by Martha Carr
“No problem.” Cheyenne’s nose wrinkled as she let out a chuckle. “Thanks for not being a completely insane person. I thought maybe you were broken.”
“Ha. No, just overly confident in my assumptions.” The woman pressed her hands together, laced her fingers, and set both hands on her lap. “I guess ignorance is only bliss without the delusion that you can’t possibly be ignorant of anything.”
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
Mattie tried not to smile but couldn’t help it. “Quoting religious texts in casual conversation. Very nice.”
Cheyenne shrugged. “I’m just cultured like that.”
Shaking her head, the professor let out another chuckle of relief and self-criticism. “It’s good to be reminded that I don’t know everything. I needed that.”
“Happy to help.” The halfling said it with a deadpan expression, although there was plenty of humor there too. But they still hadn’t gotten to the main reason she’d stormed into the other woman’s office for a confrontation that had turned out nothing like Cheyenne had expected. “What the hell happened with your magic this morning?”
There was definitely a new kind of warning in Mattie’s gaze now, but the woman pushed past it and realized Cheyenne wouldn’t stop without getting most of her questions answered. “I was overly distracted.”
“You mean, you panicked.”
The professor’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was panic, but fine. Yes. I’d received the signs last night and this morning. Call them messages if it makes it easier. I assumed they had more to do with you and your adventure with the FRoE—no, I don’t want more details—than was appropriate. Apparently.”
Wrinkling her nose, the halfling couldn’t decide whether she was amused by that twisted logic or if she hadn’t been suspicious enough of her professor turned magical trainer. “So…what? You thought I was more involved, and the best way to deal with that was to summon a spell in the middle of class? What were you gonna do, blast me unconscious right there in front of everyone?”
“No. But I’m starting to think maybe I should have.” Mattie’s lips twitched into a smirk, then she dipped her head toward her student. “I’d been trying to respond to these messages since last night.”
“Magical messages.”
“Well, I don’t use spells with my Gmail account.”
Cheyenne barked a laugh, then pulled herself together. “Who sent you the messages?”
“That’s none of your business, and I wouldn’t tell you even if I wanted you to know. Simply put, I was focused on being certain I wasn’t in immediate danger, and the spell just kinda slipped out.”
The halfling rubbed her face with both hands to keep herself from laughing at what obviously wasn’t a joke this time. “Your spells just slip out, huh?”
“Okay, halfling. I know nothing like that has ever happened to you.” Mattie folded her arms. “But I’m sure, in all your infinite wisdom, you can step down off that high horse and imagine what it would be like to have less control over your magic in emotionally charged situations.”
“Hey, woah.” Cheyenne lifted her hands in surrender, only half-joking. “Going right for the throat with the sarcasm today, aren’t you?”
“You know, it’s been a go-for-the-throat kinda day.” The professor’s smile had taken on a hint of bitterness, but at least the moldy-orange scent had been fading since they’d decided to sit down and make this a real conversation. “I haven’t lost control like that for a long time, but apparently it’s still possible. I’m sorry you had to see it.”
“Better me than some other college kid crapping their pants because they don’t know what magic is. Better than you accidentally blowing up your class or something.”
“Still.” Mattie shrugged and let out a long sigh. “Thank you for stopping me.”
“Yeah.” They looked away from each other and just sat there in surprisingly awkward silence.
Finally, Mattie popped her lips and slapped her hands on her thighs. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about other than my lapse in judgment and magical stability?”
She tried to make it sound like a joke, but it wasn’t as effective as it could have been when both women knew self-deprecating humor was just another way to bring that student-mentor wall back up between them again. A small wall, sure, but a wall nonetheless. Can’t blame her for that. I do the same thing.
“Yeah, actually. Couple things.” The half-drow pulled her backpack into her lap, unzipped it, and pulled out the drow puzzle box.
“No.”
“Oh, come on.” Rolling her eyes, Cheyenne nestled the copper box in her hands and leaned forward, propping her elbows on her thighs. “I haven’t even asked a question yet.”
“I don’t need to be asked to know I can’t tell you anything about that. I thought we already covered that part.”
“You knew enough to tell me it’s a drow thing. Which is definitely good to know, because it’s starting to do stuff.”
“’Do stuff?’”
“Yeah.”
Mattie eyed the cube covered in etched drow runes, then blinked at her student. “You know, coming from someone who’s probably already surpassed my knowledge of programming and technology, that wasn’t the well-rounded summary I expected.”
“Well, I don’t have a well-rounded clue what’s going on with this thing.” The halfling pointed at two runes on the top of the copper box, or at least what was the top as it rested in her hand. “I have no idea what this puzzle box is for, what it does, how to use it, or what these symbols mean, but these two right here weren’t next to each other before.”
There was a long pause while Mattie studied her student’s face. “Are you sure?”
“Kinda hard not to be sure when I’ve been looking at this thing my entire life, and all of a sudden it starts changing things up on me.”
“Hmm.” Glancing at the box again, the professor shook her head. “I don’t know anything about the runes rearranging themselves on the surface.”
“More like the surface rearranged itself.” Cheyenne gripped opposite sides of the box and tried to turn them again. Of course, nothing happened. “This thing started spinning and freaking out. It shakes sometimes.”
“It shakes?”
“Yeah, like a giant egg about to hatch. Except, as far as I can tell, there’s only a light inside and a drow Bunsen burner.” Mattie shot her a blank look. “It gets hot.”
“Ah.”
“No idea what’s going on?”
Mattie chuckled. “Would you like me to lie to you and say I have a hunch, but it’s just not my place to share it with you?”
It was the halfling’s turn to stare at her professor blankly.
“Sorry.” The older woman lifted a hand to her chaotically piled hair, then shrugged. “I don’t know anything about those artifacts beyond what I told you the other day. It’s a drow legacy, an old tradition, and a pretty well-kept secret even among magicals on the other side. You’re the one who has to figure out how to use it. That’s the way it works.”
“Great.” Cheyenne tucked the puzzle box back into her backpack and zipped it back up. “This thing’s gonna end up burning my hands off before I can figure out what it does.”
Mattie gritted her teeth, clamped a hand on the semi-charred armrest, and sighed. “But I might know someone who can tell you more.”
Cheyenne’s head jerked back up, and she stared at the woman with wide eyes before breaking into a grin. “That’s a start.”
“Maybe. Don’t get your fancy Goth pants in a twist.” The halfling snorted as Mattie pushed herself out of the chair and headed toward her desk. She didn’t seem nearly as wobbly anymore. “I knew a Raug back in the day. Kind of a nutcase, but I guess that’s what happens when someone’s spent a lifetime filling their head with random, seemingly useless facts.”
“You’re sending me to a Raug encyclopedia for something like this?” Cheyenne stood and
slung her backpack over her un-black-magicked shoulder.
“If I can find him, okay?” Leaning over her desk, Mattie reached out to sift through the loose papers, frowned, and shook her head. “And that’s gonna take me a while. It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to the guy, and I can’t guarantee he’ll remember me or want to do me a favor by talking to you. But I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’m good with that. Thanks.” As she crossed Professor Bergmann’s office again, the halfling felt a little weird about getting ready to leave less than an hour after arriving. Guess that means I get to level up with the magic training. Just maybe not with Mattie.
When she felt Cheyenne standing there behind her, Mattie slowly turned away from her desk and raised her eyebrows. “I’ll send you an email if I hear back from him.”
“No problem.” They stared at each other again.
“Is there something else you want to say, or…” The professor spread her arms, looking at the drow halfling like Cheyenne had just revealed a troll side, too.
“Yeah. Know anything about surprise magic?”
Mattie’s gaze fell to her student’s shoulder and the not-quite-oozing holes in it. “Did you surprise your shoulder?”
“No, someone else had an issue with my shoulder. And I’m pretty sure that falls into the category of things you told me not to tell you.” Cheyenne turned toward the door to get those two holes out from under her professor’s scrutiny. “I’m talking about magic you didn’t know you had but can somehow use at random times.”
“Huh. No, I can’t say I know a whole lot about that. Or even a little.” Mattie’s frown as she cocked her head made the half-drow feel like an idiot for even asking. “What can you do?”
“Who knows? Some kinda shield, I think. I hardly remember it and have no idea how to pull it back up when I want. Not that important, I guess.”
“Well, it probably is.” The professor let out a dry laugh. “And I wish I could help. Maybe if you had another drow who could walk you through the process, those answers wouldn’t be so hard to find.”
Cheyenne took a deep breath. “You know any other drow?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. Worth a shot.” Clapping her hands, the halfling nodded and headed toward the door. “Email me that Raug’s info. Don’t forget.”
“Top of my list, kid.”
“Right.” As she opened the office door, Cheyenne looked over her shoulder and added, “Good luck not leaking any more magic, huh?”
Mattie shot her a sarcastic glare and folded her arms. “I think I got the hang of it. Thanks for the well-wishes.”
“Yep. Just me in my infinite wisdom.” With a thumbs-up, Cheyenne opened the door and stepped out into the empty hallway. Mattie didn’t ask her to close the door again, so she didn’t. She headed back down the hall, wondering the hell kind of messages a Nightstalker graduate professor would be getting from the other side of the Border that had Mattie so confused about what the half-drow had been up to.
If Mattie’s her real name. Either she’s got an imaginary friend named Maleshi, or she was talking to herself and let more than a little magic slip out. You think you know a person…
Before she reached the doors out of the Computer Sciences building, her cell phone rang in the front pocket of her backpack. She shrugged off her pack and dropped into a squat to get to the thing on time. The sight of that stupid FRoE burner phone next to her personal smartphone made her grimace.
But seeing Ember’s name on her screen made all that crap disappear. Cheyenne accepted the call. “Hey, Em. What’s up?”
A sharp, strained breath came over the line, followed by a long, shuddering sigh. “Hey. You busy?”
Ember had definitely been crying. She probably still was, based on the three words she’d gotten out.
“I’m not doing anything,” Cheyenne replied. “What’s going on?”
“Can you…” A gross, wet sniff filled the halfling’s ear. “Oh, man. Can you come by the hospital? I just really… Uh, I need somebody to hang out with me for a while.”
“What happened?”
“I’m fine, Cheyenne. I mean, no, I’m not fine. Can I just—” Ember blew her nose with a long, grating honk. “Can we talk about it when you get here?”
“Definitely. I’ll leave right now.”
“Thanks.”
The line went dead, and Cheyenne frowned at her phone. She hadn’t heard Ember cry like that since freshman year, and that time, the girl hadn’t been lying in a hospital bed with a spinal injury from a gunshot wound.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Cheyenne almost ran down the hallway of the surgical recovery ward at VCU Medical Center toward Room 317. She couldn’t even begin to guess why Ember was so upset—not because her friend didn’t have a good reason for it but because she almost had too many.
Some of the nurses gave the drow halfling fleeting glances as she passed them in the hall. One of them recognized her and smiled. One of them looked like she wanted to make it illegal for anyone in all black with dangling chains and piercings to even step foot inside the hospital.
And that’s why I don’t do hospitals.
The door to Room 317 was cracked open, but Cheyenne knocked politely anyway before stepping inside. Fortunately, Ember was alone in the room, so at least it wasn’t an awkward “knock without waiting for a response” situation. She sat propped up against the elevated hospital bed, pillows and tissues strewn around her. Her cell phone was beside a faded-yellow plastic cup of water and a pitcher on the rolling bedside table, and her damp hair was clinging to Ember’s wet cheeks, forehead, and neck.
“Hey.” Cheyenne slipped off her backpack and set it gently against the wall below the window.
“Hi.” Ember blew her nose again and thumped her head against the pillow behind her. The tissue toppled from her hand to join the others scattered across the thin sheets over her legs and the floor.
Without a word, Cheyenne grabbed the tiny trashcan a hospital staffer thought it was a good idea to stick by the desk no one ever used instead of near the bed with the patient in it. She brought it with her to the highly uncomfortable armchair beside Ember’s bed, set it down, and gave her friend a sympathetic frown. “Want a hug or something?”
Ember’s laugh lasted only a second before wilting into not quite a sob. The half-drow didn’t need any more of a reply than that, so she leaned forward and wrapped Ember in a quick, careful hug. “Thanks for dropping everything to come watch me drown myself in tears and snot.”
They both laughed, and as Cheyenne pulled away to take a seat in the armchair, Ember smoothed her matted blonde hair away from her face, tore more tissues out of the box, and made a completely unnecessary and almost useless attempt to clean herself up. This time, though, she noticed the trashcan by the bed and used it.
“I didn’t actually have to drop anything.” The halfling pulled her legs up under her to cross them on the chair. “I mean, even if I did, I’d still be here right now.”
“I know. I’m glad you weren’t busy, then.” Ember frowned at the wadded, tear-stained hospital sheet in her lap, pulling at it weakly. “Makes me feel like less of a parasite.”
“Woah!” Cheyenne waited for her friend to explain what the hell that was supposed to mean, but Ember just swallowed and shook her head. “What happened, Em?”
“I bet you can guess.”
Although she bit back a laugh at that, it came out in a strangled choke. Ember shot her a confused look, and the halfling shrugged before counting it out on her fingers. “I mean, let’s see. You got shot at a skatepark by an orc asshole before all your other asshole friends left you for dead. Back surgery. Spinal injury. You’re third-generation fae on this side of the Border who can’t actually do magic. Your parents are dicks. Your best friend’s a drow halfling. And some asshat put that trashcan all the way on the other side of the room. It could be anything.”
For several seconds, Ember’s wide, glistening ey
es studied Cheyenne’s face in shock. Then she burst out laughing and grabbed another tissue. “Fair enough.”
“Let me know if I left something out. I’m keeping a running list.”
Ember shook her head, looked at the ceiling with a long sigh, and seemed to come out of her funk. “You covered everything. I just got off the phone with my dad.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cheyenne leaned forward over her crossed legs and clasped her hands. “Normally, I’d just assume it went like every other call with him. But you don’t usually get this upset about it.”
“Yeah, well, things have changed a little. For me, anyway.” Ember gestured around the hospital room. “And nothing’s changed for him at all.”
“He just keeps winning that blue ribbon for stability, huh?”
“Stability. Stupidity. They’re the same thing with him.” After downing the rest of the water in the cup and setting it back on the table, Ember went right back to fiddling with the sheets. “Don’t get me wrong, he sounded like a concerned parent when I was finally able to call him.”
“But he’s not coming down to see you.”
“I don’t think it even crossed his mind. And I wouldn’t have asked, anyway. I mean, I haven’t gone back to Chicago once since I moved out here for freshman year. And I’m pretty sure we’re both better off because of it.”
Cheyenne waited for her friend to get to the point. If she was talking around the problem like this, it must be pretty bad.
“So no, I wasn’t expecting some over-the-top reunion phone call. I wasn’t even planning on calling him again anyway, but I guess I thought…” Ember scrunched her eyes, rubbed them, and blinked. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. It was a dumb idea.”
“What did he say?”
“The usual.”
The halfling snorted and stood from the armchair just so she could drag it with one hand as close as it would get to the hospital bed. “Okay.”
