Quote the Drow Nevermore

by Martha Carr

  “Guard named Ranzig didn’t show up for duty at Rez 38’s gate tower. It makes sense if he was poking around the construction site instead. Wait.” Rhynehart stepped back toward the counter and knocked on it again. “Pull up the guy’s address, huh?”

  “Sure thing. Hold on.” The guard typed away at his keyboard and froze. “What the hell?”

  “You better explain that one right now,” Rhynehart muttered.

  “It’s, uh, not pulling anything up.”

  “Well, check again.”

  The guard nodded quickly and typed away, clicking around before more typing. “Sorry, sir. There’s nothing in here for Ranzig Ca’admar.”

  “Who the hell’s been shittin’ in the goddamn pool?” Sir shouted. “Somebody better have a good explanation!”

  “He’s not an agent.” Cheyenne stared at the men around her. Are they seriously not getting this? “Bet you’ll find his name and an address if you look in your other system.”

  Rhynehart turned back to the guard. “Can you pull up the B.I.T.CH from here too?”

  “We’re the highest-security prison for magicals on this side of the border, sir.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Why the hell are we poking the B.I.T.CH for this kerfuckle?” Sir bellowed.

  Rhynehart nodded at the guard behind the counter. “Just run the name!”

  Cheyenne snorted. “Someone really needs to tell me what this B.I.T.CH is.”

  The FRoE operative shot her a quick, dismissive glance. “The Borderlands Immigration Tracking Channel. Cute, I know.”

  The guard typed and typed, his eyes scanning what was obviously way more information popping up on his screen. “Got it. Ranzig Ca’admar. Pure G-class. Came over May seventh at Rez Twenty-one. Last registered address—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.” Rhynehart slammed his elbows on the counter and rubbed his forehead. “When did Ca’admar get his first post at Rez 38?”

  The guard blinked. “You want me to go back into the duty log?”

  “That’s how you’d find it, isn’t it? Wait. Print out the writeup on Ca’admar, then go check the logs. Gives you one less reason to wanna shoot me.”

  “Rhynehart.” Sir had folded his arms and now stared at the agent with more quivering rage than Cheyenne had ever seen in the man.

  “Just give it a minute.”

  Trying not to roll his eyes, the guard switched gears. It took a little longer to find what he was looking for this time. “Okay, yeah.” He snatched the printout with Ranzig’s info on it and slid it through the slot beneath the tempered glass. “Ca’admar started the second week of June.”

  “Motherfucker.” Rhynehart slammed his fist on the counter, crumpled the printed sheet in one hand, and hightailed it for the front doors of Chateau D’rahl. Cheyenne took off after him, and Major Sir Carson growled again before bringing up the rear.

  “You better start flappin’ those lips, Rhynehart.”

  “Ca’admar took the goddamn post a week before Q’orr’s shit got smuggled off the rez.”

  The doors shut behind them, and Cheyenne paused for two seconds as Sir barreled after Rhynehart with a sharp, “Fuck!”

  I knew it. She hustled to catch up with Rhynehart in the parking lot in the middle of nowhere, waiting for their next move. Now we’re gonna get those kids.

  “I’m gonna go drown myself in my office before I have to see any more of this goddamn mess,” Sir shouted, breaking off toward his orange car. “Rhynehart, take whoever you need. However many you need. Bring the fucking armada.”

  “Sir.”

  The major turned to point at Cheyenne. “Now we’re even.”

  “Sir.”

  “Not another goddamn word.” The man jumped behind the wheel and slammed his door shut. The Rio peeled out of the parking lot before the halfling had reached the passenger side door of the Jeep. She and Rhynehart both hopped in, and the FRoE agent turned to look at her as he started the engine.

  “Whatever kind of secret language you and L’zar Verdys just pulled out of thin air in the damn cave?” He sighed and slapped both hands on the wheel. “Keep it up, rookie. This is all on you, and now we have something to show for it.”

  Cheyenne strapped herself in and studied him as the agent pulled the Jeep out of the parking lot. “I think ‘rookie’ has lost its charm at this point.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll let you know when something catchy comes to me.” He snorted, then nodded at the black sleeping mask on the dash. “Put that back on.”

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “Rules are rules. But I’ll put in a good word after this and see what we can do about changing them.”

  It’s a start, at least. The halfling snatched up the mask and pulled it over her head. Then she had to listen to Rhynehart calling whoever at the FRoE compound to bring in the big guns and send a whole team to Ranzig Ca’admar’s address. “We’ll be there in twenty. No, I seriously doubt the sonofabitch is keeping over two dozen kids in his damn house, but whoever gets there first goes in first. Bag the fucker if he’s home. If not, turn the place upside-down and find us what we’re looking for. Yeah, that’s right.”

  He dropped his cell phone into his lap and let out a long, slow breath as the Jeep took them away from Chateau D’rahl on a route Cheyenne couldn’t see.

  “I know this is the guy,” the halfling muttered. “We’ll find those kids through him.”

  “Yeah, I agree. And I’d bet my left nut he’s the same magical smuggling all Q’orr’s shit off Rez 38.” The agent slapped a hand down on the steering wheel again while the half-drow sat beside him, straight-backed and blinded by the sleeping mask. “You know what I just can’t get over?”

  “No idea.” Cheyenne shrugged. “It could be anything.”

  “I’m serious. How the hell did the little chat with L’zar help you figure all that out? That wasn’t a real conversation.”

  It didn’t have to be. The halfling folded her arms and leaned back. “It’s a drow thing.”

  “Yeah, that’s a top-notch answer.”

  “It’s the only answer you’re gonna get.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Rhynehart’s phone sliced through the silence in the Jeep. Cheyenne heard the man jump in his seat before his hand found the cell phone and he brought it to his ear. “What do you have? Uh-huh. Shit. Good work, Presley. Yeah, we’ll be there. Hey, no one goes in until I’m on-site, you got it? Asses in seats and everything. Damn right, she’ll be there.”

  The phone dropped back into his lap, then the Jeep took a startlingly tight left turn. Cheyenne braced herself against the passenger-side door and hissed, “Who taught you to drive?”

  “You can take the mask off, rookie. Change of plans.”

  The halfling didn’t miss a beat. She jerked the mask off her head, blinking against the evening sunlight. It was just before sunset.

  “My guys went by the goblin’s house. Didn’t find him, but they found some pretty incriminating emails, the way Presley told it. New address, new objective.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Rhynehart shot her a quick glance and nodded. “We’re goin’ in to get those kids. Right now.”

  When they pulled up at a huge three-story house, Cheyenne’s jaw almost dropped. Seven FRoE vehicles had parked in a line down the street, and every single agent had followed their orders.

  “Yeah, asses in seats. Good.” Rhynehart reached into the back seat and picked up another dampening vest before dropping it into the halfling’s lap. “You know the drill.”

  “Yep.” Cheyenne slipped it on and waited for Rhynehart to get out of the Jeep before she followed.

  He moved quickly to the back and pulled out his dampening vest, gloves, and helmet, then closed it and moved up the line of black vehicles toward what was almost a mansion. Rhynehart thumped the door of each vehicle he passed, and the agents inside got out quickly and quietly, already geared up in their dampening armor and with wea
pons at the ready. They opened the trunks to pull out one giant fell rifle after another, and then nearly thirty FRoE agents were storming up toward the house as a single swift, deadly unit.

  Cheyenne caught sight of Yurik as he fastened a utility belt around his waist, loaded with the same round devices Rhynehart had used to pepper the drow halfling in the padded training room. She stopped and waited for him to step onto the sidewalk before he jammed his helmet onto his head and fell in line with the others. “No cannons today?”

  “Working on a new commission, I guess.” Yurik shrugged. “Jamal had the last two.”

  “Great.”

  “Don’t sweat it, Cheyenne.” Bhandi pulled her helmet out from under her arm and nodded at the halfling before pulling the thing over her head. “Fell cannons aren’t the only things that can take down an ogre anymore, are they?”

  She and Yurik chuckled, then they unholstered the fell pistols from their hips, and Yurik handed the troll woman fell grenades from his belt.

  The beefy goblin nudged Cheyenne in the shoulder. “Better gear up too, huh?”

  “What?’

  Bhandi smacked a hand against her helmet. “We need a drow. She better show up before we get inside.”

  As they stormed toward the house, the first agents in line running up the steps to the front door, Cheyenne tried to pull up her drow form. Then she glanced down at the pendant hanging from the chain and grunted. Gotta pick my poison. This has to go. She reached back to unclasp the chain just as the first few FRoE agents knocked down the front door. Shouts and brilliant flashes of green and purple light rose from inside, and her fingers just wouldn’t do their job.

  Snarling, the halfling yanked on the chain and pulled it free. The purple-gray skin and bone-white hair of her drow form took over before she stuffed the Heart of Midnight pendant into her jacket pocket, and then she was running up the front steps beside two FRoE agents she knew a lot better after last night. I trust them. Time to nail those shitheads.

  Corian sat in the basement apartment, scrolling through the newest topic threads posted by desperate parents on the Borderlands forum. With a sigh, the Nightstalker scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. How the hell am I supposed to keep this under wraps as long as I need to? I should be looking for those blood-traitors.

  He started to type out another response to the latest panicked inquiry, then a bright silver flash erupted from his finger. Corian froze. “No. She wouldn’t!”

  The chair scooted back across the cement with a hollow screech when he leaped to his feet, then the Nightstalker stormed across the basement toward the metal shelves full of pretty much everything he needed. The metal box was right there where he’d left it, and he jiggled off the lid again to peer inside. His eyes widened, and he hissed in anger before slamming the lid onto the box again. “Damnit, Cheyenne!”

  The laptop shut with a click beneath his hand, then he pulled down the wards protecting the metal door and stepped out into the crisp autumn evening. I don’t care whose kid she is. This better be the last time I have to save her halfling ass.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Hands up, asshole!”

  A burst of green light hurtled toward the FRoE agent standing just inside the doorway. Whoever it was fired fell darts, then Cheyenne Summerlin burst through the door into the chaos of another FRoE raid—this time on purpose.

  A column of violet fire streaked toward her head, and the drow halfling ducked before sending a missile of crackling black energy toward the sneering goblin who’d attacked her. His blue-green grin disappeared when her spell hit him in the face a second before the fire crashed into the wall behind her. Something heavy and metal toppled to the ground with a clang.

  Cheyenne spun around to see the helmet rolling away from the rest of a fallen suit of armor before she returned to the fight.

  “Jesus, what a place, huh?” Beside her, Yurik fired his fell pistol. The skaxen he’d aimed at dodged the first and caught the rest of the weapons fire in the gut, screaming as he hit the floor.

  “Shitbags in a mansion are still shitbags,” Bhandi said, ducking a flashing attack of red magic spinning toward her like a throwing star. Her fell pistol caught the attacking troll in the hip and then the knee, and she growled when he went down.

  The FRoE spread out across the huge foyer and into the multiple rooms on the first floor, magic and fell darts flying everywhere and obliterating the expensive décor.

  Cheyenne’s lashing black tendrils shot from her hands and wrapped around an orc with his meaty fist clamped down around an agent’s arm. The tendrils whipped around the orc’s wrist and jerked his arm back. The FRoE agent was tossed aside, but the orc was a lot more focused now on the thick coils of drow magic crushing his windpipe.

  The halfling let the orc drop and raised a black, shimmering shield of magic between Yurik and the bullet some asshole had tried to put in his helmet. The bullet pinged off Cheyenne’s shield and the huge, muscular goblin turned toward her, his grin barely visible through the mask of his helmet. “Yeah, I’m stickin’ with you.”

  “I don’t care what you do as long as we find those kids,” Cheyenne snarled. She let off one crackling burst of black energy after another at the screaming, sneering magicals poorly defending their new hiding place. “That’s why we’re here.”

  She moved through the chaos and the multi-colored spells crossing the foyer against fell darts and larger fell explosives. Glass shattered somewhere behind her, and Bhandi nudged Cheyenne forward from behind just before a massive pane of stained glass crashed to the floor where the halfling had stood.

  “We got your back, drow.” The troll woman nodded toward the rest of the battle and the agents destroying the well-kept mansion. “Let’s go.”

  Cheyenne flung attacking magicals aside with her lashing tendrils, ducking under flying spells and weaving around the black-magic targets and FRoE agents alike. Bhandi and Yurik flanked her without a word, picking off their own targets as they moved through the house.

  On the other side of the foyer, a huge, winding staircase led up to the second floor. Five FRoE agents were spread out along the first few steps, exchanging fire with a giant ogre crashing down the staircase toward them. Cheyenne glanced up at the second-floor landing and the balcony overlooking the fight below. Off the top of the stairs was a set of double doors guarded by another ogre and a scrawny orange skaxen. Both of them hurled attack spells into the fray, but they didn’t move from their post beside the door.

  “There! Second floor,” Cheyenne shouted.

  Bhandi and Yurik glanced up at the balcony and nodded.

  The ogre on the staircase let out a mighty bellow and swung a huge fist at the agents in front of him. Most of them leaped aside, firing before one poor bastard took an ogre fist to the side of the helmet. The agent staggered sideways into the staircase banister, and the ogre lifted his fist to bring it down on the stunned operative’s head.

  Cheyenne threw a shield up over the agent’s helmet. The ogre’s fist struck it like a giant gong, and he reeled backward, roaring.

  “Let’s go.”

  She led her new FRoE friends past all the fighting, dodging flying spells and throwing up shields to keep whatever agents she could from getting a face or a belly or a back full of criminal magic. Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of this.

  They reached the bottom of the staircase as the stunned agent against the banister gained his footing. The other four trained their fell weapons on the bellowing ogre. Yurik detached one of the round black grenades from his belt and shouted, “Fellfire in the hole!”

  The agents nearly skidded down the last few steps before the muscular goblin launched the fell grenade. It struck the ogre in the chest and stuck there, flashing green light before it erupted.

  The mansion trembled, and dust and bits of chipped plaster rained down on everyone. The ogre bellowed and crashed against the wall following the staircase.

  “Dammit,” Yurik spat. “They
just don’t go down.”

  The ogre pushed himself back up to his feet, shaking his head. Plaster and drywall spilled off his hulking shoulders. A magical screamed in the foyer before something else exploded, and Cheyenne headed up the stairs. “He will.”

  The agents flanked her as she made her way toward the ogre, who glared at her with heavily lidded eyes. She threw crackling black energy balls and struck the asshole in the hip, belly, and chest. One huge foot crashed down another step toward her, and a dagger of orange magic materialized in his scarred gray palm.

  The halfling sighed. “Ogres and magical weapons, huh?”

  “Looks like it.” Bhandi trained her pistol on the ogre’s hand and fired. The fell shots glanced off the ogre’s wrist before he threw the orange dagger toward the troll woman.

  Cheyenne raised another shield, deflecting the tossed weapon-spell, and advanced up the stairs again. High-pitched laughter came from more than one magical behind her on the first floor, but she ignored it. I’ve got backup. I better.

  The ogre moved faster than she expected, flinging orange daggers left and right with both hands. The halfling managed to raise a shield in front of each intended target—mostly herself—but couldn’t get enough downtime to attack. Then the skaxen and the other ogre guarding the door upstairs started flinging spells at the FRoE agents and the drow halfling. A shrill, maddened cackle escaped the skaxen’s gaping orange mouth.

  Bhandi aimed her weapon at the balcony and squeezed off a quick round. The banister exploded in shards of green light and wood, then the magicals upstairs were fully engaged too.

  “We’ll keep ‘em busy,” another agent shouted.

  Cheyenne dodged another orange dagger from the ogre’s huge fist and used that moment to lash out with her black tendrils. They curled around the hulking gray magical’s wrists, tightening instantly. For a moment, the half-drow and the ogre struggled against each other, their strength nearly matched. Then the ogre quit trying to spread his arms and jerked them up instead.