The Drow Grew Stronger (Goth Drow Book 4)

by Martha Carr

  She took a deep breath and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I wanted to see what was going on first. I still have no idea.”

  “I seriously hope you know someone who does have an idea. She’s not gonna last much longer standing there like that. No food. No water. No sleep. And those morphing-monster things could pop out of the stones at any time.”

  “Stop.” Cheyenne looked up from her phone and glared at him. “You’re the worst at making people feel better. You know that, right?”

  “Still working on it.” With a sharp nod, Rhynehart walked swiftly back to his team and left the halfling alone to make her call.

  She pressed the phone to her ear and stared at her mom’s silhouette, cast by the pulsing purple and green lights. Come on, Corian. Pick up. Whatever you’re doing, please pick up.

  “Where are you?”

  A small sigh of relief escaped her. “I’m at Bianca’s, and I really, really need your help. She needs your help.”

  The other end of the line was silent.

  “Corian?”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Bad enough that I’m calling you less than five minutes after I got here. Please, can you get here or not?”

  “Yeah, kid. Hang tight.”

  “Thank you.” She swallowed thickly and felt like she could breathe again. “Hey, can you bring Ember with you? I have a feeling I’ll need her too.”

  “That’s usually how it goes. Five minutes, Cheyenne.”

  “Okay.” She kept her phone against her ear for a full thirty seconds after he hung up. Then she blinked, slid the phone back into her pocket, and walked quickly back toward Rhynehart’s agents and Eleanor the housekeeper, who was glaring furiously at all of them.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  “Who’d you call?” Rhynehart stopped beside Cheyenne and rocked forward on his toes.

  She stared at her mom’s blank, unchanging face. “You’ll find out.”

  “Huh.” He took a deep breath and folded his arms. “I have to ask, kid. Does this have anything to do with you running around and popping in and out of this thing?”

  “No. That was one time, Rhynehart. And Bianca wasn’t a part of it.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with this. I wouldn’t risk anything happening to her.” Cheyenne looked up at him and shook her head. “That was why I called you guys.”

  “I know. I’m trying to put together whatever pieces I can.”

  “Well, I don’t have enough pieces, so you’re outta luck.”

  They stood silently beside each other as the portal ridge pulsed with muddy light.

  Then one of his agents shouted and stepped back, quickly followed by the others. A dark oval of light shimmered in the air behind Bianca, and Corian stepped out first. He didn’t bother with an illusion this time, and he only spared the FRoE agents a quick, sidelong glance through narrow silver eyes before he headed toward Cheyenne.

  “Christ,” Rhynehart muttered. “Where’d you find that guy?”

  “In a basement.” Cheyenne met Corian halfway and shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Show me, and we’ll go from there.”

  She nodded at Bianca, then saw Byrd and Lumil standing in front of the portal, scowling at the FRoE agents. Persh’al came next, rubbing the side of his shaved head, then Ember floated through the portal.

  Rhynehart rubbed a hand over his mouth and stared. “The whole damn circus.”

  “Who the hell is that?”

  “Holy shit! It’s him!”

  “Get back!”

  Eleanor’s scream cut through the agents’ startled shouts, and she fled back to the house, the strings of her apron left on that morning streaming behind her as she ran.

  Cheyenne tried to ignore the agents running around like a magical bomb had gone off when L’zar Verdys stepped through the portal. “I didn’t tell you to bring him.”

  Corian nodded. “I told him that. He refused to stay behind.”

  “Great.”

  “Goddammit, Cheyenne!” Rhynehart stormed toward her with a hand on the fell pistol at his hip. “You said you didn’t know where he was!”

  “Hey, did you see me walk through that portal?”

  “You called the damn nightstalker who opened it! How am I supposed to believe you had no idea L’zar Verdys was with that cat-looking creep?”

  Corian snarled, “Watch it.”

  Rhynehart stepped away from the nightstalker but didn’t draw his weapon. “I have orders. I’m taking him in.”

  Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “Go for it. And have fun. I know he will.”

  “What?” The agent stopped and spun to stare at her.

  “He’s not playing ‘imprison the drow’ anymore, Rhynehart.” Cheyenne gestured toward her father, who twirled both hands and gave the FRoE agents a flippant bow as they drew their weapons and waited for the order. “Seventy-five years in Chateau D’rahl was a game for him. Don’t tell me you can’t see that.”

  The agent bit his bottom lip and cringed when L’zar gave his crazed drow laugh and spun in a wide, slow circle. “Shit. I’d tell you to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put him away right now, but that’s enough.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Corian watched the drow thief intently. “He might be the only one who can help her, kid.”

  “Let’s go find out.” Cheyenne shook her head and headed toward the gathered agents, who had all aimed their weapons on L’zar Verdys.

  “Cheyenne!” He spread his arms and dipped his head. “What a welcome, huh? I haven’t seen the end of this many toys in three-quarters of a century.”

  Rhynehart raised a hand toward his agents and shook his head. “Stand down.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “Stand down, Walden!”

  The agents blinked in confusion and eyed L’zar warily, but pistols and fell rifles lowered slowly under their team leader’s command.

  “So, you think you know what’s going on here?” Rhynehart nodded behind L’zar at Bianca’s motionless form.

  “That depends. I’d love to hear what Ms. Summerlin has to say.” When the drow thief saw Bianca standing there, his grin disappeared. “No.”

  “Huh.” Rhynehart cocked his head. “Definitely sounds like he knows what’s going on.”

  “Not in the good way.” Cheyenne shot the agent a disapproving glance, then hurried toward L’zar. “What happened to her? Is she okay?”

  The drow thief reached slowly toward Bianca, then pulled his hand away and pressed his fingers to his lips.

  “L’zar. I asked you a question.”

  “Give me a moment, Cheyenne.” One of his eyes twitched as he studied Bianca, moving in a slow circle around her. He stopped in front of her, his eyebrows creased in concern, and dipped his head toward her. “Bianca?”

  Corian joined them and chewed the inside of his cheek. “Any idea what—”

  “I said, give me a moment!” L’zar’s fists clenched tightly at his sides, and his golden eyes glowed without leaving Bianca’s face. “When I’m ready to tell you, I will tell you.”

  “Sure.” Corian set a hand on Cheyenne’s shoulder and drew her back. “Come on, kid.”

  “Wait, does he know or not?” She saw the warning in the nightstalker’s eyes, combined with the strengthening pressure of his fingers on her shoulder, so she swallowed and forced herself to nod. “Right. He needs some time. Fine.”

  “Yep.” Corian looked at L’zar warily, then turned with her and led Cheyenne away from everyone else. When they were out of earshot, he let go of her and stuck his hands in his pockets. “You’re not gonna like what I’m about to tell you, kid.”

  “You know what this is.”

  “No, but he does.” Corian glanced at L’zar, who leaned closer to Bianca, his expression changing from wide-eyed surprise to a concerned frown to disbelief and something else.

  Looks a lot like sad
ness.

  Cheyenne couldn’t take her eyes off her parents. “Why won’t he tell us what happened and how to fix it? I mean, he doesn’t even have to do anything. I’ll take care of it. I need to know what to do.”

  “I know. And he’ll tell us when he’s ready, kid. Whenever he comes out of shock.”

  “Out of shock?” Cheyenne gestured harshly toward her father. “That doesn’t look like shock to me. He’s studying her like she’s some kind of experiment!”

  “Trust me, Cheyenne. I’ve spent enough time with him to know his moods and what he’s thinking. For the most part.”

  “Oh, yeah? You’re gonna speak for him now? Then what the hell’s he thinking?”

  The nightstalker gazed at the grass and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Corian!”

  “It’s bad, Cheyenne.”

  She stepped away from him and swallowed. “Shit.”

  “The rest will have to wait. And then we’ll do what we need to do.”

  Cheyenne’s legs wobbled, and she staggered before letting herself sink to her knees. “That bad.”

  “Nothing L’zar Verdys and his halfling daughter can’t handle.”

  She didn’t have to look at him to hear the truth behind his words. He doesn’t believe that.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Cheyenne knelt in the same spot in the middle of the lawn for the next half hour and didn’t move. Ember sat beside her in the grass, though neither of them could think of anything to say as L’zar paced between Bianca and the portal ridge. The FRoE agents were nervous, keeping at least twenty feet between them and the drow who still had twenty-five years left on his sentence at Chateau D’rahl.

  Probably more, now. Not like he’s gonna serve it.

  Lumil and Byrd stood on the other side of the portal ridge with their arms folded, staring at everyone else and muttering their thoughts aloud to each other. Persh’al sat cross-legged in the grass, his elbows on his thighs and his chin resting in his cupped hands as he watched L’zar watching Bianca Summerlin.

  “How much can he figure out just by walking back and forth?” Ember muttered.

  Cheyenne shrugged.

  “It’s an old habit,” Corian explained.

  “Whatever.”

  L’zar snarled and snapped them all back to attention. “To the deathflame then, huh? Fuck it.”

  He lunged toward Bianca and grabbed her by both shoulders.

  “Don’t!” Cheyenne leaped to her feet and ran toward him.

  The drow thief shrieked in Bianca’s face, the purple and green light sparking and flashing all over both of them, but he held on tight, his eyes flaring as deep purple replaced the flickering gold. The spell around Cheyenne’s mom flashed brighter and brighter, and L’zar didn’t let go until his scream ran out with his willpower.

  He recoiled from the woman and spun away, sinking to his knees. Smoke and crackling flashes of purple and green rose from his upturned hands, and his chest heaved as he bowed his head.

  Cheyenne reached him in seconds. “What did you do? Mom? Hey!” She stepped toward her father and forced herself not to hit him while he was down. “Say something!”

  “It’s all my fault.”

  “What?”

  L’zar looked up at his daughter, his eyes shimmering with tears. “I was focused on the wrong thing.” He swayed on his knees and lowered his gaze to the grass. His lower lip trembled as he opened his mouth and tried two more times to spit out the words. “I did this, Cheyenne. It’s my fault.”

  Blinking furiously, she backed away from him and looked at her mom. Nothing about Bianca’s suspended state had changed. “What do you mean, you did this?”

  L’zar’s eyelids fluttered as his palms filled with golden light. He closed his fists, and his burnt, smoking flesh healed in seconds. “I couldn’t see all the way through.”

  Corian joined them, frowning at L’zar like the drow had murdered Bianca Summerlin instead of failing to help her. “L’zar.”

  “My fault.”

  “Get up.”

  “I should have known.”

  Corian hissed and shot a bright silver bolt of light at L’zar’s chest. The drow thief choked and keeled over onto the grass.

  “What are you doing?” Cheyenne shouted. “You think that’s gonna help right now?”

  The nightstalker blinked. “Yes.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  L’zar gasped and got quickly back to his knees. After another handful of deep breaths, he stood. “Right.” His gaze flicked to Corian, then Cheyenne before he nodded at the grass. “Now we know.”

  Cheyenne felt Ember’s presence beside her before she saw her friend from the corner of her eye. They exchanged quick glances and didn’t have to say a word. She slaps me in the face, and L’zar gets a bolt of nightstalker lightning. Different strokes, I guess.

  “No, L’zar.” She stepped toward him and clenched her fists. “We don’t know anything. You need to tell me what happened to my mother.”

  “Of course.” His eyes twitched into narrow golden slits. “Apparently, Ba’rael’s generous curse of exile or death passed through this portal.” Long, slate-gray fingers gestured weakly at the ridge behind him. “I can’t pretend to know how that worked over distance or time, but Bianca must have been standing right here at that exact moment.”

  “This happened this morning.” Cheyenne folded her arms. “Your sister cursed you three days ago.”

  “Three days in Ambar’ogúl are not always three days on Earth, Cheyenne. If you didn’t know that already, you believe it now.” L’zar looked up at her, his lips pursed in concentration as he saw not his daughter but some piece of the magical puzzle only the drow Weaver could see.

  “How?” Corian asked.

  L’zar slowly shrugged. “Could have been the explosion of magic in Hangivol or Ba’rael’s casting of the curse. Or any number of things that happened afterward—none of which we expected, of course.”

  “Hmm.”

  Cheyenne glared at the nightstalker. “’Hmm?’ That’s your response?”

  “Do you have a better one?”

  “Yeah. How do we fix this? How do we bring her back?”

  L’zar smacked his lips and slowly shook his head. “I suggest you find your replacement as Crown as quickly as possible, Cheyenne. My sister needs to either step down or be cut down. Otherwise, your mother’s state,” he said, gesturing limply at Bianca but staring at the grass, “will only get worse.”

  Jesus, he sounds like he’s talking in his sleep. “Get worse, how?”

  The drow thief steepled his fingers in front of his face and tapped them against each other. “Well, to start, she won’t be leaving this well-tended patch of grass.”

  “Seriously?”

  L’zar dipped his head, and his eyes roamed everywhere but his daughter’s face. “I’m going over there.” He pointed vaguely at a different area of the lawn and moved in that direction.

  “Do we need to worry about him too?”

  Corian raised an eyebrow at the halfling. “When do we not?”

  “I can’t believe this.” Cheyenne smoothed her hair back from her face with both hands, realized how often she’d seen L’zar do that, and instantly lowered her arms. “We need to do something.”

  “We are doing something. You’ll find the best magical to sit on the throne in your place. L’zar and I will keep working on laying out those terms for his sister to accept, whether she likes it or not.” He scratched his head as he stared at the woman frozen in front of the portal ridge. “It doesn’t look like Bianca Summerlin’s going anywhere until this two-week magical ceasefire is over.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “I know.”

  Cheyenne laughed in disbelief, but it quickly died in her throat. “I need you to explain this, Corian. Ba’rael has no idea who my mother is. She had no idea Bianca would be standing right here when she cast that curse. She doesn’t even know this portal lead
s into the fucking torture chamber in her fortress.”

  “I know, Cheyenne.”

  “So, how was this even possible?”

  Corian raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath. His long exhale seemed to last forever. “Well, it shouldn’t be, but that's pretty much at the core of everything we’ve been trying to accomplish, isn’t it? Making the impossible possible.”

  Cheyenne glanced at Ember, who shook her head and shrugged, settling her luminous violet eyes on Bianca Summerlin’s profile. The halfling closed her eyes and swallowed the anger threatening to burn its way out of her as drow magic. He’s right. Shit.

  “Okay.” She turned to look at her father, who now sat cross-legged in the grass for another one of his meditation sessions. “I guess if anyone can do the impossible, it’s us, right? Let’s make it happen.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  “So much for doing the impossible.” Cheyenne Summerlin leaned over her crossed legs and stared across the manicured lawn. “I’d settle for doing anything.”

  Beside her, Ember tilted her head to one side. “Looks like someone’s on the verge of doing something, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Something stupid.”

  The FRoE agents stationed at her mom’s house to guard the portal ridge had all but abandoned their duties at this point. The setting sun filled the sky with orange and pink, casting long shadows across the grass, and every operative in black fatigues and dampening vests, gloves, helmets, and carrying fell weapons stared nervously at the silent, immobile drow thief on the other side of the lawn. Hands tightened on weapon grips. Boots shuffled.

  L’zar didn’t move.

  Cheyenne snorted. “They look like they’re about to shit themselves.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing he’s unresponsive, then.” Ember shrugged. “Would he fight them, do you think?”

  “Probably not.” Cheyenne glanced briefly at Lumil, who’d walked up to Byrd and now gave him a less-than-gentle nudge in the ribs with her boot. The goblin man slapped her foot away, and their bickering started up again in harsh whispers. The halfling looked at her mom, standing rigid and motionless in front of the Border portal in her backyard. “He’s playing the victim card again, or as much of it as he can pull off.”