by Martha Carr
“Interesting.”
The skaxen slammed the canister into place, then hopped away from the machine to grab a black metal box from inside the open crate. “You wanna see how it works?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
With a shriek of glee, the skaxen smacked the side of the box, and a panel opened to reveal a small lever and multiple crude dials on the surface. His tongue flickering in and out between sharpened teeth, the rat-faced magical scanned the room and called, “Hey, Thel! Just so you know, I heard what you said about my face!”
A scarred gremlin spun around with wide eyes as the skaxen jerked down the box’s lever. “What are you doing, dae’bruj?”
The skaxen cackled as the launcher flared to life, whirring and clicking and flashing ribbons of yellow and orange light. The four legs beneath the launcher’s base stretched out and pinged on the floor before rising to their full height.
“Turn that shit off,” the gremlin screamed.
Faster than the bulky parts looked capable of moving, the launcher swiveled toward the gremlin, took two steps forward, and fired a burst of yellow-brown light. The gremlin screamed and dodged out of the way, shoving other loyalists aside as he darted across the reception hall to the open doors at the far end. The launcher whined and followed him with its swiveling head, but the blood-tracker bolt it had fired was enough to get the job done. The yellow shot of magic zipped around the room, changing its course to head after the gremlin no matter which way he ran. He screamed when the yellow magic crashed into his back and sent him flying face-first across the floor. Yellow sparks darted across his body like an electrical current, and the gremlin jerked and bucked on the ground beneath the jolting attack until he finally fell still. He didn’t get up again.
Some of the loyalists burst out laughing. A troll roared and pumped his fist in the air.
“Incredible.” Colonel Thomas’ slow clap barely rose above the loyalists’ amusement as he grinned at the launcher. “Can it only be fired manually?”
“Not if your nephew’s system works the way you promised us it would.”
“Oh, it will.”
Welyk sneered at the man. “Then, sure. Every hunk of metal parts in this room can be automated for pretty much whatever you want.”
“Good. I like this one in particular.” The colonel shook a finger at the blood-tracker machine. “That’ll come in very useful.”
The gangly loyalist sniggered. “New training or something?”
“Training? No. This is quality control, Welyk.” Colonel Thomas stroked his chin, his smile growing. “The refugees taking up our resources at the Border reservations step out of line far more often than any of us expected in the beginning.”
Welyk gave a low chuckle. “Not as easy to control as humans, huh?”
“Not with human methods, no, but you’re helping me change that.”
“Sure. Easy to intimidate with something like this.”
“Indeed. I’m not above using force when it’s called for, even on my own. Much like yourself.”
They both turned to look at the dead gremlin lying face-down in front of the double doors. Welyk’s fanged grin returned. “That one was a pain in my ass anyway. So, does it hold up to your expectations, Colonel?”
“I think it does.” Thomas turned to Sir and the other FRoE agents watching the room with masks of indifference and snapped his fingers. “Get it.”
One agent moved swiftly through the open doors and returned with a large briefcase.
“I’m sure you understand the need for discretion with this,” the colonel said as he accepted the case and turned to Welyk. “And cash.”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting a stack of veréle,” the lanky magical muttered. The loyalists around him sniggered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing important, Colonel.” Welyk grinned, his tongue flicking between his fangs again. “These crates behind me have all the control cases you’ll need for each of these machines. If you find yourself wanting anything a little more specific after this, we’ll see what we can come up with for you.”
“Good to know.”
The skaxen came forward with the black control box clamped between his black-clawed orange hands. Welyk took it from him, then extended the box to the colonel and paused. “Before we finish this transaction, there’s one more thing I need from you.”
Colonel Thomas lifted his chin and faced the loyalist square-on, clasping the handle of the briefcase in front of him with both hands. “You gave me a price for these. I came here trusting you wouldn’t change the terms.”
“No, I’ll take the money. But all this talk about what’s been happening in your magical prison and outside of it got me thinking. I want everything you have on the halfling.”
The colonel briefly shook his head. “What halfling?”
Cheyenne held her breath. What a piece of shit. She wasn’t sure if she meant Welyk or the colonel or both.
Welyk sneered at the FRoE official and spread his arms. “The drow mór úcare, Colonel. Cheyenne Summerlin.”
“Oh.” Thomas turned to his gathered agents and gestured at Sir. “Major Carson has spent far more time with her than I have. Major?”
Sir swallowed thickly, one eye twitching. “Colonel?”
“Give this magical what he wants. Everything you have on the halfling.”
Mustache writhing, Sir stood rigidly and stared at his superior and the Bull’s Head scum leering at him.
Jesus, he looks like a fucking deer in the headlights. Cheyenne bit her bottom lip and glared down at Sir. If you start talking, I swear I’ll take you down.
“Major, this is hardly classified information,” Colonel Thomas said sharply. “And I don’t appreciate you hesitating on this. We’re closing on this deal, so start talking. Now.”
Sir cleared his throat and glanced at the ground. “Sir.”
“That’s an order, Major.”
Fuck this.
“The halfling—”
Cheyenne summoned two crackling spheres of black energy in her palms and slammed them against the window before Sir could get out another word. The entire pane of thick glass shattered, raining down on the gathered magicals and FRoE agents. Those directly beneath it darted out of the way, and Cheyenne leaped from the second-story balcony she’d created to land on a pile of glass.
Welyk snarled and raised his hand over the black control box in his palm. She swept it out of his grasp with a burst of telekinetic force and sent the box into the far wall.
“Guy Carson’s a fucking idiot.” Cheyenne shrugged and summoned two more energy spheres in her open palms. “And a traitor. You can’t trust anything that sprays out of his mouth. Why don’t you ask the halfling to her face?”
Colonel Thomas pressed his lips together and looked at her. “I think we’re done here.” He glanced at Sir and the other agents and nodded. “Take care of her, will you?”
“Don’t fucking move,” Rhynehart shouted from above. The Bull’s Head loyalists and Colonel Thomas’ band of trusted human agents looked up to find Rhynehart, Yurik, and Tate training their fell weapons on the gathered party. Then Jamal stomped through the open double doors on the north end of the reception hall, a rifle tucked under each arm. Todd moved quickly behind the ogre, holding the newly tested fell laser cannon with both hands. Bhandi filtered in behind him, decked out in full dampening gear, vest, helmet, and gloves. She passed Todd and slapped at his helmet to lower his visor for him before gripping her rifle again with both hands.
Colonel Thomas looked at Rhynehart with wide eyes. “I’m surprised to see you here, Captain.”
“Yeah, I bet you are.” Rhynehart didn’t move a muscle, his fell weapon trained on the center of the colonel’s chest.
Welyk snarled and darted for the control box on the ground. Cheyenne fired one of her energy spheres at the ground in front of the gangly loyalist’s feet, and he stopped short. “I don’t usually give warnings, but I’m trying t
o do things a little differently these days. Don’t fucking move again.”
His yellow eyes narrowed, and he slowly moved a hand to his hip for whatever he’d stashed in his pocket. But he didn’t try to slip past her again or attack, even when the other loyalists summoned their own attack spells in blue and orange sparks and jolts of yellow and red light. The air practically vibrated with so much magic drawn up and held in stasis, and everyone waited for someone else to make the first move.
“So here’s the thing, Colonel.” Cheyenne waited for the man to look at her again. “You get one chance to back away from this deal you almost made. Take your money and your idiot backup with you. Call this whole thing off, and I won’t have to take you down.”
Colonel Thomas chuckled. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands like that, Miss Summerlin. If this is all the backup you brought with you, you’re outnumbered at least five times over. And as I’m sure you overheard, these O’gúleesh have been looking for you.”
“Yeah, these guys have been looking for me for months. It’s nothing new.”
“I see.” The colonel’s gaze swept around the static-filled reception hall one more time, and he glanced briefly up at Rhynehart, Yurik, and Tate on the second floor. “I’m not in the habit of submitting to anyone else’s demands. This little display of yours doesn’t make you that much more intimidating.”
Cheyenne blinked slowly. Jesus, it’s like this guy wants to fight. “I’m not trying to be intimidating, Colonel. I’m trying to give you an out. How hard is that to understand?”
“Well, thank you for clarifying. I don’t need an out.” Colonel Thomas turned to Sir again and nodded. “Major. Remove her.”
Major “Sir” Carson bristled, his eyes bulging and his face turning its usual deep crimson that meant he was either very drunk or very pissed or both.
“This isn’t a discussion, Major Carson.” The colonel widened his eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d forgotten how to follow the chain of command.”
With a low growl, Sir turned to Cheyenne and started to draw his firearm. His mistake was looking up to meet the drow halfling’s glowing golden eyes as he did so. Cheyenne tilted her head and stared him down. Don’t you fucking do it, Guy. You know what I’ll do to you.
Sir swallowed and went perfectly still.
“What the hell is going on?” Colonel Thomas shouted. “Carson! I said—”
“He heard what you said.” Cheyenne turned her attention to the colonel again. “He’s not gonna do what you want. Which is surprising, seeing as he’s been doing what you want for a long time, apparently.”
“I don’t know who you think you are.”
“Well, lucky for both of us, I know exactly who I am.” Her energy spheres crackled with intensifying black and purple light and grew to twice their usual size in her hands. “If you wanna find out the hard way, keep being a dick. I’m giving you an option.”
“You said that, and I said I don’t—”
“Yeah, you don’t submit to demands. I get it. How are you with blackmail?”
“What?”
The reception hall fell eerily silent except for Sir’s heavy breathing and the crackle and hiss of so many attack spells held at the ready in so many hands, just waiting to be let loose.
“Step down from your position, Colonel.” Cheyenne raised her eyebrows. “Leave the FRoE. You’re basically at the top, right? So there won’t be a bunch of hoops to jump through. Walk away, and I won’t send this video to anyone who will make you step down. Trust me, I’ll use it to end you if you don’t take my offer. I’m sure Major Carson can back me up when I say I don’t bluff.”
Colonel Thomas’ nostrils flared as he glared at her. “Except for now.”
“Nope. I have this whole meeting tonight recorded.”
“Bullshit.”
In a fraction of a second, Cheyenne selected her activator’s command to share everything up to this point with one specific private number. The jingle of an annoying piano-keys ringtone cut through the silence in the reception hall. She glanced at the colonel’s jacket pocket. “Sounds like you got a message. You should probably check that.”
Colonel Thomas jammed his hand into his pocket and whipped out his cell phone. His eyes widened, then he pressed the play button and the video came up on his screen.
“I had a few of my guys surveil the premises. Just a standard precaution. You know.” Les Thomas’ recorded voice came through loud and clear as the video played.
“Everything we’ve got is right here in this room. Colonel.”
“I believe you. I just don’t think either of us would be pleased to find ourselves joined by a third party.”
“No. We wouldn’t be.”
With a snarl, the colonel stopped the video and shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Whatever you think you’re going to do with that, you’ve overestimated yourself.”
Cheyenne snorted. “I don’t think so.”
“You won’t leave this building tonight, Miss Summerlin, and your little home movie dies with you.”
“That’s a no, then, right? You’re not gonna step down and take the easy way out?”
“Major Carson!” the colonel barked. “If you don’t pull your head out of whatever hole you’ve buried it in, I will ruin you. Take her out!”
Sir cleared his throat, blinking rapidly, and finally found at least part of his voice. “With all due respect, Colonel, I don’t think this—”
“I’m the one who does the thinking.” Les Thomas stormed toward Guy Carson until they stood toe to toe. “Respect or no, Carson, I’ve had enough of your insubordination. Don’t forget how much you have at stake in this.”
Sir stared straight ahead as his ranking officer fumed in his face. “Sir, I don’t—”
“You do because I say you do. How do you think Alice will feel when she finds out about everything you’ve been doing over the last thirty years? That you’ve been lying to her all this time? It would kill her, wouldn’t it?”
Sir’s eyes flicked to the colonel’s, twitching almost uncontrollably now, but he didn’t say a word.
“This transaction tonight will be completed, Carson, whether you like it or not. These magicals, all of them, don’t belong in our world. You know that as well as I do. I’m not backing down until I have them either under my thumb exactly the way I want, or we toss their asses back where they came from. If I can’t keep them out, I will keep them in line, you understand? So, Major, do your job and keep this halfling bitch in line.”
“Sir.”
“And these agents under your command! We are the ones who own this world, Carson. Not them.”
“It’s all bullshit, Major,” Rhynehart called from the second story, stepping forward with his fell rifle aimed at Colonel Thomas’ chest. “He’s not gonna use all this for magicals. Not even for current agents. He sent a fucking machine to my house to take me out, and I’ll do whatever I have to.”
Sir moved faster than any of them expected. He released his firearm from its holster and swung up to the second story. A second later, the report of a single shot cracked through the room, and Rhynehart staggered backward with a shout. The rifle hung by his side from one hand, the other rendered useless by the bullet that had lodged in his shoulder outside the safety of his bulletproof dampening vest.
Guess we’ll have matching scars.
“What the fuck?” Yurik shouted, though he didn’t remove his eye from the scope of his own rifle. “Rhynehart?”
“Fuck.” The human agent staggered against the wall of the corridor on the second story. “Shoulder. I’m fine.”
“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Bhandi screamed, stepping forward to stand squarely beside Jamal, her rifle centered on Sir.
Sir gritted his teeth, breathing heavily and seething as he aimed his weapon at Todd. “That’s not up for debate.”
“Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system,” Colonel Thomas muttered, “I sugge
st you continue with the rest of it.”
“Move, and I’ll blow your fucking brains out!” Tate shouted from above.
Cheyenne scanned the room: the tense FRoE agents and their commanding officers, Welyk and his sneering Bull’s Head loyalists, their faces shimmering the colored light from their spells, and the deactivated war machines waiting to be purchased and used against the O’gúleesh who made the crossing as refugees, not prisoners. We can call this an O’gúleesh standoff, right?
Then her activator pulled up movement in the top right corner of her vision. And the left. One after another, multiple blinking yellow arrows appeared in her vision, moving closer to the reception hall and picking up speed. Somebody finally activated the spy machines. And here I thought we had a chance of walking away without a fight.
“Major Carson,” Colonel Thomas muttered.
Cheyenne’s activator blared an alarm when a scuttling war machine like a two-foot-long spider crawled silently along the wall to her left and climbed up to the second floor. Her hand lashed out and sent a double-sized black energy sphere into the machine. The metal spider squealed when she knocked it to the ground, sparking and hissing mechanically as its legs scrambled to find purchase upside down.
The next two seconds of stunned silence seemed to last forever. Yeah, now we’re in for it.
Then the walls and the floor and all the dark corners of the reception hall moved as the dozens of other small war machines abandoned their stealth sequences and streamed toward Cheyenne and her rebel team of FRoE agents instead of O’gúleesh magicals.
Welyk snarled, spit flying from his sharpened fangs as he launched a bolt of flashing light across the room. Then all hell broke loose.
Chapter Forty-Seven
