Realm of Infinite Night (Goth Drow Unleashed Book 3)

by Martha Carr

  “Shut up.” Rhynehart still wouldn’t meet her gaze but intently watched the ogre, dressed in the black fatigues, lumbering with surprising speed down the walkway toward them. The big guy had to duck under the overhanging gutter above the porch, then he straightened again and stood in front of the door. Staring at the olive-green siding of the house, Rhynehart leaned toward Cheyenne and whispered, “Do that X-ray vision thing, huh?”

  “Who are you looking for in there?”

  “I didn’t bring you here to answer your goddamn questions, halfling,” he hissed, keeping his voice just barely at whisper volume. “Just do the damn thing and tell me what you see.”

  The halfling lifted both hands in surrender and dipped her head toward him.

  She did what Rhynehart had asked—or demanded—of her and took a step closer to the house’s outer wall. She closed her eyes, pressed her hand against the siding, and took a deep breath. Slipping into the focus she needed to use this kind of drow sight was remarkably quick and easy for how suspicious she was of this whole mission. And at first, that suspicion flared with a little more urgency, because it seemed like Rhynehart had brought her to an empty house.

  Then she saw a shape moving around slowly at the very back of the house in what must have been the kitchen. The outline of this magical, whoever they were, was bright blue, so she knew to expect a goblin on the other side of the door. The halfling waited a few more seconds, searched through the house for any other movements, then whispered, “Just one goblin in there. That’s it.”

  “Okay.”

  Cheyenne opened her eyes to see Rhynehart pull out a cell phone, and he looked at her with a scowl.

  “I didn’t tell you to stop. Do it again and tell me when that goblin is right in front of the door. Got it?”

  “Yeah, I got it.” She frowned at him but did what he wanted. Cheyenne closed her eyes and brought her drow sight back up. There was the blue outline, moving at the back of the house. It moved to the right, paused, then turned around and went left across the room. After another pause, the blue silhouette went to the far-left side of the house and started walking up toward the front. “Okay. They’re coming up from the back.”

  “I don’t need a play-by-play, halfling. Just tell me when she’s at the door.”

  Cheyenne nodded with her eyes closed, watching the aura of the goblin grow larger and closer with every second. “Okay, now.”

  Only after she’d whispered the words did it occur to her that Rhynehart had said “she.” He obviously knew the goblin they’d come here to deal with today and wouldn’t tell his half-drow rookie a goddamn thing about it.

  Before she opened her eyes, there was a grunt and the loud crack and squeal of splintering wood, then the goblin on the other side of the door screamed.

  “What the hell?”

  The ogre who’d bashed in the front door with one kick ducked under the frame and stomped into the house, unaffected by the goblin woman’s terrified shrieks.

  “Rhynehart,” Cheyenne hissed. “What are you doing?”

  He ignored her, his jaw firmly set as he stormed in after the other FRoE operative with his hand firmly on the grip of his fell pistol.

  Cheyenne almost couldn’t believe it. They were kicking a door down and storming in—Rhynehart, an ogre, and a drow halfling—for one goblin woman who couldn’t fake that kind of terror if her life depended on it.

  No way this goblin was worse than Q’orr.

  “Shit.” The halfling clenched her fists and followed the FRoE operatives into the terrified magical’s house since she had no other choice.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The goblin woman apparently wasn’t capable of much more than screaming and blubbering. Most of it wasn’t coherent, but the occasional, “What do you want?” and “Who are you?” broke through above her startled gasps and the clatter of knick-knacks crashing to the floor as the ogre barreled through the house after her. In less than two minutes, the huge magical had pushed her into one of the dining-room chairs he’d whipped out from under the table. Rhynehart had somehow gotten hold of the thick decorative rope hanging from one end of the curtains over the dining-room window. Whether he’d cut the thing off or just ripped it free, Cheyenne didn’t know. But he brought it with him toward the panicked, trembling goblin, who didn’t even try to resist when the man wrapped the thick rope around her torso and tied her into the chair.

  With a grunt, the ogre produced a pair of dampening cuffs from a pocket or his belt or something and tossed them to Rhynehart. The man caught them deftly, pulled the goblin’s arms behind her around the wide back of the chair—making her wince in pain and even more fear—and settled the cuffs firmly around her wrists. She sat there gasping for breath, turning over one shoulder and then the other as she tried to meet Rhynehart’s gaze or see what he was doing or both. The dining room filled with her whimpering and rapid breathing.

  Then Rhynehart stepped around the chair and went to stand between the snarling ogre and a totally dumbfounded drow halfling who had absolutely no idea what was going on.

  This is so wrong.

  The FRoE team leader folded his arms and cocked his head, staring at the goblin woman with a completely blank expression. Then he let out a long sigh through his nose and just kept waiting.

  Finally, the goblin woman found what she could of her voice. “I-I don’t understand. Why are you here?”

  Rhynehart and the ogre said nothing.

  “P-please, I-I haven’t done anything. If y-you’ll at least tell me w-what this is about, I can… I’ll… I just…” The goblin turned her wide, pale orange-yellow eyes on Cheyenne, who hadn’t felt like an animal startled into a corner like this in a really long time. “At least tell me why you’re here. Please.”

  “She can’t help you, Anasz.”

  “Wha—” The goblin couldn’t seem to catch her breath as she glanced from Cheyenne to Rhynehart and back again. “But I don’t—”

  “Hey! Greedy eyes on me, goblin. I’m the one talking to you, not Resting Bitch Face over there.”

  Cheyenne blinked furiously and scowled at the man. The FRoE were supposed to give magicals more chances than anyone else, weren’t they?

  “I don’t… I just…”

  “Okay, time to turn off the waterworks and shut your mouth until I tell you to open it. Or Jamal’s gonna have to shut it for you.” Rhynehart gestured at the massive ogre beside him, who added another warning snarl.

  Anasz whimpered again. “Please don’t.”

  Rhynehart squared his feet and clasped his hands in front of his belt. “Then listen up. We know you were involved in smuggling that shit off Rez 38. Your name came up three times from three different magicals. You’re gonna tell me how you did it and who helped you.”

  The goblin’s mouth opened and closed, her upper lip—just a little darker blue-green than the rest of her face—sticking to her teeth with how dry her mouth had become. She stuttered again and looked at Cheyenne with pleading eyes.

  “She can’t answer for you,” Rhynehart barked. “Start talking.”

  “I-I-I don’t—”

  “Who did you meet outside the front gates?” the operative shouted. “I need names, Anasz. I need dates and times. What kind of vehicle they used. Where you met them. Where you made the drop-off. How many times did that shit change hands before it got to Carytown?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the goblin wailed, straining against the rope around her chest and shoulders and the dampening cuffs behind the chair. “I’ve been off Rez 38 for f-f-four…for four years. In this house. I run a bakery.”

  “You’ve been bringing in a little extra cash by smuggling, too.”

  “No!”

  Rhynehart leapt toward her and thrust a finger in the goblin woman’s face. She lurched back in the chair with another whimper, staring at the man’s threatening finger. “It’s over, Anasz. Your time’s up. This house, your goddamn bakery, everything you own—it’s al
l ours now. You know we can take it away from you just like that.”

  “Why?” The goblin was on the verge of hyperventilating now. “I haven’t done anything. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I live here by myself. I don’t make any trouble. I run my business like every other regular person.”

  “I want names.”

  “I don’t know any magicals Earthside!” She was getting even more worked-up now, her voice squeaking in a high whine between sharp, quick breaths. “I left Rez 38 and cut ties with everyone. I want to be here. Please!”

  Rhynehart looked the goblin woman up and down and stood back, lowering his hand. “Should’ve thought of that before you started dipping your fingers into black magic, Anasz.”

  “What? No!” Anasz clenched her eyes shut and whispered fiercely in a language Cheyenne didn’t understand. She rocked back and forth in the chair, muttering the same few phrases over and over.

  With a grimace of disgust, Rhynehart gestured toward the terrified magical and glanced at Jamal. “What the hell is this? What’s she doing?”

  The ogre tilted his head and studied Anasz, then shrugged. “Praying.”

  “Give me a fucking break.” Rhynehart turned toward the goblin woman and brought his face just inches from hers before he started shouting again. “Your gods don’t even exist on this side, goblin. They can’t hear you!”

  Anasz shook her head furiously, whispering in her native tongue over and over, rocking while she shook her head.

  “The only person who can save you now is your own damn self, Anasz. You have two choices. Tell me what I want to hear, and we’ll take you back to Rez 38 to rethink your career path in a nice, cushy cell. Otherwise, your ass is getting dropped right back across that Border, and I don’t think you have it in you to make that trip again.” When the magical didn’t give him any other reply, Rhynehart dropped his hand to his fell pistol again, removed it from the holster, and slapped off the safety. The low whine of the weapon powering up filled the goblin’s dining room, followed by the brightening green glow inside the mechanism. Then the man lifted the fell pistol and brought the barrel up toward Anasz’s face.

  “What the fuck?” Cheyenne had had enough. She lurched toward the FRoE operative, the heat of her drow magic flaring at the base of her spine without her even having to think about it. The rage that had coursed through her when she saw Durg aim his gun at Ember and the other halflings—when that asshole pulled the trigger, and everyone left Ember there to bleed out at the skatepark—came rushing back to her with the same wild, erratic force as that night two weeks ago. Only this time, a guy she’d thought was mostly decent, just with a messed-up sense of duty to the FRoE, was training his weapon on another magical tied to a chair. And after everything she’d seen, Cheyenne was convinced Anasz was innocent.

  “Back up, rookie,” Rhynehart growled, glaring at the goblin woman at the end of his weapon.

  “She’s telling the truth, Rhynehart.”

  “I didn’t bring you here to fight me on this. Back up!”

  “Get that thing out of her face!” The halfling summoned her sparks in both purple-gray hands, her eyes glowing gold with rage and warning.

  In the blink of an eye, Rhynehart jerked the gun away from Anasz, lowered it, and pointed at the drow halfling, who now looked full drow. “Watch it.”

  “Are you serious?” Cheyenne glared at him, the sparks hissing and cracking at her fingertips. She didn’t look away from Rhynehart’s fierce gaze, but she saw Jamal just standing there and staring at them both from the corner of her eye. She’d hear him before he made a single move.

  “Don’t make me turn this gun on you, halfling. I will.”

  “You know I can dodge bullets, asshole.”

  “Not at this range.”

  “And you saw what I did to that stupid bazooka when you turned that on me. Breaking your arm won’t be nearly as hard.”

  Rhynehart studied her face, sneered at her with a little puff of amusement through his nose, and stepped back. He lifted the fell pistol again, but turned it around in his hand and offered her the grip instead. “You do it.”

  She blinked. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the gun, but the purple sparks in her hands disappeared. “You’re insane.”

  “I’m doing my job, rookie. I’m following orders. If you want us to keep up our end of the deal, you’ll follow orders too.”

  It took everything she had not to slap the gun out of his hand and send him flying across the goblin’s dining room. “I’m telling you, Rhynehart, she wasn’t involved in any of that crap.”

  “Oh, yeah? You have some kind of information I don’t?”

  “No, but I can hear her heart beating so fast that she’s on the verge of passing out. Trust me, that’s not the way anyone’s pulse sounds when they’re lying. It’s in her voice, too. Maybe it’s time for you to consider you got the wrong information.”

  Rhynehart bit his lower lip, then shrugged. “Maybe. But this goblin isn’t innocent. She’s still breaking the rules.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We’ve already got her on another little side business she’s been handling from the back of her bakery. Isn’t that right, Anasz?”

  The goblin woman had stopped rocking and whispering in that unknown language sometime after Rhynehart had turned his weapon on her. When he looked at her now, she let out a sob.

  “This one’s been dealing potions on the side. To anyone. Magicals, humans—it doesn’t matter. Some of her regulars think she’s a goddamn witch, don’t they?”

  Anasz’s gaze darted between the FRoE operative and the glowering drow halfling, who were in a standoff. The goblin’s heartbeat slowed a little, but now it was erratic, speeding up and slowing down as she huffed out one breath after the other in little bursts. “Can you hear the difference in that, halfling?” Rhynehart raised an eyebrow. “Not completely innocent.”

  Cheyenne shot the goblin woman a quick glance, then shook her head. “Is she hurting anyone?”

  “Probably not, no. From what I hear, it’s mostly love potions and cold remedies. Pretty harmless, and her human clients can’t seem to get enough.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” The halfling forced herself not to scream at the guy like he’d screamed at Anasz. “If she’s not hurting anyone, why is this a big deal? Sounds like she’s helping people.”

  “That’s not the point.” The agent took another step away from the chair and pointed at his target tied and handcuffed to it. “This is part of what we do too, rookie. Call it law enforcement. Selling magic of any kind to humans goes against the Accord, and we can’t have random magicals breaking the Accord whenever they feel like it, whether they’re dangerous or not.”

  “Then slap her with a fine or something. Jesus.” Cheyenne shot the goblin a sympathetic glance. “This is way over the top. We should be talking to someone who’s dangerous, not wasting our time on love potions.”

  “Not my call to make.” Rhynehart extended the grip of his fell pistol toward the halfling one more time and nodded. “And this is part of the deal. You do what you’re told, and then you get what you want. Take the weapon.”

  Cheyenne finally let herself glance at the fell pistol in the man’s hand, which was still letting out that whining buzz and pulsing slowly with green light. Should’ve listened to Mattie when she told me not to mess with these people.

  “Take the weapon, rookie. Do your part.”

  Slowly, the halfling lifted her burning gaze to meet his and gave him her final answer. “Fuck you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Without looking away from the half-drow, Rhynehart reached out behind him and snapped his fingers. Jamal growled and stomped toward the goblin woman tied in the chair. Anasz shrieked and violently shook her head, unable to get out a single word.

  Cheyenne glanced at Rhynehart, who’d lowered the gun again and was stepping across the dining room to let his ogre muscle do the dirty work the d
row halfling wouldn’t.

  No way.

  A roiling orb of black energy with flaring violet magic at its center burst to life in Cheyenne’s palm, and she blasted it at the ogre the second it appeared. Her spell hit the magical’s chest, momentarily stopping him in his tracks. She stepped in front of the chair with the terrified goblin in it and sent another black orb into Jamal’s face. That stopped him for a little longer, but he blinked, shook the minor irritation off with a snarl, and stormed toward the halfling instead.

  The black tendrils of her drow magic burst from her fingertips. Given how big and brutish the ogre was, he moved with shocking speed. One meaty gray hand whipped up and caught three of the lashing tendrils. The other two whipped across his face and neck, but Cheyenne lost all control when he yanked the fistful of tendrils down by his side, pulling the halfling along with them.

  She didn’t have time to conjure another spell or slow the rest of the world down while she sped up. Jamal grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her off the ground. Cheyenne screamed at the fire racing through her wounded shoulder, and the scream lasted as long as it took for her to fly across the dining room before she hit the window frame at the front of the house. Her back thumped against the wall before she crumpled onto the floor, tearing down the curtains and the curtain rod that came crashing down on her head. By the time she’d untangled herself from all that fabric, Jamal had grabbed the back of the chair with one huge hand. The other was pulled back in a fist, aimed at Anasz’s face.

  The halfling roared and fired an orb of black energy at him with both hands before leaping back to her feet. Each spell knocked the ogre back a little, but they didn’t stop him from leaning down even farther and bringing his fist down toward the goblin. Cheyenne ran toward him again, frantically unleashing her magic. The lashing black tendrils bursting from her right hand whipped toward the ogre, while a shimmering curved sheet of opalescent energy materialized between him and the goblin woman.