The Drow Grew Stronger (Goth Drow Book 4)

by Martha Carr

  “Really?” Ember raised an eyebrow as she studied L’zar’s erect posture. “I don’t know, Cheyenne. He looked pretty upset when he realized what happened to her.”

  “L’zar Verdys can look like a lot of things. Upset? Sure.” Cheyenne snorted. “But not because he cares about Bianca Summerlin. That little display of remorse wasn’t for her, Em. That was all for his own gain.”

  The girl turned to look at her friend with luminous violet eyes. “What, you don’t think he has a heart?”

  Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “Leaning toward no, but the jury’s still out on that one.”

  “And the jury’s waiting for what?”

  “Proof.” The halfling gestured at her father. “It’s impossible to tell what’s an act with him and what’s real. Unless he smells like booze.”

  Ember snorted.

  “Seriously, Em. I’ve only see L’zar freak out about someone else’s wellbeing once before, the night this portal ridge exploded out of the ground.”

  “That dinner was going so well.”

  “Yeah.” Cheyenne shot her friend a sidelong glance. Mom really took a liking to her that night. I wonder how she’d feel if she saw Ember as a full-on fae. “L’zar looked out-of-his-mind worried that night when he showed up in my head. He tried to pull it off as being worried about me, but it didn’t stick.”

  “Most people would call that relief to see his daughter alive.”

  “Come on, Em.” Cheyenne wrinkled her nose. “He didn’t wanna make sure I was still alive because I’m his daughter and he loves me. He doesn’t even know me. The only reason he freaked out that night was that me dying would’ve ruined all his plans.”

  “Right.” Ember glanced at Bianca Summerlin. “And you think he fell to his knees and almost broke down sobbing because his plans were ruined again tonight.”

  “Total drow tantrum, Em. That’s it.”

  “Hmm. I have a hard time seeing how the hell Bianca Summerlin would be a part of his plans.”

  Cheyenne shot another look at her father. “It’s hard to see how the hell anything is connected inside that lunatic’s head. L’zar Verdys doesn’t do anything for anyone unless he gets something out of it too. Trust me, Em, I’m not the only one who sees that. There’s no way that was genuine remorse and sadness without some ulterior motive.”

  Ember shrugged. “Unless it was, right?”

  “I guess.” With a sigh, Cheyenne closed her eyes and briefly shook her head, hunching over her crossed legs. “I don’t think I can handle entertaining the idea that he’s grieving over her being caught up in Ba’rael’s curse because he cares.” Not after he spent one night with her and knocked her up, then left her alone with no help at all for twenty-one years. You don’t do that to someone you care about.

  “There’s no chance for him, then,” Ember said to her friend and eyed the half-drow. “You’ll drop him as soon as he’s lost his usefulness, huh?”

  “I know what you’re trying to do, Em.” In human form now that the immediate danger had passed, Cheyenne snorted. “I’m not L’zar. For now, I’ll stick with thinking he’s a selfish asshole because he keeps proving me right.”

  “Okay.”

  Cheyenne frowned at her Nós Aní. “What’s that about?”

  Ember feigned cluelessness. “What?”

  “Come on. ‘Okay?’” Cheyenne wiggled her head in a mocking impersonation. “Spit it out, fae girl.”

  “Ha.” Ember shrugged and looked at the orange and pink sky stretching above the forest behind the Summerlin estate. “I’m wondering what you think would change if it turns out he’s not. A selfish asshole, I mean.”

  “Huh. Not very likely.”

  “That’s not an answer, and it’s not what I asked.”

  Cheyenne snorted. “If he turned out to be anything else, Em, I guess I’d have to give him more credit. You know, for having a conscience.” She gave an exaggerated shudder at the thought. “Not something I’m excited about.” He won’t give me credit for anything, either. And I guess I’m falling in line behind all the other O’gúleesh who’ve made holding a grudge into a lifestyle.

  Rhynehart approached them slowly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Ember. Cheyenne watched him with a raised eyebrow until he stopped in front of them and cleared his throat. “That asshole dad of yours and his minions are distracting my guys.”

  She shrugged. “Why are you telling me?”

  “Hard to keep their heads in the game when the Chateau D’rahl’s most wanted is sittin’ over there like the drow Dalai Lama. Are these guys hangin’ around forever or what?”

  “I have no clue.” Cheyenne stared at him until he cast her an uncomfortable sideways glance. “And I thought your guys were more professional than that.”

  Rhynehart swallowed and stared straight ahead at the portal ridge and Bianca’s rigid form. “They are, and you know it. But this whole thing, whatever you’re cooking up, goes way beyond professional, halfling.”

  “Deal with it.” To prove her point, Cheyenne laid back on the grass and clasped her hands behind her head. “No one’s going anywhere until L’zar comes up with an answer.”

  “To what?”

  “Huh. I don’t know, Rhynehart. I wonder why we’re all sitting around in my mother’s backyard.” She closed her eyes. He smells pissed off. Good. “If you stay professional, your agents will have to suck it up.”

  Rhynehart grunted and studied the meditating L’zar. “What’s he doing over there?”

  “Meditating,” Cheyenne and Ember said together, then the fae laughed.

  Cheyenne grinned. “Only time he’s not insane. You should try it sometime. How’s your blood pressure?”

  The agent looked down at her with a frown, but Cheyenne didn’t open her eyes. “A hell of a lot lower than your housekeeper’s, I can tell you that much.”

  “Shit.” Opening her eyes, Cheyenne pushed herself up and looked at Ember. “She’s in there all by herself. I need to go talk to her.”

  “I’ll come with you.” In a flash of violet light, Ember rose in one fluid movement to hover above the grass.

  Rhynehart forgot all about the halfling rising to her feet as he stared at the inch of space between Ember’s shoes and the ground. “What the hell is that?”

  “Magic, man.” Ember spread her arms and raised an eyebrow. “What else?”

  His mouth opened silently but he didn’t reply, and the fae turned to float after Cheyenne as the halfling stalked across the lawn toward the house.

  “Hey.” Lumil watched them leave and nudged Byrd again with the toe of her boot. “Deadly duo on the move.”

  “Huh?” The goblin man shot up off the grass and looked after Cheyenne and Ember. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

  “Man, I wouldn’t step into your head for a lifetime supply of grog. A lifetime.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Byrd scrambled to his feet, and the goblins took off after the halfling and her Nós Aní.

  When Cheyenne reached the base of the flagstone steps that led up the hillside, she stopped and turned around. “What are you doing?”

  The goblins froze six feet away. Byrd’s shoulders sagged. “Aw, come on.”

  “We want a peek inside, halfling.” Lumil nodded at the sweeping veranda jutting from the back of the house. “Place like that? I bet it looks even bigger when you’re standing at those windows, am I right?”

  Cheyenne rolled her eyes and followed Ember up the stairs. The goblins exchanged glances, then hurried toward the first step. A crackling sphere of black drow energy shot from Cheyenne’s hand and struck the ground in front of them in a burst of dirt and grass. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Lumil hissed at the hole.

  Byrd rubbed his bald head. “Tough nut to crack, huh?”

  “Yeah, like you even have any.”

  “What the hell?”

  The goblin woman nodded at the house again. “What d’you think she’s hiding up there?”

&n
bsp; “Pshh. Everything.”

  “Yeah.” Lumil squinted up the stairs as Cheyenne and Ember disappeared around the bushes lining the side of the house. “That’s what I thought.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Before she even opened the front door of her mom’s house, Cheyenne heard the sobs. “Oh, jeez.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Eleanor’s finally had a chance to let it all sink in.” The halfling opened the door and stepped inside. “Eleanor?”

  A rising wail echoed beneath the high, vaulted ceilings.

  Cheyenne and her friend exchanged knowing glances, and as she headed around the massive staircase rising up the center of the house, Ember flicked her fingers at the front door and gently shut it in a flash of violet light.

  “It’s Ember and me,” Cheyenne called. “Wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

  She turned behind the jutting rise of the stairwell and found the housekeeper in front of the wet bar beneath the stairs. Eleanor was sprawled on the polished hardwood floor, her forehead pressed against her arm as her body heaved with sobs. The glass cabinet beneath the bar was open, and an empty highball glass rested on the tray up top.

  “What happened?” Ember asked.

  Eleanor wailed again and shook her head. “I reached for the vodka first. For myself. Just like she always used to. It was her favorite.”

  Another sob escaped her, followed by a shuddering breath and a long, low moan.

  “Whoa, okay.” Cheyenne stepped toward the housekeeper and squatted beside her. “She didn’t die, Eleanor.”

  “Oh, God!” The woman lifted her head just long enough for another keening cry before she doubled over in sobs again.

  “Wrong thing to say, apparently.”

  Ember pressed her lips together and watched the housekeeper losing it.

  “Okay, Eleanor. Come on.” Cheyenne helped the woman up as gently as she could. The woman didn’t fight the help, her face scrunched in distress. Her chest heaved, and she couldn’t decide whether to breathe out or in.

  Together, the halfling and the fae half-walked, half-carried Eleanor across the spacious dining room and deposited the woman on the chaise longue across from the sofa. Eleanor slumped onto the cushion and buried her face in her hands for more sobbing.

  “You still want vodka?”

  The housekeeper wailed.

  Ember leaned toward Cheyenne and muttered, “Maybe stop talking ‘til she’s had at least one, huh?”

  “What? None of that was insensitive.”

  “No, but I think she needs something stronger than words at this point.” With a raised eyebrow, Ember returned to the wet bar and made Bianca’s housekeeper a stiff vodka tonic with a freshly cut lime wedge on the rim of the glass. She floated smoothly back to Eleanor and bent in front of the woman. “Here you go. Focus on this for a second, huh?”

  Sniffling, Eleanor looked up at the offered glass and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She froze when she saw Ember’s hands, unnaturally pink for anyone but a fae. The woman slowly lifted her head and gazed at Ember’s new full-blooded fae look. Her mouth dropped open. “Ember?”

  “Hi, Eleanor.” The fae set the glass in the woman’s hands, and Eleanor raised the drink to her lips without looking away.

  “What happened to you?”

  “I mean, the short version is nothing. Technically.”

  “She’s a fae, Eleanor.” Cheyenne sat on the loveseat beside the chaise and propped her forearms on her thighs. “You already knew she was part of this whole world.”

  “I did.” Eleanor took a long drink, stared blankly at the ice in her glass, then gazed up at Ember again. “I didn’t realize you were… Are you like Cheyenne, then?”

  “Um, beyond the magic part?”

  “Part human.”

  “Oh.” Ember smiled at the woman and floated over to take a seat in the armchair. “Nope. Both my parents are fae, and I was born here on Earth.”

  “Earth.” Eleanor took a long gulp of the vodka tonic. “Makes it sound like we’re dealing with aliens.”

  “I’m pretty sure aliens aren’t a thing,” Cheyenne muttered.

  “But do you know?”

  “Well, no. Never crossed my mind, honestly.”

  “Hmm.” Eleanor took another drink, and the vodka finally hit. She leaned back against the chaise and stared at Ember. “Pink.”

  “Is it bothering you?”

  The housekeeper barked a laugh. “Absolutely not. Can I be perfectly honest with you two?”

  Cheyenne held back a laugh. “Might as well.”

  Eleanor slugged down another huge, boozy swallow. “I’ve always wanted to know more about your world, Cheyenne. I’m fascinated. If it weren’t for your mother, I would’ve asked a lot more questions far sooner.”

  “Oh.” Cheyenne cocked her head and couldn’t help but smile. “I’m right there with you.”

  “She does have a way with off-limits topics, doesn’t she?” Eleanor chuckled and stared into her two-thirds-empty glass. “Then again, the magical world didn’t seduce me for one night and leave me with a child who can do that.” She gestured at Cheyenne with a flip of her hand.

  “Ha. What’s that, exactly?”

  “Everything about you, sweetheart. Lord knows I love you to death.”

  “Love you too, Eleanor.” Cheyenne and Ember exchanged quick glances, and the fae nodded. “She’s gonna be okay.”

  “Cheyenne, if you’re involved, I know she will be. It’s a shock.”

  “I know. None of us expected anything like this.”

  The housekeeper sniffed and took a much more demure sip. “Do you know what happened to her?”

  “Kind of, and I’m happy to tell you about it if you really wanna know.” I have no idea what she thinks. Never got this far without Mom butting in and telling me to shut up about it Bianca-style.

  “I have no problem with the topic, sweetheart.”

  “Okay. This is probably gonna end up being a giant conversation about magic, other worlds, and overthrowing asshole rulers. You sure you wanna hang around for it?”

  When Eleanor finished downing the rest of her drink in one breath, she set the glass on the side table and turned to fix Cheyenne with an unwavering stare. “I’ve been working for your mother for over twenty years, Cheyenne. What can’t I handle at this point?”

  Ember grinned. “Wow. I like Eleanor and vodka.”

  “Don’t think that’s the vodka talking, honey.”

  The fae raised her hands with a soft laugh. “Not a chance.”

  “All right.” Cheyenne nodded at the housekeeper, then took a deep breath. “Basically, Mom’s been unintentionally cursed, I guess.”

  “Cursed.”

  “By someone in the other world, Ambar’ogúl.”

  Eleanor burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. I heard you say ‘hamburger.’”

  Cheyenne sat back on the loveseat and shook her head. “Close enough.”

  “Well, go on. Keep going.” The housekeeper patted her graying bun and nodded. “I’ll keep my comments to myself.”

  “Okay. The Crown cursed L’zar when we were over there, and somehow it slipped through the portal and hit Mom at the same time.”

  “The Crown.”

  “Oh, boy.” Cheyenne ran a hand through her hair. “So, this is where things get weird. Fair warning.”

  Eleanor twirled her hand for Cheyenne to continue.

  “L’zar’s sister is the ruler of Ambar’ogúl.”

  “But not for much longer,” Ember added. “Cheyenne’s next in line.”

  “My God.” Eleanor tilted her head and studied the girl she’d helped raise as if seeing her for the first time. “How long have you known this?”

  “About four days.”

  “Four days! Is she sick or something?”

  “What?”

  “Your aunt.”

  Cheyenne grimaced. “I’m not calling her that, Eleanor. She’s not really aunt mater
ial.” Come to think of it, L’zar and Bianca aren’t parent material, either.

  “How are you next in line? Is there some kind of vote? An age limit?”

  “She’s been the Crown for a few thousand years, Eleanor. An age limit would be pretty pointless.”

  “We staged a coup.” Ember grinned.

  “Ah, yes.” Eleanor frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m familiar with the term, but I still don’t understand.”

  “We stormed the castle and took it by force. More or less.”

  “Oh.” The housekeeper nodded, then stood. “I’ll need another drink for this one.”

  Cheyenne and Ember looked at each other and held back their laughter. At least Eleanor was capable of pouring her own drink this time.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  “And that’s basically where we are now.” Cheyenne finished her human-appropriate retelling of the last few weeks and crossed an ankle over her other knee. “L’zar’s out there meditating on how to pull Mom out of that curse, and then we have eleven days to pull everything together before we go force Ba’rael Verdys off the throne and choose someone else to sit on it instead of me.”

  Eleanor blinked rapidly and lifted her glass. “Naturally.”

  “But the most important thing right now,” Cheyenne continued, speaking more to Ember, “is focusing on what’s happening with the FRoE.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Ember nodded. “Did you find him?”

  “I did more than that.”

  “Who, now?”

  Cheyenne squinted. Really, it’s the least sensitive information I could possibly give her. “Magical Special Ops, more or less.”

  Eleanor took a sharp breath and perked up in realization. “Those men in black you fought in the drive.”

  “Yeah. Same guys who are down there in the yard. Rhynehart’s the one who took the phone from you when you called me. You met him before.”

  “Bianca’s the one who remembers names and faces, Cheyenne. I just serve the drinks.” Eleanor gave her a tight smile and lifted her mostly full second glass. “I’m amazed he even agreed to show his face on this property again after what happened last time.”