The Drow Hath Sent Thee

by Martha Carr

  “You think they’re gonna step back and let you drive the whole FRoE ship?”

  “Well, yeah. ‘Cause their system’s totally broken, and I’m the one who figured it out. Plus, the whole drow royalty thing gives me a leg up with the Earthborn magicals working as agents. They’ll want to know about where they came from and all the shit they’re missing out on by not being able to make the crossing because that’s their job. Give the magical agents activators. Hand them out to the refugees coming fresh into this world after making the crossing. Show them how to use the tech, ‘cause it’ll obviously be different with a human program running the show. Probably won’t be as good as what I’ve got, but it’s something, and it’s a hell of a lot more than any magical, O’gúleesh or Earthborn, has been getting from the top down. Not when Colonel Thomas has been at the top and playing footsie with fucking O’gúl loyalists for the last five years.”

  “Or longer.”

  “Yeah. Or longer.”

  Ember folded her arms and tilted her head, studying her friend’s growing smile as Cheyenne envisioned the whole thing. “I’m surprised you’re a lot more into this than being the O’gúl Crown.”

  “Why?”

  “I mean, ‘cause it’s the Crown.”

  Cheyenne waved her off. “Anyone can be the Crown, Em. Obviously. Persh’al will do a hell of a lot better job than I would. He knows that world. And I know this one. Plus, there’s no one else who can do what I can do over here. As far as the old laws go, however the hell they work, I’m still L’zar’s daughter and heir to the throne. I still have a connection or whatever with the last Nimlothar. And I’m a halfling. Doesn’t matter if it’s the halfling part or because I’m the drow heir who broke L’zar’s ‘all your kids will die’ prophecy, I’m still the only magical who can bring advanced tech across the Border. I’m the only halfling with L’zar’s blood and the extra burst of Sorren Gán magic that came with it.”

  “And you can see the Weave in tech.”

  Quickly lifting her head, Cheyenne met her friend’s gaze and laughed. “Yeah, I can see the Weave in tech. More like I can see the Matrix, right?”

  Ember wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I don’t think so. I mean, you get points for having seen those movies, only the Matrix isn’t real. Magic is.”

  “Whatever. I’ll figure out what to call it eventually.”

  “Oh, you mean something like, ‘you can see the Weave in tech?’”

  “Nope.” Cheyenne thumped her head back down on the headrest. “The Weave is L’zar’s deal, and I’m not trying to walk anywhere close to his footsteps. I’ll think of something.”

  “Maybe it’ll come to you when you stage your second coup in a month and overthrow the leaders of the FRoE. You know, rewriting things again from the inside out, only on this side of the Border.”

  “Maybe. It’s gonna happen, though, Em. I think I’ve figured out what I’m supposed to do. Like my place, or whatever. Helping out the O’gúleesh who come over here and think the FRoE is the be-all-end-all on this side, except the FRoE was started by dumbasses like Sir, who don’t even know how magic works. I get to change that.”

  “Good thing you’re used to having your work cut out for you.”

  “Ha. For real.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Cheyenne woke the next morning with her regular scowl and the memory of dreams that made her skin crawl. She tossed the thick purple velvet comforter off and sat up with a groan. I take it back. Prophecy dreams are way better than whatever the fuck that was.

  As she reached for her cell phone on the nightstand, the image of Bianca and L’zar in the master bedroom on the Summerlin estate came back to her from her dream. She shook her head vigorously and snatched up her phone. Out of my head. That’s it.

  At 7:05, she had almost three and a half hours until she had to be on the VCU campus to teach her undergrad class. No, she didn’t have to rush through the morning, but now she had three hours for this damn dream to keep floating around in her head.

  The smell of freshly brewing coffee tugged her out of bed, and she shuffled out of her room and toward the kitchen, scratching her head and mussing her already perfect bedhead. “Coffee ready?”

  “Hey. Morning.” Ember turned away from the kitchen counter and froze when she saw the halfling lumbering across the living room. “Rough night?”

  “Just the part where I’m apparently dreaming about L’zar and Bianca.”

  “Doing what?”

  Cheyenne shot her friend a pointed glare and raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh. Oh, ew.” Ember shook her head and turned back to the cabinets. Purple light flashed from her fingertip and around a second coffee mug before she directed the cup down on the counter beside the coffeemaker. “That’s not right.”

  “Like I don’t already know that.” Cheyenne stopped at the kitchen island and dropped her forearms onto the granite countertop, leaning sleepily forward. “That kinda shit doesn’t leave any room for a good night’s sleep.”

  “I bet.” Ember grabbed the coffee pot and filled a mug for each of them. The coffeemaker hissed and gurgled when she returned the pot, then she spun around and offered Cheyenne a cup.

  The halfling took the coffee and couldn’t force the grimace off her face even as she took the first steaming sip.

  “You want anything in that?”

  “Nope.” Cheyenne stared at the coffee. Nothing’s gonna cover up the bad taste of dreaming about my parents like that.

  “Did you pick up on that kinda vibe between them?” Ember tossed a hand at the fridge, and the door opened and the bottle of flavored creamer sailed into her hand with a flash of violet light. “I mean, when we were there.”

  “Are you kidding? No. No way. The only thing between them now is that one night twenty-one years ago and the fact that I’m their kid. That’s it. This dream doesn’t mean shit.”

  “I mean, at the very least, now you know how totally uncool you’d be with it if they…you know.”

  “Stop. I can’t think about this anymore.”

  “Sure.” Ember stirred her coffee and stared at her friend. “Caffeine’ll help.”

  “Probably not.” And why the hell am I having this kind of dream in the first place? Must be something seriously wrong with me, beyond the usual. The halfling sipped the hot, bitter coffee again and scowled at the granite countertop. I have way more important shit to think about today.

  After breakfast, a quick shower, and finding something to wear that didn’t rub the black streaks around her unhealing wounds in unbearable ways, Cheyenne went through her backpack to double-check that whatever she might need was there. I spend two days in Ambar’ogúl, and everything feels out of place over here when I get back.

  “So.” Ember tied her purple-streaked hair up in a loose bun and sank onto the couch. “Anything you need me to handle while you’re out playing Goth grad student?”

  “The whole point is that I’m trying not to play anything, Em.”

  “Yeah, I know. Keeping all your options open. Doesn’t it seem a little weird, though? That you’re still going back and forth, trying to juggle both?”

  Cheyenne zipped up her backpack with two quick jerks. “Maleshi’s doing it.”

  “Maleshi’s been here for a few thousand years, trying to keep up a human routine. And she’s not the drow halfling heir who has frenemies in the FRoE and can bring O’gúl tech across the border.”

  “None of which is gonna help me down the road when all this settles down.”

  “Oh. Because you’ll totally need a job once your philanthropy with O’gúleesh refugees is over and done with.”

  Cheyenne dropped her backpack on the couch and frowned at her friend. “Why is this bothering you?”

  “I don’t know.” Ember shrugged. “I know that I’m a lot happier without having to juggle a spinal injury, being your Nós Aní, going to grad school full time, and trying to be a magical Earthside where the majority of the population doesn’
t even know we exist. I mean, sure, I’m only dealing with two outta four right now, but it’s kinda nice knowing I don’t have to split up my time. Also, yes, thanks to you. ‘Cause it’s not like I need a job, either.”

  “I don’t care about the money, Em.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t wanna be relying on my perceived reputation as L’zar’s daughter or the Black Flame or the halfling whatever for the rest of my life.”

  “And going through grad school where you know more about computers and cybersecurity and programming than any of the faculty is gonna get you something more reliable than that?”

  “Maybe.” Cheyenne paused and let out a heavy sigh. “Probably not.”

  “Good. You’re finally being honest.”

  “Look, I don’t know what going through grad school is gonna get me at this point, okay? It seemed like the best idea before everything with L’zar and the FRoE fell into my lap.”

  Ember dug into the box of crackers in her lap before popping one in her mouth with a crunch. “I think you fell into their laps.”

  “Whatever. It hasn’t even been two months. I get it. And it’s not like it’s all day every day. Four and a half hours a week. It’s a joke.”

  “But the joke’s important enough to keep doing it?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know, but I can’t drop out to clear my time for the rest of this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t do that.”

  Ember tilted her head. “I’m confused.”

  “I don’t quit shit I start, Em. That’s not what I do.”

  “Even if it’s giving you absolutely no benefit?”

  “It’s a means to an end.”

  “What end?”

  “Will you stop?” It came out louder than Cheyenne intended, and she stared at Ember with wide eyes, half in irritation, half in shock.

  Ember returned the stare, then shrugged and stuck another cracker in her mouth. “Trying to get some perspective.”

  “I think I’m the only one who needs perspective about my choices. At least the ones that don’t have the fate of two entire worlds and everyone living in them on the line.”

  “Sure. You want a normal, boring, slightly-more-than-advanced graduate experience to balance out all the weird shit.” Ember grinned. “You could’ve started with that.”

  Despite her irritation, Cheyenne laughed. “If I’d realized that’s what this was, I would’ve started with that, yeah.”

  “Then you learned something, so it’s a conversation worth having.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Shaking her head, Cheyenne lifted her backpack and strapped it over her shoulders. She grimaced at the added pressure on the dart wounds beneath the straps and pulled them away from her chest. “Backpack’s not such a great idea.”

  “Do you need it?”

  “Computer, wallet, phone, jar of darktongue salve, and the injection canister just in case. Yeah, I kinda need the backpack. I’m not buying a fucking purse.”

  Ember snorted. “Okay, then.”

  “Okay, so I’ll be back at like noon, probably. You want me to grab anything while I’m out?”

  “Nope. I’ll hang out here, like every day. Doin’ my own thing.”

  Cheyenne glanced at the door. She doesn’t sound all that happy about it. “Okay.”

  “Oh, hey. Here’s an idea.” Ember sat up straighter. “Maybe I need my own car.”

  “Like, right now? Or are you talking about when your legs finish healing?”

  The fae snorted. “Come on. I know I can’t technically press on the pedals, but that never stopped magic from doing what it’s supposed to do.”

  “Huh. I wonder how many magicals use spells to drive cars on this side? No activators for that, Em.”

  “Well, yeah, but still. I can make coffee with magic. Driving a car shouldn’t be that much different.”

  Cheyenne snorted. “Foolproof logic, Em. You know, if you want me to buy you a car, come out and say it.”

  Ember’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Would you buy me a car?”

  “I don’t know.” Cheyenne shrugged before turning to the door. “It’s a thought, though.”

  “Oh, sure. In this instance, I don’t think it’s the thought that counts.”

  “See you in a few hours, Em.”

  Ember’s laughter spilled through the door and followed Cheyenne down the hall to the elevator.

  Once the elevator doors closed behind her to take her down to the apartment building’s lobby, Cheyenne reached into her pocket for her car keys and stopped. Shit. The car’s with Lee. She pulled her activator from her pocket and stuck it behind her ear before slipping into drow mode. A short, simple thought brought up three different options for the spell she wanted.

  Yes. Human illusion. Thank you.

  Cheyenne flicked her fingers to select the command, and a surge of drow magic flowed up her spine and through her fingers as she cast the spell with gestures she didn’t understand. She didn’t even need words. The purple-gray flesh of her hand shimmered with silver light before fading into her human-pale tone. She turned her hand over a few times and smiled. I love this thing.

  The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out into the perpetually empty lobby at the Pellerville Gables Apartments complex in full drow mode without looking full drow. Her black Vans made little noise on the marble floors, and as soon as she stepped through the glass front doors, she turned the corner and headed around to the back of the building. Sure, it might be weird to enter drow speed looking like Cheyenne the Goth grad student, but hey, it’s the same blur, just in reverse.

  She smiled at her intensely pale skin and stopped at the back of the building in front of the pressure-washed white-brick wall surrounding the dumpster. And I don’t have to worry about anybody seeing a drow face at the wrong second. Here we go.

  The air crackled around her when she slipped into enhanced speed and darted away from the apartment complex on the far north end of Richmond. A gust of dry, fallen leaves and loose pebbles on the asphalt kicked up behind her and pelted the wall around the dumpster, but no one was there to see the Goth girl disappear in a blur of black and white.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Cheyenne dropped out of drow speed behind the computer sciences building on the VCU campus, which happened to be on the north end. The shockwave of her sudden stop pulled more leaves and bits of dry grass and a Taco Bell wrapper toward her, as well as whipping her black hair around her face. She turned around to make sure she hadn’t missed any unsuspecting witnesses, but no one else was hanging out behind the building.

  That was awesome. She grinned and smoothed the hair away from her face. I didn’t even have to stop once. Getting better at this every day.

  Taking a quick scan of the parking lot with her activator, which didn’t bring up anything, war machines, or otherwise, she shrugged and stepped between the computer sciences building and its neighbor. So far, so good. I know I can’t keep relying on this thing forever. Officially learning spells is on the to-do list—after I take care of everything else on my plate.

  The sound of low conversation drifted to her on the breeze whistling between the buildings, but it sounded off somehow. Subdued. It’s Monday. I get it. But Mondays are usually a lot louder.

  As soon as she stepped out of the narrow alley, Cheyenne stopped and scanned the quad stretching in front of the computer sciences building. The quad was packed with as many students as usual for 10:20 a.m. on any day of the week, but they all moved slowly, awkwardly, turning around to stare at the other students walking toward or away from them or glancing at the sky like there was something important up there they’d forgotten.

  “Okay.” Frowning, Cheyenne walked around the building to the front doors. She swept her gaze across the quad one more time and finally found the problem. “Oh, shit.”

  The newly sprouted portal ridge she’d managed to close a few weeks before while Maleshi helped shred up the attacking war
machines was no longer manned by a bunch of Sir’s FRoE agents dressed as emergency response team members. Someone on the VCU grounds crew had done their best to patch the giant rift in the grass, and all that remained of the portal that had never quite opened was a mound of new bright-green sod standing out from the darker-green grass of the quad starting to brown a little with the autumn chill. The new sod didn’t do a thing to keep the dark, smoky wisps of black light from seeping out of the closed portal and into the air.

  Grimacing, Cheyenne selected her activator’s command prompt for zooming in on that brighter mound of grass to take a closer look. Damn.

  The thin, smoky tendrils had pale O’gúl symbols that scrolled up and down before the smoke eventually dissipated in the air. But it’s not disappearing.

  As if to prove her point, a kid wearing a giant puffy jacket, a scarf, and a thick woolen beanie walked down the path cutting through the quad. His eyes were clear as he hurried to his next class, but the closer he got to the invisibly leaking Border portal, the more he slowed down. He stopped directly across from the mound of new grass spewing leftover blight and in-between crap into the air and blinked.

  “Hey!” Cheyenne whistled loudly, and the kid turned his head to her in a daze. “You have a class to get to?”

  “I think so?” The kid tilted his head at her and frowned, then spun slowly around to look for his answer behind him.

  “Maybe hurry up,” she called, studying anything and everything the activator could pull up for her about the leaking portal that was supposed to be dead. Just more fucking blight spilling over into Earth, and now it’s in the air. She shoved her hands into her pockets and trudged down the sidewalk to the building’s front entrance. And apparently, it does weird shit to humans.