by Martha Carr
Of course they recognize me.
“Hey, where the hell’s your mask?”
Cheyenne hurried toward the building’s entrance and spun to face him with a shrug. “This is best I could come up with on short notice, okay? It works.”
The agent glared at her and slowly shook his head.
Great. Any minute now, I’ll get a call about walking around in public looking like myself. Sir can suck it.
She barreled into the building and hurried toward her classroom. The door was open, all the lights on, and her undergrad students were already in their seats, engaged in their own conversations. Cheyenne stormed down the aisle and glanced at the clock on the back wall. Only five minutes late. Could be worse.
“Whoa!” The kid in the back row dressed up as the Hulk, green face paint smeared on way too thick, thumped both hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Nice costume, Professor.”
“Don’t call me that.” Cheyenne stopped behind the desk and shrugged out of her backpack, fighting not to chuck it at the ground. The rest of the students stopped talking and turned wide eyes and awed smiles on their instructor.
“Seriously,” the kid continued. “I mean, it’s not as awesome as the Hulk, but you went all out.”
She cocked her head and looked him up and down. “Yeah, the fake foam muscles were a great touch. Totally believable.”
The students laughed, and the guy sitting next to the kid who gave Cheyenne crap every class reached out and squeezed his friend’s puffy bicep.
“Cut it out.” The Hulk smacked his friend’s hand away and glared at him. “At least I put some effort into it. One day of the whole year when her regular look makes sense.” He looked back at Cheyenne. “You could’ve told everyone that was your costume.”
Cheyenne smacked the desk. “Shut up and pay attention.”
The kid’s smile faded, and the laughter around him died immediately.
With a deep breath, Cheyenne closed her eyes and gave herself a moment. Just a bunch of undergrads. Definitely not the worst thing you’ve faced in the last few days. Figure it out.
“Sorry I was a little late.”
Her students said nothing.
Okay, think. No lesson plan. No plan at all. What the hell am I even doing here?
“All right, listen up. Today’s a little different. Advanced Programming.” Someone snorted, and Cheyenne stood straight and lifted her chin. Gotta give them something. Or maybe they can get me something. A slow smile spread across her face, making most of her students lean back in their seats. “Any of you heard of a company called ThomasSafe?”
Blank stares and a few shaken heads were the only responses she got.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” This is probably breaking a bajillion rules, but I don’t have time for rules. Might as well use the resources I have. “Here’s your assignment.”
The blonde girl’s hand shot into the air, but she didn’t wait for Cheyenne to call on her. “You haven’t gone over our last assignments. Or taught us anything new.”
“You wanna stand up here and teach this class instead?” Cheyenne raised her eyebrows at the girl and mentally kicked herself. Awesome. Now I sound like every other asshole professor I never liked.
“I told you guys this class would be different, and I meant it. So here’s the deal. Between now and Wednesday, I want you guys to research as much as you can about this company and its owner and CEO, Matthew Thomas. And I mean as much as you can. Anything. How ThomasSafe was founded, how it’s structured, what technology they’re using. Hell, pull up familial connections to the man. Bonus points if you can tell me what he ate for breakfast yesterday.”
“Wait, how is this part of Advanced Programming?”
Cheyenne gave the large kid with the beard a pert smile. “Because ThomasSafe is one of the highest-grossing cybersecurity firms in the U.S. If you guys wanna get good at this whole tech thing, you might as well learn from the best.”
“You’re saying this Matthew Thomas guy is the best?” The girl on the end of the front row with half her head shaved folded her arms.
Cheyenne fought back a grin and pointed at her. “That’s not what I said.”
“When we find all this stuff,” another student asked, “what do you want us to do with it?”
“Send it to me.”
The room fell silent.
“Okay.” Cheyenne clapped her hands together. “It’s Halloween. I have places to be too, so I’ll see you Wednesday. Now get out.”
The girl in the front row snorted and slid out of her seat first, her messenger bag slapping her thigh as she headed into the hallway.
Sticking her hands in her pockets, the halfling watched her confused students gather their things to leave the shortest Advanced Programming class all semester. Let’s see which of them has the most promise, huh? If anybody takes me seriously on this one. If not, I’ll find Matthew Thomas’ uncle on my own. Whatever the FRoE’s up to, it stops with him.
Her fingers drummed on her thighs inside her pockets, and she raised her eyebrows at the last student turning around to shoot her a confused glance before he stepped through the doorway. And that’s how you clear a room.
Cheyenne grabbed her backpack, slipped it on, and stalked up the aisle. The lights clicked off, the door shut with a louder bang than she intended, and she marched down the hall toward Maleshi’s current class.
Through the rectangular window in the door, she watched Maleshi, human-looking once again as Professor Mattie Bergmann, gesture with a wide sweep of her arm before clicking the remote at the smartboard behind her. Her students laughed softly, and the woman’s brilliant green eyes flicked toward Cheyenne’s face in the window. Maleshi’s eyes widened, but she continued with her lesson.
Cheyenne folded her arms. Yeah, I’ll wait.
Fifteen minutes later, Maleshi waved at the door, and Cheyenne stepped aside before the first students pushed it open and swarmed into the hall. Most of them gave her appraising looks before heading to their next class. Maleshi followed the last student toward the door and pointed at Cheyenne with a tight smile. “Well, look at you. Went all out on your costume this year, huh?
“Guess Halloween kinda snuck up on me.”
Maleshi chuckled and nodded at the last student slipping past Cheyenne into the hall. Then she grabbed the halfling’s arm and jerked her into the classroom.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“What the hell are you trying to pull, kid?”
The door clicked shut, and a bright burst of silver light from Maleshi’s fingertip blacked out the window.
“It’s Halloween. Nobody cares.”
“I care. So does every other magical who might see you like this. Have you lost it?”
“I forgot about the cuff, okay?” Cheyenne jerked the sleeve of her jacket up to expose the thick silver band on her wrist. “And it was too late to do anything about it when I got here.”
“That’s a dangerous risk to take, Cheyenne.”
“More dangerous or less dangerous than whatever swamp you drove my car through?”
Maleshi blinked. “Your car?”
“You told me you’d take care of it. I guess I assumed that didn’t have the same meaning as when it’s said about people.”
“I didn’t kill your car, kid.”
“You fucked it up.” Cheyenne shook her head. “Anything to say about it?”
“I think a car is the least of our worries right now, don’t you?”
“No. Not the least of mine.” Cheyenne cocked her head. “Maybe the least of yours, though.”
Maleshi hissed at her and glanced at the window in the door despite it being a long black rectangle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m talking about L’zar. He lost it on Corian before I came out here, and it sounded a lot like he knows what’s up between you two.”
The general’s olive-skinned human face paled, her eyelashes fluttering in surprise. “Then I won’t go back right now
like I planned.”
“So, you’re gonna hide from it?” Cheyenne shook her head. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere. He’s not even supposed to be Earthside right now, but the olforím don’t give a shit, and now he’s stuck here forever.”
Maleshi swallowed. “Ba’rael’s curse.”
“Yeah. We have that awesome surprise to deal with. And now L’zar definitely won’t be with me when I have to go back there to give the Crown my terms. That’s what I’m worried about.”
“You’ll be fine.” Maleshi turned around and walked stiffly toward the desk at the front of the classroom.
“Sure, if L’zar’s in the right headspace to cough up whatever information he has that will help me. I mean, he’s hardly ever in the right headspace, but he surely won’t be if you and Corian try to clear this mess up with him.”
“Corian and me.” The general slipped loose papers into her rolling briefcase and turned. “If there is a mess, Cheyenne, it’s between the two of them. Corian makes his own decisions, even if it looks like the exact opposite. I’m not part of this.”
“Fine, but you’re part of all the open ends we left in Ambar’ogúl before we got shoved back across the Border. Right?”
Maleshi grabbed the handle of her briefcase and stalked toward the door. “Like what?”
“Seriously?” Cheyenne gritted her teeth when the nightstalker walked past her, then spun and followed Maleshi up the aisle. “Like all the extra magic spilling out of Hangivol. Like the Sorren Gán. Shouldn’t someone be over there checking whether that asshole’s doing what it promised?”
“Well, you can make the crossing and check it all out for yourself if that’s what you want.” The general pointed at the door, and a silver flash removed the window’s black color. “But I highly recommend you spend your time thinking about what is under your control.”
“Like what?”
The door jerked open, and Maleshi turned to whisper harshly, “Like who you’re gonna put on that throne if you ever want to step foot Earthside again. Like how you plan to force Ba’rael off that throne. Everything else is a drop in the bucket and a waste of all our time.”
The general stormed into the hall and didn’t look back.
Cheyenne stepped out after her. “I’m still taking suggestions. Anyone come to mind?”
“Close the door behind you.” Maleshi disappeared around the corner, the wheels of her rolling briefcase squeaking and clicking across the divots in the linoleum floor.
“Great.” ‘Cause it’s the easiest thing in the world to find someone to rule Ambar’ogúl among the limited options on Earth. Cheyenne snorted, slammed the classroom door shut behind her, and headed down the hall toward the closest restroom. “Mondays suck.”
The bathroom door opened, and a short, scrawny girl who couldn’t have been taller than five feet skirted into the hall. “Tell me about it. Nice costume.”
Cheyenne ignored her and slipped into the bathroom. The stall door banged shut behind her, and she twisted the lock before slapping her hands on the metal door and bowing her head between them. Only eleven days left until I either force the Crown to step down or try to keep her from slitting my throat. No big deal.
She jerked the cuff off her wrist and shoved it angrily into the pocket of her trenchcoat. The warmth of the magic she’d been walking around in for the last three days faded, and she smoothed her dyed-black hair away from her face with pale Goth-girl hands. Feels like taking off all my clothes. Never thought it’d feel weird to look like a human, but okay.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the stall door and glanced briefly at herself in the mirror. “You need food. And a shower. You smell like a raug.”
The toilet in the other stall flushed, and her student with the half-shaved head stepped out to wash her hands. “I don’t know what the hell a raug is, but speak for yourself.”
Cheyenne scowled at the girl.
“I figured all that face paint would take a lot longer to wash off.”
“Just takes practice.”
“Okay.”
Turning stiffly, Cheyenne hurried out of the bathroom, slamming her hand against the door to throw it open. A university campus is not the place to talk to myself in the mirror. Or at all. Noted.
* * *
When she got back to her apartment, she found Ember sitting on the couch, both legs propped on the cushions, watching TV. The girl looked at her and smiled. “Get caught up?”
“Maleshi owes me a new car.”
“What?”
Cheyenne dropped her backpack on the floor and slumped into the black leather recliner on the other side of the coffee table. “She’s why I don’t have nice things.”
Ember wrinkled her nose. “That might be stretching it a little. You could buy three more of those things brand-new and not even make a dent in your bank account.”
“That’s not the point, Em.” Cheyenne dropped her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “It’s the principle. If somebody says they’ll take care of it and you can trust them, that better be what they mean.” Her eyes flew open, and she bolted upright in the chair. “Shit, Em. Your PT appointment. I totally forgot.” She fought with the side of her trenchcoat to get to the phone in the left pocket. “What time is it? We can still—”
“Whoa, slow down. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. Here I am, talking about keeping promises, and now I’m the asshole who—”
“Cheyenne, stop.”
The halfling looked up at her friend and paused with her phone halfway out of her pocket. “What?”
“I canceled PT.”
“Because I didn’t show up?”
“Because I’m healing myself, Cheyenne. I don’t need the clinic anymore.”
“Oh.” Sitting back in the chair, Cheyenne cocked her head. “You sure?”
Without looking away from her, Ember pointed at her feet. The left one wiggled an inch, and that was it. “It’s a hell of a lot more movement than I had yesterday.”
“Well, that’s cool.” Despite her frustration, the halfling couldn’t help but smile. “The healer healing herself. No wonder Cazerel didn’t want to let you go anywhere alone.”
“Yeah, he’s probably freaking out right now,” Ember said, “Maybe. I don’t know. Do raugs freak out?”
“Not unless they’re in rage and with a lot of exploding magic. Or prophecies, I guess.”
“Yeesh.” Ember lifted the remote toward the TV. Her show clicked off, and a low hum filled the apartment as the flatscreen lowered itself into the long entry table until it disappeared. “So.” The remote clattered onto the coffee table. “Now what?”
“Well, we’re Earthside again, so I guess we’re focusing on Earthside problems for now.”
“Right.” Ember grimaced and wrinkled her nose. “Like ‘Matthew Thomas’ uncle in the FRoE’ problems, huh?”
“Pretty much.” Cheyenne snorted and pulled her phone from her pocket to drop it in her lap. “I kind of outsourced that one.”
“To whom?”
“My students.”
“Ha!” Ember rolled her eyes. “Seriously, though. You find some new hacker friends or something?”
“Seriously, though.” Cheyenne grinned. “This is how I’ll find them. And whoever digs up the most dirt on our friendly neighbor across the hall and his scumbag uncle gets a passing grade no matter what.”
“Oh, my God.” The girl laughed. “You put your students up to that?”
“As an assignment, yeah.”
“You know what? I’m not as surprised as I thought I’d be.”
“So, I’m predictable now. Good to know.”
Ember clicked her tongue. “Yeah, that’s totally what I meant.”
“Hey, if my students, which is still weird to say, can find Matthew’s uncle, it gives Matthew one less reason to come after us.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“You don’t think so?” Cheyenne pushed out of the ar
mchair and headed toward the iron stairs to the mini-loft. “The dude lied to us twice to keep this secret, Em. I had to record Maleshi fighting a war machine for him to take us seriously.”
“I don’t wanna talk about Matthew right now.”
“Why?” Cheyenne stopped halfway up the stairs and stared at her roommate. “Did you talk to him while I was gone?”
“What? No.” Ember rolled her eyes. “I don’t wanna think about him or talk to him. Not until we find out who his uncle is. Oh, shit. You think it’s Sir?”
Cheyenne snorted and continued up the stairs. “Think about both their faces for a second, Em, then tell me you think that’s even remotely a possibility.”
“I don’t know what he looks like.”
“Oh.” With a shrug, Cheyenne sat in her spinning desk chair and powered up her computer. “Well, they don’t look anything like each other.”
“Could be his uncle by marriage or something.”
“Huh.”
“And not everyone looks like the rest of their family members, either.”
No, just drow apparently. Creepy-weird how much Neros looks like L’zar. “I guess you have a point.”
“Of course I do.”
“I’ll keep it in mind when I’m digging through the vast world of information at my fingertips.” Cheyenne touched the activator behind her ear to reassure herself it was still there, then Glen’s monitor turned on, and her vision filled with the scrolling lines of code telling her everything she needed to know about the system she’d built. “I don’t know how long this is gonna take.”
“Totally fine.” Ember grabbed the remote again, and the flatscreen rose from its slot one more time. “I’ll go back to what I was doing before you stormed in here, ready to rip General Hi’et’s head off.”
Cheyenne snorted. “Sounds good.” I’m gonna focus all this pissed-off energy into something useful.
When Glen finished powering up, Cheyenne pulled up her VPN and dove into the dark web to look for things she knew none of her students would be able to find.
The Borderlands forum under Third Quarter Projections was as active as normal, but none of the new topic threads mentioned anything about Ambar’ogúl, a new Cycle, the Crown, loyalists, or anything remotely related to L’zar’s rebels storming the Heart at Hangivol.
