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

by Martha Carr

  “I’m assuming this is going on your beefy friend’s tab too,” the tavern owner grumbled. The intricate gold designs encircling her tusks glinted in the low light as she stuck her hands on her hips.

  “Nothing changes that much in a few days, Ogsa.” Bhandi grabbed the pitchers and raised them in a double-fisted salute. “It’s always on Yurik’s tab.”

  Yurik had been leaning against the bar, watching Ember’s entrance with a crooked smile. When he heard Bhandi say his name, he blinked, straightened, and turned to face her. “Wait a minute.”

  The troll woman had already whirled away from the bar and was headed toward their regular table in the back corner, where Tate waited with three empty tankards.

  With a grunt, Yurik turned back toward Ogsa and shrugged. “Yeah. I guess it’s on my tab.”

  “And when, exactly, are you going to pay that tab, huh?” The orc woman leaned away from the bar and folded her arms. “It’s been open for at least two months.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He scratched his head. “I’ll bring you your money next time. How’s that?”

  “Hardly convincing is what it is.” Ogsa’s yellow eyes darted toward Ember and Cheyenne making their way toward the bar. When she recognized the halfling, a low, deep chuckle burst out of her. “Back for more, huh?”

  “Hey, Ogsa.” Cheyenne stopped at the bar beside Yurik and gave the tavern owner a fleeting, tight-lipped smile. “I’d promise not to redecorate your tavern this time, but it’s not up to me if some idiot decides they want to fight me again.”

  “Ha!” Ogsa slapped her side of the bar. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna mess with you after last time, drow. You made a name for yourself when you splattered that ogre’s hand all over my walls.”

  Cheyenne glanced down at Ember, who pressed her lips together and pointed at the table in the corner. “I’m just gonna go to the table.”

  “Sure.”

  “Would you look at that!” Ogsa leaned over the bar to peer down at Ember. Her green-gray lips parted in a wide grin around her tusks. “I haven’t had a fae in here since the year I opened this place. You don’t want that grog swill I serve the rest of these brain-addled misfits, do ya?”

  Ember chuckled. “Not if it’s as bad as you say it is.”

  The orc woman barked a laugh. Sitting three stools down at the bar, the shriveled old troll and the white-skinned magical with glowing red eyes beside him jumped and shot her disapproving glances. “It’s worse than that, fae. I’ll whip you up a little something better suited for your people. Haven’t pulled this out of the back in decades, but the stuff sure as shit never goes bad. You’ll like it, I promise. You can drink in that chair, can’t you?”

  The fae’s large, violet-glowing eyes narrowed at the tavern owner, and she smiled in an unspoken challenge. “I can do a lot more than drink in this chair.”

  “Ha! I bet you can. Never met a fae who couldn’t do everything they wanted.”

  Ember glanced up at Cheyenne again, raising her eyebrows. “I’ll be at the table.”

  “Sure.”

  “Wait, what are you making her?” Yurik asked, scanning the shelves of magical booze behind Ogsa.

  “That’s for me to know and her to drink, goblin.”

  “How much is it gonna run up my tab?” The agent spread his arms. “I’m not going to go broke just because you made something fancy that costs more than the rest of us are drinkin’.”

  Ogsa scowled at him. “You’re already broke.”

  Yurik flashed the orc woman a mischievous grin and cocked his head. “Now you’re hittin’ below the belt.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Cheyenne cut in. “I’ll cover Ember’s drink.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Ogsa studied her with a crooked smile. “She’s with you, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what does the Aranél want, huh?”

  Cheyenne felt Yurik’s confused gaze settle on her. “I’ll just stick with the grog swill for now.”

  “Huh.” Ogsa chuckled again. The rag she picked up from behind the bar was so dirty, it couldn’t have done more than spread the stickiness around as she wiped the slab of wood in front of her. “Okay. I’ll getcha what you want.”

  “How much do I owe you for the two, then?”

  “You? Nothin’, Aranél. Your drinks are covered.”

  Cheyenne shot Yurik a sidelong glance, the corners of her mouth turning down in surprise. “My drinks are covered.”

  The huge metal ring through the goblin’s septum flapped against his upper lip when he shook his head. “That’s bullshit.”

  “And before you ask, goblin,” Ogsa said, turning halfway toward the shelves of unlabeled, multicolored O’gúleesh liquor bottles lining the wall behind her, “the answer’s no. She can’t just take over your tab, and she won’t be gettin’ half a dozen rounds for free so you and your buddies can go crazy in here at no charge.”

  “Of course not.” Yurik chuckled and spread his arms. “That would be outrageous.”

  The orc woman raised a thick eyebrow at him and grunted.

  “Might as well add a glass of fellwine to my order, then,” Cheyenne added. When Yurik barked a laugh and Ogsa grinned around her tusks again, she added, “It’s my friend’s first time here.”

  “Hey, if you can get that fae to drink fellwine, I’ll wipe this idiot’s tab clean and call it an even trade.” Chuckling, the orc woman turned to make the rest of their drinks.

  “Well, now I’ve really got something to look forward to.” Yurik brushed off the front of his navy and neon-yellow striped sweater with an obnoxiously large collar and looked up at Cheyenne with a grin. “If we have to force that green shit down your friend’s throat, I’d be okay with it.”

  The halfling snorted. “Good luck with that.”

  With a quick glance over his shoulder at their table in the corner, Yurik cleared his throat and slid along the bar until his forearm almost touched Cheyenne’s. She eyed his arm and raised an eyebrow.

  “Right. Sorry.” He sidestepped away from her but leaned toward her again to mutter, “What’s the deal with your friend, anyway?”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  Yurik shrugged. “We came down here to pick your brain about the portals and whatever else got Sir’s panties in a bunch. Didn’t expect you to bring a friend.”

  Cheyenne turned to face him squarely, leaning sideways against the bar. “I didn’t think I had to ask permission.”

  “No, you don’t. I just wanna know how much we can trust her. You know, because of what we do for a living.”

  “Right.” Cheyenne’s gaze flickered toward the table in the corner, where Ember talked animatedly with her hands while Tate chuckled and Bhandi nearly sprayed a mouthful of grog everywhere when she laughed. The halfling shot Yurik a crooked half-smile. “I’ll put it this way. I trust her a lot more than I trust the three of you.”

  He snorted. “That’s not saying much.”

  “Not really, no. But she wasn’t exaggerating when she said she’s heard all the stories.” Cheyenne nodded toward the table. “Ember knows who you guys are and what you do, and it looks like she doesn’t give a shit.”

  “What about keepin’ what she knows to herself?”

  “If she had a problem doing that, I’d be in a lot of trouble.”

  Yurik laughed and tapped his knuckles on the bar. “I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

  “You better. She needs this as much as I did the first time.”

  “Huh. So, if some asshole decides to pick a fight with her this time, should I stay in my seat again and let her handle it?”

  Cheyenne scoffed. “No. You’ll stay in your seat and let me handle it.”

  “Deal.” The goblin drummed his hands on the bar as Ogsa returned with two tankards of grog, a copper cup of fizzing, green-glowing fellwine, and a shimmering silver drink letting off sparkling bursts from the top of what was supposed to look like a fancy crystal chalice.


  “You tell your friend there’s plenty more where that came from if she wants it.” The orc woman slid the drinks across the bar.

  “What is it?”

  “You get a few perks around here, drow.” Ogsa nodded at the weird crystal chalice. “But getting your hands on my secret recipe ain’t one of ‘em.”

  “Ogsa!” A hulking figure covered with a long black cloak and hood smacked a black-gloved hand on the bar. “I’ve been standing here for hours!”

  The orc woman pounded a fist on the bar and pointed at the disgruntled patron. “Unless you and your two heads are payin’ double for every drink, Ogden, keep your forked tongues in your fell-damn mouths.” Then she walked down the bar toward him, ignoring everyone else until the next eager magical stole her attention.

  Yurik nodded at the chalice of sparkling silver alcohol as he grabbed his tankard of grog and the copper cup of fellwine. “I’m not touchin’ that.”

  “Sounds like someone’s scared of a little fae liquor.”

  Turning away from the bar, the goblin glanced from the chalice in Cheyenne’s hand to her face and cocked his head. “Maybe. Good thing you’re not afraid of shit, right?”

  He headed toward their table before she had a chance to reply.

  I’m pretty sure that’s what got me into this FRoE-friend mess in the first place.

  Cheyenne took a tentative sniff of the mystery drink and wrinkled her nose before walking after him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Here you go, Ember.” Yurik slid the fellwine across the table toward her, trying to keep a straight face. Tate snickered. Bhandi lowered the tankard she’d nearly turned upside down over her face, belched, and slammed it on the table before reaching for one of the pitchers. She paused when she saw the copper cup, then chuckled and refilled her drink.

  Ember glanced into the cup in front of her, then sat back in her wheelchair and smirked up at the goblin. “Let me guess. You’re gonna tell me fellwine goes down best when it’s knocked back in one go, right?”

  The amusement faded from Yurik’s face, and he looked between the fae and the copper cup. “Shit.”

  “Did I tell you about that?” Cheyenne took the empty chair beside Ember and set both drinks on the table.

  “Maybe. But I’ve seen a few shots of that stuff start a riot at family reunions.” The fae shook her head and laughed. “I know better.”

  Tate chuckled into his tankard.

  “Come on.” Yurik gestured toward the fellwine. “Just a little sip, then, huh?”

  “Not my thing.”

  He glanced at the bar and leaned over the table, lowering his voice. “If you drink that, Ogsa’s gonna wipe out my tab. I’d owe you one for sure.”

  “Well, then she knows what she’s talking about.” Ember chuckled. “Sorry.”

  “Gonna drink that? Right on.” Bhandi across the table and snatched up the copper cup. She lifted her tankard in the other hand, guzzled half of it, and poured the fellwine in with the rest of her grog before lifting her tankard for a toast. “To the fae. Not as naïve as she looks.”

  “For real? There wasn’t a time limit on getting her to drink the stuff.” Yurik stared at the troll woman, and no one else raised a glass to join in on the toast.

  “Right. Like you had any chance of Ogsa knocking out what you owe her.” Bhandi took a long sip of her fellwine bomb, practically slammed the tankard down on the table, and shook her head with a whoop of surprise. Her scarlet braids flew in every direction. “Holy shit! I just invented the magical Irish Car Bomb.”

  Cheyenne and Ember exchanged amused glances. At least Bhandi never had to deal with real car bombs. I can keep that to myself.

  Tate leaned forward in his chair, chuckling. “There’s no way you’re the first magical to mix suicide in a tankard.”

  “I don’t care what anyone else did with it.” Bhandi took another swig and grimaced, clenching her eyes shut. “But damn. I think I’ve got a new favorite.”

  Yurik snorted. “I’m not paying for your pitchers of grog and more fellwine than anyone should drink in one night.”

  “Well, you’re not paying for anything, are you? Not yet.”

  “You’ve lost your damn mind, haven’t you?”

  Bhandi pointed at the muscular goblin and opened her mouth to reply, then took another gulp of fellwine-grog before sucking in a sharp breath. “You’ve known that since the first time we geared up and shipped out on assignment. Don’t pretend you’re surprised now.”

  “No, I’m just surprised you’re still breathing.”

  “Ha!” The troll woman slammed both fists on the table and leaned forward, leering at her fellow agent. “This troll doesn’t go down that easily. We’ve all been through some shit, man. If that hasn’t killed us by now, a Fellwine Car Bomb sure as shit isn’t gonna do the job.”

  “Yep.” Tate shifted in his chair and lifted his tankard for another toast. “Here’s to going through shit and not dying.”

  “I guess that’s good enough.” Yurik lifted his tankard, waiting for Bhandi to finish glugging down more of her O’gúleesh concoction.

  “Hell, I can drink to that.” Cheyenne lifted her frothing tankard, and the FRoE agents laughed.

  “Yeah, Goth drow’s seen the ugly side of the coin enough times too,” Bhandi shouted, leaning toward the halfling with a wry smile.

  Ember picked up her chalice of fae-inspired whatever and clinked it lightly against the raised tankards over the center of the table. “To not dying.”

  All cups were lowered and tapped on the table before the magicals raised their drinks to their lips and finished the toast. Bhandi downed the rest of hers, belched again, and emptied the pitcher into her tankard before pouring from the other. “And how’d you almost die, fae girl?”

  Tate slapped his palm to his forehead.

  “What? Honest question. She’s the only one I haven’t seen in action.”

  Ember took another sip of her glowing silver drink, smiling at the warm rush of magical alcohol blooming quickly in her cheeks. “I wouldn’t call it being in action, necessarily.” When she glanced at Cheyenne, the half-drow raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “I was shot in the spinal cord.”

  This time, Bhandi did spray her next mouthful of grog and fellwine all over the place, but she had the presence of mind to duck away from the table and aim it at the already sticky floor of the tavern. The patrons sitting closest to their corner table eyed the troll woman in disgust. She ignored them and wiped her dripping chin with the back of a hand as she sat up again and stared at Ember. “Shit.”

  “Something like that, yeah.” The fae smirked over the rim of the chalice as she drank again.

  “Well, you look good for taking a bullet in the back,” Yurik added with a shrug.

  “More like through the back. The asshole shot me here.” Ember gently touched her lower abdomen. “And now I’m in this chair. Temporarily.”

  Tate let out a low whistle. “If you’re still runnin’ around with Cheyenne after something like that, man, I have no doubt you’ll be back on your feet. I heard fae are pretty good at that.”

  “What happened to the other guy?” Yurik asked.

  Ember smiled at Cheyenne, the pink glow around her body pulsing with the magical booze in her system. “Cheyenne paid him a visit.”

  “Fuck.” Bhandi’s eyes widened, and she glanced around the table to meet her fellow operatives’ gazes. “I’m pretty sure we all know what that means.”

  Cheyenne forced herself not to say anything and smiled grimly instead. I didn’t get to tell her what really happened with Durg and now’s not the right time.

  Ember took another sip of her fae drink. “But my story’s not nearly as interesting as hers.”

  Yurik barked a laugh and sat back in his chair. “Oh, yeah. We know all about Cheyenne’s interesting story.”

  “I doubt that.” Ember’s eyes flashed violet.

  “Now, this is getting good.” Bhandi propped her for
earms on the table and stared expectantly at Cheyenne. “I have a feeling that if you don’t tell us what’s up, Goth drow, your friend’s gonna spill the beans for you.”

  Cheyenne laughed it off but eyed Ember with a raised eyebrow. “You feelin’ okay?”

  “I feel fucking great!” The fae grinned at her, then eyed the chalice in her hand. “Shit. That orc got me drunk on four sips.”

  The FRoE agents burst out laughing.

  “That’s her job, man.” Tate’s laughter settled into a chuckle as he scratched the back of his bald head. “Enjoy it.”

  “Yeah, especially ‘cause it’s free,” Yurik added, feigning insult.

  “You know what, greenface? We’re all tired of hearing you bitch about the tab you haven’t even paid yet. Quit changing the subject.” Bhandi pointed at Yurik, who flipped her the middle finger before the troll woman returned her gaze to Cheyenne. “I wanna hear this interesting story Ember’s so sure we don’t know.”

  “You don’t know it.” Ember tossed a hand in the air and laughed. “It happened last night.”

  “So, what the hell is it?” Bhandi’s wide eyes didn’t leave Cheyenne’s face. Tate and Yurik reflected the troll woman’s intense fascination as they leaned forward over their tankards.

  Cheyenne shot Ember a sidelong glance. “Remind me not to take you out for drinks if I wanna bring up any subject on my own.”

  “Oh, come on.” Ember snorted. “You were gonna tell them anyway.”

  “Tell us what?” Yurik sniffed and slid his finger beneath the giant bullring in his septum to scratch his upper lip.

  The halfling smirked and slowly raised her tankard to her lips for her second sip of the night. I guess now’s as good a time as any.

  “Quit fuckin’ around, Goth drow,” Bhandi muttered. “What the hell happened?”

  Cheyenne lowered her tankard and glanced at the ceiling. “I had another one of those almost-dying moments last night.”

  Tate hissed out a laugh. “Is that all?”

  “Not even close.” This is so weird to talk about. L’zar and Corian were right, though. Keep the FRoE on a tight leash as long as I can. “A new portal opened at my mom’s house.”