by Martha Carr
“Hey.” The halfling jerked her arm out of his grasp and scowled at her father. “I know how this works.”
“I know, Cheyenne.” L’zar took a deep breath and watched Venga, who stood stock-still on the asphalt, his glittering black eyes flicking to Persh’al’s black SUV filled with his rescuers. The siren still blared behind them.
Cheyenne turned and waved Corian forward. “What are you doing? Come on.”
“Go take care of your business with that one, kid.” The nightstalker nodded at Venga’s hunched, scaly back. “Let me take care of mine.”
“What are you talking about?” The portal closed with a pop, and Cheyenne hissed, “Are you kidding me?”
“By the blood of Op’paro,” Persh’al said, leaning halfway out of the driver’s side door and staring at the massive magical standing in front of the SUV. “Nobody said shit about driving around a fucking mountain!”
“We can’t fit him in the car,” Maleshi said as she closed the door behind her. “But we can at least make him look like he’ll fit.”
L’zar shook his head. “We wait for Corian.”
Lumil rolled down the back driver’s side window and thrust a hand toward the huge complex of Chateau D’rahl a mile in front of them, which was mostly hidden by the high line of thick bushes that also hid their vehicle. “Man, that place is falling apart. Sirens. Flashing lights. And you just wanna wait!”
“We will wait.” The drow thief pointed at the goblin and fixed her in his glowing golden stare. “Quietly.”
Venga chuckled and crouched even lower in front of the SUV.
With a hiss, Lumil slapped the outside of the car and slumped back against the seat before rolling the tinted window all the way up again.
Cheyenne eyed the high-security magical prison going into lockdown and shook her head. “What the hell’s so important that Corian had to stay behind?”
L’zar shrugged. “That’s his business, don’t you think?”
* * *
As soon as Corian closed the portal into the empty lot, he lifted his hands again and cast another in the same place. The siren wailed overhead, echoing inside the tank as the red light spilled across the chamber. The red light fell through his newest portal too, streaking across the damp stone floor in an otherwise lightless room. It looked a little like blood.
The nightstalker gazed into the dark room, his silver eyes glowing brightly. Then he grinned. “Oh, you’re going to love this. Time for a change of scenery.”
Chapter Seventy-Five
The second Maleshi opened a much larger portal in the lot outside Chateau D’rahl, Corian’s next portal opened in the air beside it, and he stepped quickly through with a feral grin. Behind him, the wailing siren was punctuated by panicked screams and incoherent pleas. The portal closed behind him with a pop, and the empty lot fell silent.
Cheyenne stared at him and folded her arms. “Do we have your permission to leave now?”
“I didn’t ask you to stay.” The nightstalker flicked bits of crumbled stone and what looked like a chipped claw off his shoulder and headed for the car. His silver eyes met Maleshi’s gaze. “But I’m glad you did.”
“And I’m done waiting here for everyone else to get their shit together. Warehouse.” Though the general pointed sternly at the huge portal she’d opened in front of the SUV, large enough to fit the crouching, heavily breathing creature called Venga, a tiny smile flickered at the corner of her mouth before she stalked toward the extra-large window of wavering light.
Persh’al started the engine and rolled the driver’s side window down to jerk his chin up at Cheyenne. “What about your FRoE friends?”
“They’ll be fine. They deal with this kind of chaos all the time, and for the most part, they clean up pretty well.”
In the front passenger seat, Ember leaned forward to meet Cheyenne’s gaze. “Even with their bosses?”
Cheyenne snorted and flipped Chateau D’rahl the middle finger. “Those guys in there aren’t Rhynehart’s bosses. He can handle it.”
With a shrug, Persh’al slowly drove the SUV through Maleshi’s portal back to his warehouse. Cheyenne shoved her hands in her pockets and stalked after it.
“One more relocation, Venga.” L’zar grinned at the enormous magical, craning his neck to meet the creature’s gaze. “Then you and I will have an opportunity to chat.”
“It will be more than that, Weaver.” Venga grinned right back, his razor-sharp teeth covered with yellow flecks of who-knew-what. A glistening forked gray tongue flickered out between his teeth as he stooped over L’zar. “I look forward to it.”
“Oh, as do I. Very much, in fact.” The drow thief gestured at the portal, and Chateau D’rahl’s only two escaped magical inmates walked side by side through the overlarge portal and disappeared.
When the portal closed behind them, Persh’al, Byrd, Lumil, and Ember stood beside the SUV, staring at Venga as he stomped his huge clawed feet across the cracked and overgrown parking lot of the warehouse. Dust and bits of crumbled asphalt kicked up beneath the creature’s every step. Venga snarled and looked slowly around, the four shoulders of his tense arms curved in a perpetual hunch.
Persh’al rubbed his head. “I’ll say it right now, man. No way we’re getting this guy inside.”
Venga’s thick neck twisted sharply as he spun to face Persh’al, his head tilting almost ninety degrees before he took a crunching step forward. “I have spent the last five years inside a metal can, troll. You will not put me inside anything else.”
“Hey, sure. No problem.” Persh’al raised both hands and stepped back until he thumped against the SUV’s hood. “Probably not the best idea for all of us to be standing outside the wards for everyone else to see, though. Just sayin’.”
The scaly magical whirled to L’zar again. “We’ll speak here, Weaver. I have a lot to do now that you’ve freed me.”
“I have no doubt.” The drow thief stared into Venga’s black eyes, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the Nimlothar leaf, pulsing weakly with purple light.
Venga hissed and hunched even farther to peer at the leaf. “How did you get that?”
“It was sent to me. But that hardly matters, does it?”
“If you freed me from one prison just to keep me in another, L’zar, I assure you I have nothing to lose by ripping your grinning face off that tiny neck of yours.”
Lumil sniggered at the threat but stepped slowly sideways to put the SUV’s hood between herself and the giant magical in a stare-down with L’zar Verdys. Byrd shook his head and stepped away from her in the opposite direction.
“No more prisons, Venga.” L’zar twirled the Nimlothar leaf between his fingers. The scaly magical hissed, his cracked lizard-like lips twitching into a sneer as those black eyes caught every movement of the leaf.
Cheyenne cocked her head. If L’zar’s breaking into hypnotism now, I’m done.
“It’s time for a trade, Venga.” L’zar stared up into the hissing magical’s face. “You get this when I get what I want.”
One of Venga’s four arms bent, and five-inch black claws twice as thick as regular fingers scratched the mottled scales of his chest. The scraping rasp made Cheyenne’s nostrils flare. Even worse were the dead scales peeling from Venga’s flesh and crumbling to the cracked asphalt with a shower of dirt, flakes of dead skin, and yellow-white clumps that looked a lot like maggots. Venga’s eyes never left the Nimlothar leaf. “And what is it you want, Weaver?”
L'zar leaned away from the escaped prisoner and raised his eyebrows. “The Darkglass.”
Venga grunted. “The Darkglass was not meant for you.”
“True. But it’s hardly being used as intended now, is it?”
“It rots with the rest of my endowments.”
“Ah.” The drow slowly lowered his hand and deposited the leaf back into his pocket with a shrug. “Well if we’re bringing your endowments into this—”
Venga hissed viciously and extended al
l four arms as he took one more crunching step toward L’zar, all four clawed hands outstretched.
Looks like that promise to rip off L’zar’s head is about to be a real thing. Cheyenne shot Corian a questioning glance. The nightstalker lifted a finger for her to wait and shook his head slightly.
“What other price have you set?” Venga snarled at L’zar.
The drow thief cocked his head. “None so far. Other than the Darkglass, of course.”
“Do you know how I came to be wrapped in chains and darkness, Weaver?”
“I have a vivid imagination, Venga. I can imagine. I’m offering my assistance in reclaiming what was taken from you. Do we have a deal?”
The huge magical’s spine cracked like snapping branches when Venga drew himself to his full height. His long, broad shadow fell across the SUV, and Persh’al shrank against the hood. A shuddering laugh escaped the blue troll, then he glanced quickly at L’zar and slid away from his vehicle before darting to the warehouse door.
“I’ll accept your assistance, Weaver,” Venga hissed. “And your token. Everything else we may find belongs to me.”
“Done.”
Venga’s thick tail bashed the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. Chunks of broken black rock sprayed up around him and pelted the SUV like hailstones. Persh’al didn’t say a word. Then the giant magical turned to eye everyone staring at him. “Has anyone heard of Felgar’s Horn?”
Corian shook his head. Persh’al, Lumil, and Byrd were frozen where they stood, staring at Venga as if they’d never seen a magical. Maleshi looked at L’zar. “No word of it.”
“Then nothing has changed much while I’ve been contained.” Venga snorted, and a spray of thick yellow-white mucus shot from his flat nostrils to splatter the asphalt. “I’ll take you there. My endowments and the Darkglass have become well acquainted, I imagine.”
“Yes.” L’zar kicked out one heel and bowed at the waist, gesturing at the open street beyond Persh’al’s abandoned warehouse. “Then by all means, do lead the way.”
“Uh, hello?” Persh’al glanced nervously up and down the street. “Escaped convict bigger than a bus, here. Does nobody see an issue with this?”
“No issue.” Maleshi stepped over to L’zar and Venga. “Until what belongs to you is returned, I can at least make you look whole.”
A low growl escaped the ex-prisoner, but he didn’t object or move away from the general as she slowly raised her hands. With a quickly whispered incantation and a brief twist of her fingers, Maleshi’s spell bloomed from her fingertips in a web of silver light. Venga’s eyes narrowed. The light engulfed him, and when it faded, it left behind a thin, pale, hunched man with scraggly gray hair falling over his shoulders.
Venga raised his human-looking hands, studied them, and scowled. “Far less than whole, General Hi’et.”
“And the rest of the world will be none the wiser.” She dipped her head and clasped her hands behind her back. “Where are we headed?”
“Felgar’s Horn is two miles south of the DC city line.” Venga’s human hair swung beside his haggard face when he turned to look at Corian. “I cannot hide my trail.”
“We’ll do it for you.” The nightstalker nodded and opened another massive portal.
Persh’al groaned and stepped away from the warehouse door. “It’s like nobody even cares about being seen out here.”
L’zar shrugged. “We’re keeping our eyes on the much bigger prize, Persh’al. Let the rest work itself out.”
“Oh, sure. Yeah. Work itself out while we get ported across the state fifty times in one day.” The troll stalked over to the portal and tossed his hand at it. “So, who’s leading the way?”
Venga’s scraggly gray human eyebrows drew together as he looked Persh’al up and down. “You don’t listen very well, do you?”
“I guess that’s you, then. We’ll follow the old man.” The troll clapped his hands together and waited for everyone else to move toward the portal. The other magicals cast their human illusions again.
Cheyenne slipped out of her drow form and met Ember’s gaze as the fae reached into her pocket and slid on the illusion-charm ring. Her pink skin and luminous purple eyes disappeared, but when she glanced down at her feet, they still hovered half an inch off the asphalt. “Here’s hoping nobody notices.”
“Trust me, Em. Out of everyone in this weird-looking group, you’ll draw the least amount of attention.”
Byrd and Lumil followed hesitantly. The goblin man pointed at the shadow moving across the asphalt behind Venga, which stretched three times longer and wider than it should have. “He didn’t really shrink, did he?”
Lumil elbowed him in the ribs. “Man, Maleshi’s not stupid enough to even try shifting someone else. Especially not that hulking pile of scales.”
Venga headed for the portal, and though it stretched at least six feet over the top of his human-looking head, he ducked and hunched his shoulders even tighter before passing through. The rest of L’zar’s rebels followed quickly and quietly. L’zar wore his usual grin, though no one else seemed to find this odd turn of events amusing in the slightest.
When the portal closed behind them, they stood in the center of a relatively quiet DC neighborhood, the street empty in the middle of the day. Cheyenne looked at Maleshi as the general walked up beside her. “You had to cast an illusion for him?”
“Oh, good.” The general cocked her head. “I’m glad that was what it looked like.”
“Huh. Guess I’m not the only magical who can’t cast spells.”
Venga’s hooked human nose was the first thing she saw before his head turned farther so he could look at her over his hunched shoulder. “Did you leave your magic behind in an O’gúl vessel too?”
“Uh, no.”
“Hmm.” He stared at her for a moment, then turned around again and shuffled slowly down the street.
Cheyenne shot Maleshi a sidelong glance and whispered, “Magic in a vessel?”
“Everyone’s got different ways of dealing with their issues, kid.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
Ember cleared her throat. “What exactly is this Felgar’s Horn place we’re going to?”
Venga hissed, which was weird coming from a stooped old man with long, stringy hair and dark circles under his eyes. “The Bull’s Head Earthside vault.”
Chapter Seventy-Six
Ember cocked her head and stopped in the middle of the residential street. “The what now?”
“That is Felgar’s Horn,” Venga grumbled. “And that is where we will all find what we seek.”
“And by ‘we,’ you pretty much mean you and L’zar, huh?”
The newly liberated prisoner didn’t answer. Cheyenne waited for Ember to catch up with her so they could all keep moving.
“Is this guy for real?”
Cheyenne shrugged. “Wish I could say magical prisoners broken out of Chateau D’rahl have no reason to lie about something like this, but my only experience so far is with L’zar.”
“Yeah, but,” Ember leaned in to whisper, “The Bull’s Head Earthside vault? I mean, I can’t even pick which part of that is the most disturbing.”
“I know. But if Venga can take us right to the Bull’s Head, we’re hitting two birds with one stone, right?”
The fae cast Cheyenne a sidelong glance. “That was a missed opportunity.”
“For what?”
Ember shrugged. “I would’ve gone with something like ‘hitting two magical deals with one vault raid’ or something. Maybe that sounded better in my head.”
Cheyenne snorted. “Well, however we wanna say it, if Felgar’s Horn is still where Venga thinks it is, and the Bull’s Head is still there, we get the chance to wipe them out, handle the war-machine problem, and snag this last piece L’zar seems to think is so important for me to dictate my terms to the Crown.”
They followed the rest of the group in silence for a moment, then Ember muttered through the side
of her mouth, “I seriously hope we can trust this escaped convict a lot more than the last one.”
“That makes two of us, Em.”
The group of magicals disguised as an odd assortment of humans following an old, hunched, homeless-looking man walked another three blocks through the neighborhood before the streets started to narrow. Then Venga pointed a crooked finger down the next intersection and turned right. “This way.”
A blue Ford Focus parked on the corner squealed and wobbled as Venga took the right turn. The front wheels slammed up onto the sidewalk, but the ex-prisoner kept moving and paid it no attention. Cheyenne frowned at the car and turned behind the others down the much narrower side street, which was practically an alley. As Venga passed down the center, cars on either side of him squealed and indented, shoved aside by an unseen force. Two car alarms activated and blared.
Lumil gestured at a Subaru parked by the curb. The car’s back fender crumpled and the vehicle bumped the car parked in front of it as Venga moved past it. “Anybody else see something wrong with this?”
Maleshi flicked her fingers at the crashed cars, and the alarms stopped. “Nothing to see, really. Can’t change the guy’s size, just the way it’s perceived.”
“Well, that’s great.” Persh’al staggered across the narrow side street as the rear tire of a Chevy Malibu on the left burst with a hiss, throwing shreds of rubber in their path. “Here we are, in broad daylight, following an old geezer who’d rather bash into every car than take a shower.”
“You saw how big he is,” Byrd muttered. “I’m amazed he can walk down this street at all.”
Corian turned around to walk backward with the group and raised his hands. Quick, precise movements and a few muttered O’gúleesh words brought a dimly strobing light to his fingers. The crushed, dented, and scraped cars flashed too, and the metal sides reworked themselves.
Cheyenne looked over her shoulder at the sideways-parked cars, many of them with their headlights and taillights broken out. The Malibu’s rear passenger tire was still nothing but a flap of rubber. “You missed a few.”
