “I’ll show up wherever you are, Cheyenne.” Something clattered across the cement floor of the warehouse, followed by a hissing string of curses as Corian cleaned up whatever mess he’d made. “Just wait for me, all right? Don’t go anywhere, and don’t touch whatever parts you brought back with you.”

  “Well, one’s in my pocket, and I carried the other one home with me like a baton.”

  The nightstalker growled in frustration. “Well, don’t pick it up again, got it? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay. Is this gonna be a long wait?

  “Persh’al, turn that off.”

  “You sure?”

  “End the fell-damn call, troll!”

  “Well, fuck the Crown sideways, man. Chill out. I’m just trying to help.”

  The line disconnected, and Cheyenne stared at her phone, gritting her teeth.

  “Not a good call, I take it?”

  Looking up at Ember, the halfling shook her head. “No, not really. I might’ve stepped in it by taking down that fire-breathing machine-bug and saving hundreds of lives. But of course, none of that matters because I’m the chosen one who can’t be left alone or trusted to take care of anything on my own. Which is pretty hard to do when not one goddamn person does what they say they’re gonna do!”

  The heat of her drow magic flared up her spine without being summoned, and a drow with purple-gray skin and bone-white hair now fumed on the black leather recliner.

  Ember bit her bottom lip and folded her arms. “You might wanna take it easy on your phone, though. I mean, not like you couldn’t afford a new one, but personally, I hate having to get new phones.”

  Cheyenne dropped her phone into her lap and made a noise that landed somewhere between a snort and a growl, then looked at her friend. Ember raised her eyebrows and slowly nodd
ed. “Awesome. I just threw a tantrum.”

  “A minor tantrum, yeah.” The fae’s smile bloomed on her lips, and she shrugged. “I will say a full-drow tantrum is a lot cooler than you running away to hide what you can’t keep down.”

  “At least I’ve got that behind me.”

  “No more covering your ears.”

  “No more crushing beer bottles with my bare hands.” They smirked at each other, and Cheyenne had to pull her gaze away. That was the night everything changed. That’s how I got here, and the only part I regret is not stepping into who I am sooner. She glanced briefly at Ember’s wheelchair. “Okay, so Corian will be here in who knows how long. Don’t feel like you have to wait around with me.”

  “Oh, trust me. I don’t.” The fae yawned and smacked her lips. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was tired. That orc’s fae juice hit me hard, and now it’s starting to fade. Just like me.”

  “I noticed.”

  Ember reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the silver illusion-charm ring. Grinning, she wiggled it and raised an eyebrow. “I’m assuming I can keep this.”

  “It’s all yours, Em. That pendant’s magic dried out, and I don’t have anything to hide anymore.”

  “Sounds very freeing.”

  Cheyenne snorted.

  “Seriously, thanks for this. And for taking me out with your weird friends tonight.”

  “So weird. They were a lot less tense when they took me out, but I can’t blame them. Lotta shit goin’ on for everybody.”

  Ember leaned forward to peel off her purple jacket. “Still, I had fun. Something else we have in common, right? Took twenty-one years and a whole world of hurt for either of us to finally get out into the world of magicals as ourselves.”

  “Glad I could help you with that.” Cheyenne took a deep breath and slipped back into her human form. “I think those agents liked you.”

  “As long as they know I won’t be anyone’s token fae friend.” They shared a small, tired laugh. “Seriously, though. I’ll take being a part of that whole world, even underground and with a giant machine-bug thing attacking everyone, over watching you almost die fighting portal monsters any day of the week.”

  “Don’t get sappy on me, Em. It might ruin our friendship.”

  Scoffing, Ember tossed her jacket over the back of the couch and pointed at it. “Hang that up for me, will ya? I’m gonna go pass out.”

  “‘Night.”

  “I hope so.”

  Cheyenne couldn’t help the hint of a smile as she watched her friend wheel quickly across their wide-open loft apartment. The fae didn’t hit any doorways or corners on the way into her bedroom, and the door closed softly behind her.

  The halfling blew out a long, slow sigh and scratched her head. Then she looked over her shoulder at the iron rail around her mini-loft office. Looks like I have some digging to do and a few minutes to kill. Time to figure out what Mr. Nice Guy Neighbor is up to.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Although she didn’t hop on the dark web, at least not to start, Cheyenne ran a double-encryption through her regular server and then powered up her VPN as a bonus. I’m not gonna let Glen run so much as a Google search on this guy without extra protection. Not that he could be better than me anyway. Dude probably has a whole team of cybernerds working for him and never touched a piece of code in his life. Money’ll do that. Just not to me.

  She did run another Google search on Matthew Thomas, and her browsing wasn’t interrupted this time.

  Cybersecurity, market trading, and advanced prosthetics were just the tip of the iceberg for their weirdly calm neighbor. As far as the rest of the world could see, Matthew was also on the board, if not the founder, of several international non-profits and global charities providing educational funding, support, and school supplies for grade-school kids in underprivileged communities.

  This guy’s reputation rivals Bianca Summerlin’s, only he’s not hiding a bastard halfling in that loft apartment.

  Cheyenne wrinkled her nose.

  Nobody’s this altruistic just because. Cheap shot, trying to hide whatever else he’s doing behind helping kids learn and sending them books they’ll never have time to read.

  She clicked into several of the non-profits and charities to poke around, but as far as she could tell, nothing was out of place. Matthew Thomas’s name was right there on every board of directors and list of trustees. He’d even gotten a scholarship named after him, which apparently he funded personally for a hundred kids right out of high school based on financial need, scholastic merit, and what the site called “an exceptional understanding of personal growth and potential, combined with a fierce desire to improve, succeed, and better both themselves and their community.”

  “Okay.”

  She scrolled through the scholarship info page and found a snippet of an interview with the man himself.

  “Yes, I read through every single submitted application. This is something I’m providing personally, not through one of my many other organizations. [laughter] So there’s nobody else reading through these incredible essays that land on my desk. And let me tell you, selecting only a hundred of these a year is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. So, how do I make that decision in the end? I’m looking for heart, dedication, and perseverance. I’m looking for someone who really wants this, and who, in a perfect world, is unlikely to squander the opportunity by partying all through college and letting everything else take a back seat to the present moment. It’s an unrealistic expectation, I know, but I have high hopes for these kids. I want to see that they do and if they can dive deep into themselves and show me what they want to be seen instead of showing me what they think I want to see. That greatly raises their chances of receiving one of these scholarships.”

  “Oy.” Cheyenne scrolled through the rest of the interview excerpt and shook her head. Sounds like a genuinely good guy obsessed with helping others. Why does he rub me the wrong way?

  After scrolling through his Wikipedia page and clicking on several links to his various organizations and high-profile firms, she decided to start with the cyber-security pillar of all Matthew Thomas’s dabbling, ThomasSafe.

  “So humble and original.” She snorted and waited half a second for the page to load.

  A prickle of suspicion rose along the back of her neck, and she grabbed the monitor with both hands to angle it down toward the desk. Can’t have him snooping on me snooping on him, if that’s what’s happening here.

  Cheyenne rolled the office chair away from the desk and spun it lazily toward the back corner of the mini-loft. She scanned the crease between the wall and the ceiling and grinned. If he’s watching and doesn’t freak out after this, I’m going with the psychopath option.

  The halfling slipped into her drow form and enhanced her speed a fraction of a second later. Then she stood and rolled the chair behind her toward the corner. The swiveling chair didn’t move when she stepped onto it and peered up into the corner, running her hands along the walls and the ceiling, searching for a different kind of mechanical bug. They’d be small, and this is a ridiculously obvious place to put a tiny spy camera.

  She spun the chair to face the rest of her elevated office and scanned the potential hiding spots. Reaching out toward the wall behind her, the halfling let off a small, controlled burst of telekinetic energy, and the rolling office chair lurched toward the center of the mini-loft.

  “Woah.” Her arms shot out to her sides for balance, and she chuckled. “Having this much control makes things way too easy. No wonder every drow wants to pass their trials.”

  The chair had stopped right where she wanted it, beneath the recessed light fixture in the ceiling. Cheyenne reached up and quickly unscrewed the spiral bulb. Then she ran her finger around the edge of the fixture before turning her attention to the lightbulb itself. All this twisting glass makes for a lot of surface area. A camera could be stuck in just the right place.

  She turned th
e bulb over in her hand, running her fingers along every edge of the twisting glass. A soft pop sounded behind her, followed by, “What are you doing?”

  The surprise made her slip out of drow speed as the lightbulb slipped from her fingers and smashed on the wooden floor beneath her. She turned too quickly to look over her shoulder and almost fell off the chair. So much for looking for bugs faster than anyone could watch me.

  Corian stood between her and the far corner of the mini-loft, his arms folded and his head tilted comically far toward his shoulder.

  “I’m changing a lightbulb.”

  “Like that? I didn’t know it took enhanced drow speed to get non-essential repairs done.”

  “Well, maybe I was trying to buy myself a little extra time and finish everything before you got here.”

  “Right. Because that’s a commonly asked question. ‘How many drow halflings does it take to screw in a lightbulb?’”

  Cheyenne glared at him and leaped off the chair, careful not to land in the shattered glass. “Well, now I have my answer. None. But the nightstalker has awful timing and broke the lightbulb.”

  “I didn’t touch your lightbulb.”

  Rolling the chair back into place at her desk, Cheyenne shook her head. “This wins the Most Useless Conversation award by a landslide.”

  “I agree. Can we go on? I didn’t spend a quarter of an hour doubling up on dampening wards to stand here and chat.”

  “Yeah, I know.” After glancing around the mini-loft, she stooped to grab a sheet of paper from the printer on the floor and used it as a dustpan for as much glass as she could sweep onto it with her hand.

  Corian frowned. “You want some real cleaning supplies? Gloves, at the very least.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Apparently, I’m immune to broken glass. And no, this isn’t the first time I’ve tested that theory.”

  “That sounds like something I should be concerned about.”

  “You know what?” Cheyenne stood, carefully rolled the paper to keep its contents from spilling out, and tossed it in the black tin trashcan left over from Pellerville Gables Apartments’ days of pretending the mini-loft was a working office. “If you had been around when I found out on my own why I don’t get cuts, you’d realize that’s the last thing you need to worry about. I broke a lot of things trying to rein in the drow when I didn’t want it to come out. And now that I have a handle on my magic, I’m still breaking things because you like to whip up a little portal surprise when I’m focused on other things.”