The Drow There and Nothing More (Goth Drow Book 3)

by Martha Carr

  “And he brought you this box?”

  “Yep. Said the breakfast room smelled like fae, too, so now he knows who you are.”

  “Oh, jeeze.” Ember rolled her eyes. “It’s always the smell.”

  “Hey, for me, it was the ears.” Cheyenne flicked her High Voltage Raven Black-dyed hair and shook her head. “Glad I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

  “Not when you’re wearing that thing, huh?” The fae nodded at the Heart of Midnight pendant around Cheyenne’s neck, the thin silver chain studded with retied knots.

  “Oh, that. I was thinking more along the lines of having a lot more control over what I look like these days, but yeah. This thing’s about worn out anyway.”

  “I’ve got plenty of chains if you need a new one.”

  “No, I meant the pendant. Apparently, it has a shelf life. But I’m pretty sure—” The buzzing phone in her back pocket cut her off, and she shifted to pull it out before glaring at the screen. “Brace yourself. This might get weird.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Sir himself.” Cheyenne rolled her eyes and accepted the call.

  “Where the fuck is he, halfling?”

  She pulled the phone emitting the shouting voice away from her ear and shot a quick glance at it. “If you mean Rhynehart, he’s still at my mom’s. Where you ordered him to be.”

  “Rhynehart? I’m not talking about Rhynehart!” Sir barely turned away from his phone to let out a stream of profanities. Ember looked at Cheyenne with raised brows, and the halfling shrugged. “I got a call from Chateau D’rahl this morning. L’zar Verdys pulled his second disappearing act in the last twenty-two years. Know anything about it?”

  Shit. She scowled at the road. “No, I don’t know anything about it. I’m not his keeper.”

  “You’re his goddamn daughter, Cheyenne. I want to know where that lunatic drow is. Besides the guards on Alpha Block with cat shit for brains, you’re the last person who talked to him.”

  “I have no idea where he is. Remember that giant opening that showed up out of nowhere at my mom’s house? That’s where my focus has been lately.”

  “Well, re-focus!” Sir let out a deep growl. “I want to see your number on my screen the first time you catch a reeking whiff of that sonofabitch. You hear me?”

  “Kinda hard not to when you’re shouting.”

  “Figure it out.” There was a loud slam and a click, then the line went dead.

  Cheyenne pressed her lips together and tossed her phone into the cubby under the dashboard.

  Ember eyed her warily. “I’d ask what that was about, but I heard the whole thing.”

  “Yeah, the dude’s got serious anger issues. L’zar’s out.”

  “Why?” The fae cocked her head in consideration. “I mean, besides the obvious part about not wanting to spend any more time behind bars, but wasn’t he supposed to be protecting you from something by staying in the prison?”

  “That’s what I thought.” Cheyenne swallowed. “But I passed the drow trials. That means I’m not another dead drow kid he’s trying to groom for his rebellion, so the prophecy’s been blasted to smithereens.”

  A dark-gray blur streaked with white darted down the road toward them. It passed so close to the Panamera that it knocked the back end sideways.

  “Shit!” The car fishtailed on the narrow frontage road, and Cheyenne jerked her foot off the pedal, rocking the steering wheel back and forth to correct the swerve. She got the thing straightened out in seconds and glanced into the rearview mirror. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Woah.” Ember pushed down on the seat with one hand and braced herself against the window with the other.

  “You okay?”

  The fae had gone white, and she heaved a shaky breath. “We almost went off the road.”

  “But we didn’t.”

  The streaking blur backtracked and whizzed past Cheyenne’s window before stopping two yards in front of the car. The halfling slammed on the brakes in a spray of gravel and fine dust, rocking her and Ember forward against their seatbelts. The second she recognized L’zar Verdys standing in the middle of the road, his white hair strewn wildly around his grinning face, Cheyenne slammed her palm on the horn and counted to five.

  He didn’t flinch.

  She dropped her hand into her lap and shifted into park. “What the fuck?”

  Ember’s mouth worked silently until she found her voice. “Who’s that?”

  “Our escaped convict.”

  The fae whipped her head toward Cheyenne and whispered, “That’s L’zar?”

  The drow in question tossed his hair out of his eyes and stepped calmly toward the driver’s side window. Cheyenne glared at him until he rapped gently on the glass with the back of his hand, then slowly rolled the window down. “What are you doing?”

  L’zar ducked his head to peer at his daughter and her friend in the passenger seat. “Looking for you. That’s fairly obvious. It took me forever to track you down, Cheyenne. Take off that damn pendant, will you?”

  Can’t argue with an order straight from the top, can I?

  Without breaking her father’s gaze, the halfling jerked the chain around her neck, which broke as easily as ever, and tossed the whole thing into the cubby with her phone. “Why were you tracking me?”

  The drow sniffed the air delicately and peered around his daughter at Ember. “Your car smells like fae.”

  “L’zar!”

  “Oh, come on. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  “No. You’re standing outside my car in a prison uniform looking like a full-on drow for everyone to see. What are you doing?”

  “I came to help you. Which you’re going to need more than ever from here on out.” His gaze fell on the copper rune-studded legacy box in Ember’s lap, and those glowing golden eyes widened. “You did it.”

  “Yeah, I did it. Trials completed and passed with flying colors, just like saving my own life. You can’t be here.”

  L’zar blinked, his grin widening, and slowly lifted his gaze from the box to his daughter’s face. “I’m pretty sure I’ve just proven I can be wherever I want, Cheyenne.”

  “Are you trying to get locked up again? No, don’t answer that. I got off the phone with the FRoE’s head honcho two minutes ago. They’re pissed that you’re out again.”

  “Naturally.”

  “And they think I know where you are.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  Cheyenne gave an exasperated grimace. “The truth, which was different two minutes ago. I’m sure they have a whole team of freshly geared operatives just itching to find you. So far, you’re making it really easy.”

  “That’s fine.” L’zar glanced at the legacy box one more time, and his grin widened. “We’ll just go back to your place.”

  “No! That’s the first place they’ll look for you. It’s not a secret anymore that I’m your daughter.”

  “Have you opened it yet?”

  “Seriously, enough with the box.”

  His long, slender slate-gray fingers clamped down on the open window as he leaned closer. “Have you?”

  “Not yet. I’m smart enough to save that for somewhere private and safe. Which apparently you’ve forgotten all about.”

  “I want to be there when you do.”

  Cheyenne shrugged. “Fine. I’m calling Corian when I get home, and we’ll deal with it then. You should go find him and get out of the open before you bring down a whole bunch of shit I don’t need on both our heads.”

  L’zar didn’t move, so the halfling slipped her finger under the automatic window button and rolled it up. The corner of the drow’s grinning mouth twitched as he stared at Cheyenne with wide eyes. A tiny bit of pressure from his hands stopped the window with a mechanical whine.

  Cheyenne jerked her hand off the button and gritted her teeth. The next second, her pale skin and dyed-black hair were replaced by the purple-gray flesh and bone-white locks she sh
ared with her drow father, and a burst of violet sparks erupted from her fingers and crackled across L’zar’s hands. He withdrew them slowly from the window, chuckling as he took a step back from the car.

  “Go find Corian,” Cheyenne said as she rolled up the window. “He’s probably at the warehouse. I’ll find you when I’m ready.”

  The window slid into place, and the drow convict smiled. “I can’t wait.”

  Shaking her head, Cheyenne shifted into drive with a quick jerk and took off down the frontage road toward Richmond.

  “Holy shit.” Ember swallowed and glanced at the legacy box in her lap. “And I thought I had dad issues.”

  “It’s all relative, right?”

  Ember barked a laugh as Cheyenne reached for her phone and pulled up Corian’s number. He answered on the second ring.

  “That was fast.”

  “I’m not back yet. Just called to give you a heads up. I’m not the drow who needs a babysitter. You’ve got an old friend heading to the warehouse right now, FYI.”

  “He’s out?”

  “No, Corian. Chateau D’rahl’s taking him on a field trip on account of his good behavior.”

  The nightstalker growled into the phone, “What an idiot.”

  “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

  Corian’s sharp laughter made her pull her phone away. “He just couldn’t wait any longer, could he? Damn. Don’t forget to call me when you’re ready to join the party, kid.”

  “That would be impossible. I’ll be home in less than an hour.”

  “Good.” Another laugh burst through the line, then Corian hung up on her without another word.

  Cheyenne tossed her phone back into the cubby and shook her head. “Here we go.”

  Chapter Four

  Cheyenne opened the front door to the loft apartment she and Ember shared and stepped inside to hold it while Ember wheeled herself through. “Sorry I have to bail right back outta here.”

  “You’re not bailing.” Ember picked up the legacy box and held it out toward the halfling with a smirk. “It’s your destiny or whatever.”

  “Ha.” Cheyenne took the box and turned it over, studying the bigger symbols created from all the tiny runes now locked into their correct positions. “It better have more for me than a crazy-ass drow and a bunch of pissed-off FRoE on my heels.”

  “Fingers crossed.”

  The girls shared a wry laugh, and Cheyenne set the box down on the armrest of the couch before heading into her room. She pulled off her shirt and took a quick whiff. A shower. Tonight. That’s final.

  Her pants dropped on the floor, then she headed toward the glistening black dresser with the silver skulls for knobs on the drawers and rifled through her clothes. She picked a maroon shirt with black fishnet from chest to collar and black skinny jeans. Cheyenne tugged it all on, then shrugged and crossed the room.

  The brown glass jar of Yadje’s healing salve was right where she’d left it in her backpack on the floor, and she twisted off the lid before taking a tentative sniff. Smells awful. Hurts even worse.

  She dipped a finger into the pale, taffy-like salve, twirled it around to get rid of the stringiness, then set the jar down on her black velvet comforter. Grimacing, the halfling smeared a bit of darktongue goo on the palm of one hand and grunted. The grunt turned into a growl as the salve did its work, burning through her hand and bringing tears to her eyes as it sealed the fresh wound from the inside out.

  “You okay?”

  “Just healing myself,” the halfling shouted into the living room. “No big deal.”

  Ember’s wheelchair rolled with a soft rumble across the floor and she stopped outside Cheyenne’s bedroom. “Healing yourself?”

  The halfling nodded toward the jar on the bed. “Free salve from a friend. Apparently, people pay with their own organs or something just to get this much.” She lifted her goo-tipped finger with a shrug, wiped it off on her other hand, and smeared the rest of it over the hole in her other palm. “Oh, dammit.”

  The fae chuckled. “No pain, no gain, right?”

  Cheyenne whirled around to shoot her friend an exasperated glance. “The last time someone told me that, I was barely conscious and strapped to a hospital bed that wasn’t anywhere near a hospital with handcuffs that turned off my magic.”

  Ember wrinkled her nose. “Trigger identified.”

  With a snort, the halfling looked down at her puncture-free hands, then grabbed the jar and screwed the lid back on tight. “A blast from the past. Trust me, you could call me every derogatory term in the book, and it wouldn’t sound as stupid as when Sir says, ‘Good work, halfling.’” The accuracy of her impersonation made her laugh, then she shrugged back into her black jacket, grabbed her backpack, shoved the salve back into the bottom, and nodded at the living room.

  With a raised eyebrow, Ember wheeled backward out of the doorway, and Cheyenne closed the door behind her. “Time to open that box, I guess.”

  “Let me know how that goes.”

  The halfling looked over her shoulder at her friend as she headed for the puzzle box on the couch. “Don’t I always?”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m any less curious about whatever special prize is in there.”

  The Cuil Aní joined the darktongue salve at the bottom of her pack, then she zipped it up and slipped the straps over her shoulders. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a bomb or something. One last test, right? If L’zar’s halfling kid can walk through fire and magical shrapnel, then we’ll know she’s ready.”

  Ember let out a laugh. “You’ll be fine.”

  “I know. I just wanna get this over with.” Cheyenne headed to the door and paused. “You good here, Em? Like, we have food and stuff?”

  “Hey, the fae who’s getting her magic back doesn’t need a babysitter either.” Ember pointed at the door. “Get out.”

  “Yeah, okay. Call me if anything weird happens, huh? Just in case.”

  “Seriously, leave.”

  Smirking, the halfling slipped out the door, closed it behind her, and pulled her phone out of her back pocket as she headed down the hall toward the elevator. I can’t remember the last time I talked this much on the phone in one day.

  Corian picked up as the elevator doors opened. “You ready?”

  “Yeah. I’m heading down to my car right now. You guys all at the warehouse?” The doors closed, and the halfling heard muffled laughter in the background. “Corian?”

  The line went dead, and she stared at her phone. Everyone’s crazy today.

  A dark circle of light bloomed in the air in front of her. The next second, Corian’s feral grin greeted her. His hand snaked out to snatch her wrist, and he tugged her through the portal and into Persh’al’s warehouse in DC.

  Staggering forward, Cheyenne jerked her wrist out of his grip and glanced behind her. The portal was gone. “Come on, man. Seriously?”

  “I know you like your car and everything, kid.” The nightstalker chuckled and folded his arms. “But this is one of those things that really can’t wait.”

  “Yeah, I get that part.” The halfling glanced around and found Persh’al, Byrd, Lumil, and L’zar gathered in front of Persh’al’s tables of computers, all of them grinning at her like insane magicals.

  “Right on, kid.” Byrd slow clapped until Lumil slapped his hands down and shook her head.

  “Uh, thanks?”

  “The trials, Cheyenne.” Lumil folded her arms and nodded, the dark scar encircling her green neck glinting in the warehouse lights as she pursed her lips through a smile. “We weren’t sure you’d get there.”

  “I was.” L’zar had changed into someone’s loose black pants and gray button-down shirt, probably Persh’al’s. The pant legs were a little short.

  Persh’al scoffed. “Oh, yeah? So sure that you played drow prisoner for twenty years longer than you had to?”

  L’zar glanced at his friend and raised an eyebrow. “I knew the second she came to see me in t
he Dungeon.” The drow’s eyes widened as he mocked Chateau D’rahl’s best attempt at a high-security visitation room.

  Cheyenne slipped her pack off her shoulders and headed across the warehouse to set it on the table. She stopped when she saw the magical with cracked silver skin like scales tied to one of the rolling desk chairs with yards of tightly woven nylon rope. His hands were bound behind his back with a magical zip-tie pulsing with electric blue light, and his face was scraped, bloody, and grotesquely swollen. She could see that much, even with his chin dropped to his chest. “Who’s that?”

  “Huh?” Persh’al looked up at their scaly prisoner strapped to the chair and shrugged.

  “Forget about the magical beneath the ropes, kid.” Corian nodded at Lumil, who jumped to attention and took off to wheel the unconscious lizard-looking guy across the warehouse toward what turned out to be a dark supply closet. The chair’s wheels squeaked with every rotation until the goblin woman shoved the magical into the closet and pulled the door shut with a bang.

  She dusted off her hands and marched back to the group with a satisfied nod.

  Cheyenne stared at the closet door, then slowly turned toward Corian. “Is that the guy with all the O’gúl tech?”

  “We can talk about that later.” L’zar clasped his hands behind his back and stepped forward. “I want to watch you open the Cuil Aní.”

  The eyes centered on her made Cheyenne’s skin itch. She cast them all a dubious glance, then finished her trip toward the table and set her backpack down. “Any way you guys can make this a little less creepy?”

  No one said a word.

  “Okay.” She unzipped her backpack and slowly drew out the legacy box, all of its thinly carved runes now glowing with a bright inner light.

  Persh’al sucked in a sharp breath, the box’s light casting a dazzling reflection in his yellow eyes. Byrd’s mouth fell open, and Lumil didn’t bother to elbow him in the ribs to shut it.

  Turning the box over in her hands, Cheyenne shrugged. “It’s not like this thing has a latch or anything.”

  L’zar cleared his throat. “Palimé.”

  “What, now?” The halfling raised her eyebrows.