The Drow Hath Sent Thee

by Martha Carr

  A tiny smirk flickered along Ember’s lips. “Pretty accurate, though, right? In comparison, I mean.”

  Cheyenne flicked her gaze up and slowly shook her head. “Not funny right now.”

  “Okay, fine. I get it. You don’t want to stretch your mind as far as it has to stretch to wrap around something like this. If I felt as bad as you look right now, I wouldn’t wanna think about anything either. Especially not Bianca in Ambar’ogúl.”

  “Jesus.”

  “But hear me out. Just for a second, okay?” Ember swung her legs off the couch and leaned over them, trying to hold her friend’s unsteady gaze. “You aren’t the vessel. I’m willing to put stock in that based on what happened to you when Venga thought you were. And I don’t care what you say, that’s not happening again.”

  “Em!”

  “I’m not done. Your cousin’s been coming to you in dreams, talking about the vessel. About putting two parts of a whole back together. I wouldn’t normally say the arrow points immediately to your mom, but she’s already neck-deep in this. Ba’rael’s curse is on her skin, Cheyenne, and she’s your mom. The only woman who managed to raise one of L’zar’s kids to ‘kick ass and overthrow the Crown’ status.”

  Both girls grimaced at the unwelcome visual of L’zar doing anything intimate with anyone.

  “You get the picture.”

  Cheyenne’s nostrils flared. “I wish I didn’t.”

  “And we can’t ignore the blazing sign that literally burned itself into your mom’s body. Vessel. You have a good explanation for how that’s just another random O’gúleesh rune like all the others?”

  “Em, I could write ‘troll hooker’ on my forehead, and that wouldn’t make me one.”

  The fae snorted. “Thank God.”

  When Cheyenne clenched her eyes shut and didn’t look even slightly amused, Ember straightened, her small smile disappearing. She really is in bad shape.

  “I think we should at least talk to someone else about this. Maybe even give it a try.”

  “No.” Cheyenne shook her head. “I’m not doing that to Bianca. She’s already been through way more than she should have because L’zar decided to fuck around with prophecies and his sister’s shitty pride or jealousy or whatever the hell it was. I’ll figure it out. I just need more time.”

  Ember cocked her head, wanting to scream at her friend to stop being so fucking stubborn. That might be more than she could handle right now, though. “It doesn’t look like you have a lot of time left, Cheyenne.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Sure, but I know I’ve never seen you look like that before.”

  “I’m fine.” Gritting her teeth against the pain, Cheyenne pushed out of the chair.

  “You’re very obviously not,” Ember countered.

  “I probably just need some food or something.” Her right leg wobbled beneath her weight and the dizzying jolt of pain bursting through her hip. She stumbled sideways to the other recliner and slapped her hands down on the leather to keep from falling. Her other leg bumped the armrest and her trenchcoat, and the two vials in the pocket clinked against each other.

  Cheyenne froze and glared down at her jacket.

  Ember was on her feet now, with an inch between them and the floor. “What is that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t do that.” The fae floated around the coffee table, eyeing the trenchcoat. “You tell me all the things, remember? ‘Nothing’ is the excuse you use for everyone else.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Em.” Cheyenne straightened and reached down for her coat.

  The trenchcoat flashed with violet light, whisked away from the recliner, and settled into Ember’s outstretched hand. They stared at each other for a moment, then Ember raised her eyebrows. “Guess you should go eat something. Might make you a little faster.”

  Cheyenne rolled her eyes as Ember shoved her hand into the correct pocket on the first try. The two potion vials glinted under the overhead lights, and the fae studied them before using them to point at her friend. “Party favors from a demon?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know.”

  Ember tossed the trenchcoat back on the recliner and studied the vials. “Somehow, I’m not feelin’ this whole ‘bane-breaker gave me potions but didn’t say shit about what they’re for’ vibe.”

  “And I’m not feeling this whole ‘let’s interrogate Cheyenne and go through her stuff because we can cast spells’ vibe, either.”

  “You know what?” Ember eyed her friend. “If we don’t figure out how to heal you, I’m sure you’ll be feeling a dead vibe. Probably soon. In case you haven’t noticed, that’s why I’m interrogating you and going through your stuff. No dead vibes. Got it?”

  Cheyenne had to look away as she muttered, “I’m fine.”

  “What are these for?”

  “I have no idea. Inolu told me, but I’m not into trusting magical shut-ins who might have OCD and definitely don’t have a social filter.”

  Ember snorted. “So, you’re second-guessing yourself then too, huh?”

  “No.” Cheyenne dipped her head. “Okay, that does kinda sound like me sometimes, but I’m talking about the bane-breaker.”

  “Just tell me what they’re for, Cheyenne. Or what she said they’re for.”

  “Fine. The brown one’s for Bianca. To make her strong for the crossing, or whatever.”

  Ember looked down at the vials and raised her eyebrows. “Huh. That’s kinda cool. And the purple one?”

  “It’s a healing potion.” The words came out in a rushed mumble as Cheyenne brushed past the recliner and half-stumbled, half-limped to the bathroom.

  “She gave you a healing potion, and you haven’t taken it yet?” Ember floated after her. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m gonna take a shower.”

  “Not before you take this.” Ember moved faster, trying to get to the bathroom before Cheyenne did. “Seriously, Cheyenne. You don’t think a healing potion from a magical who deals strictly in curses and spends at least half her time getting rid of them won’t help you?”

  “Nope.” Cheyenne grabbed the bathroom doorknob, opened the door, and froze when violet light flared in front of her and slammed the door shut again. “Not cool.”

  “Take the potion.”

  “No way.” Opening the door again, Cheyenne shot Ember a disgusted frown over her shoulder. “I’m not putting anything in my body that that crazy chick handed over for fun. She’s possessed. And she didn’t charge me for it, so it can’t be that helpful.”

  “Or maybe she knows what’ll happen if you don’t take it and doesn’t give a shit about the money.” The bathroom door slammed shut again, followed quickly by the rush of the showerhead.

  Ember turned halfway to the kitchen, then stopped to glare at the bathroom door. Maybe she cared about you not being poisoned by the blight and that stupid, hard-ass drow head that apparently runs in the family. It’s like you don’t even want to get better.

  With a frustrated snort, she floated back to the couch and slumped down on it. Ember’s legs lifted up onto the cushions again with a flash of violet light, and she stared at the two five-inch vials in her hands. She wouldn’t let that shit kill her just to keep her mom out of this. Right?

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  A shower was supposed to be quick, simple, and practical. Cheyenne’s wasn’t any of those things. She couldn’t stop thinking about the Underman’s glowing grin as she tried to scrub away the dirt of the last few days and the creepiness of the last twenty-four hours, all while trying not to make any sudden movements that would make the pain in her shoulders and hips even worse. That was hard to do with a full head of hair needing to be shampooed, no matter what color it was.

  What the fuck was that thing, anyway? Said he’d been with Inolu for a long time. They had an arrangement. What kind of messed-up ritual does someone have to do to literally share their body with a thing like that?

  She shuddered wh
en she remembered the cold sharpness emanating from the Underman-Inolu’s hand when they’d reached for her face, even under the steaming-hot water. Yeah, I don’t think I wanna know.

  Toweling off wasn’t all that bad as long as she didn’t try to dry the hard-to-reach places, which was pretty much everywhere at this point. Cheyenne pulled her blow-dryer out of the drawer, plugged it in, then tried to lift the thing to her head. The blow-dryer clattered on the countertop five seconds later. Fuck this.

  With a towel wrapped loosely around her, she moved slowly out of the bathroom to her trenchcoat on the recliner and managed to pull her activator out of the pocket without the towel dropping to her feet.

  Ember looked up at her from the couch, hardly paying attention to her show on the TV with the volume turned way too low. “Feel better?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Huh. Maybe you should take a healing potion.”

  “I’m not taking anything right now, Em.” The drow shuffled toward her bedroom. “Not until I know for sure what’s in that vial.”

  “Yeah. I wonder what it could possibly be.”

  Cheyenne ignored her and closed the bedroom door. The towel dropped to the floor, and she stuck the activator behind her ear. The sharp pinch in her neck felt stronger this time, and her eyelids fluttered for seconds longer than they usually did when the tech synced up with her magic. But I can still use the damn thing. That’s all I need.

  She selected the command prompts for what she wanted, flicking her fingers around the room without having to move her arms. Dresser drawers opened to launch a shirt, pants, and underwear onto her bed. Her backpack unzipped itself, and the brown glass jar of darktongue salve spun end over end in the air before joining her outfit.

  At least that still worked.

  When the activator didn’t pull up any prompts for self-healing or instructions for poison-canceling spells, Cheyenne shook her head. Of course not. That would be way too easy.

  It did pull up spells for magicking her clothes onto her body in under twenty seconds. She brushed down the front of her long-sleeved black shirt with red lace around the collar and in a thick line down each arm. Shouldn’t get too used to that, but I’m sure this counts as a necessary exception.

  She sat down on the bed, reached for the jar of darktongue salve to unscrew the lid, and dipped her fingers into the glistening, sticky white salve. “Just sticking to what I know works. Mostly.”

  Then she steeled herself for what she knew hurt like a bitch every time.

  After twenty minutes of trying to drown out the sounds of Cheyenne enduring another application of darktongue salve, Ember didn’t even bother to open her eyes when her friend’s bedroom door opened. “Oh, good. You survived.”

  “Yeah.” Cheyenne stretched her neck as far as she could toward each shoulder and sniffed. “It works for now.”

  “And when it stops working?” Ember opened her eyes and watched the drow lumber across their apartment to the kitchen. “What are you gonna do then?”

  “I’ll figure it out, Em. Just like I always have.”

  Ember sat up on the couch and looked over the back of it with a frown. “You’re gonna have to make a choice sooner or later. You know, I have a feeling you’ll change your tune when you can’t get up and move around. When your magic stops working because the blight’s shut everything down. I’d like to avoid seeing you get to that place, though.”

  Cheyenne grimaced as she opened the fridge, her shoulder protesting even that much movement. She peeled down the collar of her shirt to take a quick look at the dart-hole. Shit. Being knocked around by a bane-breaker and getting pissed off and running out of serum make for one killer combination. And that was the worst choice of words.

  “I won’t get there.” She reached into the fridge for a takeout container. “What’s this?”

  “Italian.” Ember shrugged. “Felt kinda weird to cook something when I couldn’t decide if you’d been blown up, strangled by that poison, or just wanted everyone to leave you alone.”

  The drow snorted. “I wouldn’t ignore that many phone calls and texts on purpose.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s why it was weird.” Ember nodded when her friend raised the container with a questioning glance. “Yeah, go ahead. I already ate breakfast.”

  “With Matthew?”

  Ember stared at her as Cheyenne popped the container into the microwave and tried to hide that the darktongue salve hadn’t worked to take down the pain. “Only because he brought it to me.”

  “So you could answer his other questions over coffee and a scone, huh?”

  “Actually, it was a breakfast sandwich from the deli across the street. Really freakin’ good, too.”

  Cheyenne glanced at her friend with a small smile. “How’d he take it?”

  “Despite how surprised I am that you even care, he took it pretty well.” Ember slung her arms over the back of the couch to hold herself up and peer over it into the kitchen. “I mean, yesterday was pretty much me just giving him the facts about the colonel, the war machines, and what we found out before and after we stormed into that showroom to stop him. I don’t think he was expecting anything close to what I told him.”

  “Who would?”

  “True.”

  The microwave beeped, and Cheyenne took out the steaming container of leftover chicken cacciatore before rummaging loudly through the silverware drawer for a fork. “And he came back this morning?”

  “To ask questions. I guess he needed a few hours to let it all settle before he could wrap his mind around what he still wanted to know.”

  Blowing on a hot forkful, Cheyenne leaned far over the kitchen island and her leftovers so she wouldn’t have to lift the fork farther than her aching shoulder could handle. “What did you tell him about me?”

  Ember let out a surprised laugh. “What?”

  “Not to say you guys don’t have anything better to talk about. There are some things I don’t necessarily want him to know about that night.”

  “You mean like the fact that you have a magical poison spreading through your body, the Bull’s Head made a drow-paralyzing agent specific to your DNA, and the combination almost got you shot in the head by Les Thomas?”

  Cheyenne almost choked on her mouthful and leaned farther over the container. “Yeah, Em. Like that.”

  “No.” The fae pursed her lips, trying to hide a smile, and shook her head. “I didn’t tell our neighbor about all your personal issues.”

  “Okay. And I appreciate it.” Their apartment fell silent for the next three minutes while Cheyenne shoveled warm chicken and tomato sauce and noodles into her mouth. She finally had to stop to get herself a glass of water, and when she returned to the island, Ember was still watching her intently. “I’m not gonna keel over while eating your leftovers, Em.”

  “Hey, neither of us knows that for sure, do we?”

  The drow chugged half her water and gave the weakest, lamest shrug possible. I can’t even use body language with this crap inside me. This sucks. “So, what are you gonna do with the neighbor guy?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you invited him over for breakfast.”

  “I didn’t invite him. He texted me and asked if we could go over some more things. Then he offered to bring food.” When Cheyenne went back to eating the rest of her re-heated meal, Ember sighed. “I’m kind of giving him a second chance.”

  “Huh. How does that work, exactly?”

  “I don’t know, okay? I mean, his brain practically exploded yesterday when I spilled the beans about his uncle. And he kept apologizing the whole time.” Ember snorted. “Both cute and annoying. I had to tell him to shut up so I could finish talking.”

  “Good call.”

  “I don’t know how to read him.” Ember slid back down on the couch and leaned against the armrest again. “He took way too long to give up any information we could use when we needed it. And he seems like he wants to help, like he
wants to make sure something like a FRoE official commissioning war machines from Ba’rael’s Earthside thugs never happens again. But he’s not the guy I thought he was when we met.”

  “Well, don’t beat yourself up too much.” Cheyenne licked the fork clean, tossed the empty container in the trash, and dropped the fork into the dishwasher with a clink. “You’ve only known the guy a few weeks.”

  “I know that. And I’m not beating myself up.” Ember rolled her eyes. “I liked having a cool neighbor who was fun to hang out with while you ran all over Virginia doing your ‘secret double life as an unofficial FRoE agent’ thing.”

  Cheyenne walked slowly to the second recliner and reached for her jacket. “You’re not gonna mention the part about you being head-over-heels for our billionaire tech mogul right across the hall?”

  Ember scoffed. “Yeah, okay. And he’s nice to look at. Trust me, though. I’m not heartbroken or pining for the guy. I’d be able to forget about the whole thing a lot easier if he didn’t live right across the hall.”

  “True.” When trying to slip into her trenchcoat didn’t pan out, Cheyenne grunted and selected the activator’s prompted spell to magic the thing onto her instead. “He might be useful for other things, once we fix this whole ‘two dying worlds’ thing.”

  The fae’s eyes widened. “That’s one awesome spell.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Cheyenne stuck her hands in her pockets and felt around to make sure she had everything. “I’d offer to show you how, but…”

  “Activator. I get it.” Ember gave her a once-over. “Going somewhere?”

  “Yeah.” With a grimace, the drow pointed at the door with her thumb. “Got a call from Major General Van Lurig’s hotshot personal secretary. Same FRoE official who interrogated me when L’zar got out. One of them, at least. They want a debriefing about the other night.”

  Ember sucked in a breath through her teeth and wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like a real mood-killer.”

  “Tell me about it.” Despite how much she didn’t want to do this today, or at all, Cheyenne couldn’t hold back a wry laugh. “The lady threatened me in a voicemail. They’ll enact disciplinary protocols if I don’t show up.”