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

by Martha Carr

  “Nope.” Ember grabbed the edge of her chair and pulled herself off the couch. The purple light of her magic engulfed her body, and two seconds later, she was sitting comfortably in the wheelchair with a smirk. “I think I’m gettin’ the hang of this.”

  “Guess I’m obsolete, then.”

  “Oh, come on.” Ember clicked her tongue and wheeled between the couch and the coffee table. “I’m sure you’ll find some way to be useful.”

  “Ha-ha.” Cheyenne headed toward the front door. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Then we’ll head to the clinic, and I’ll figure out how to handle things from there.”

  “While I’m at my PT session.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I think we should cover that when we get there. Gotta play it by ear, you know?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Hey, if that Marsil guy running around with George on his nametag has anything to do with—”

  “We’ll figure that out later.” Ember gestured toward the door. “You have a room full of eager young minds to expand.”

  Cheyenne wrinkled her nose. “Ew. I can’t believe I’m grateful for that right now.”

  “Like you said, even the normal things count.”

  Grabbing the doorknob, the halfling paused and looked over her shoulder again. “Don’t open the door for anyone while I’m gone.”

  “Aw, bummer. I was planning on leaving it open all day for anyone who wanted to stop by for a chat.”

  “Not even Matthew, okay? Until we figure out who knows what and where they heard it, we can’t risk it.”

  “I know, Cheyenne.” Ember spread her arms and shook her head. “I was here last night too, remember?”

  The halfling gave her friend a knowing smile. “Yeah.”

  “But I will say, I feel a lot better knowing our apartment isn’t bugged.”

  “As far as we know. If you see any purple dots, cover them and text me.”

  Ember gazed slowly around their apartment and grimaced. “Just when I was starting to feel comfortable in my own living room.”

  “Don’t let it get to you, Em. If I haven’t found any by now, they probably don’t exist.”

  “I’m trying to believe that.” With a disbelieving chuckle, Ember tossed her hand toward the front door. “I know the drill, halfling. Go teach your class.”

  “Yeah. See you in a bit.” As soon as she opened the door, Cheyenne turned the lock on the doorknob, then doubled down with the deadbolt before sticking her keys in her pockets. Walking down the hall, she glanced up at the ceiling and the corners, not bothering to be discreet about it. Should’ve asked Persh’al to throw that spell up out here, too. Whatever. As long as Matthew Thomas can’t see inside our apartment, he can watch the damn hallway as much as he wants.

  When she reached the elevator and punched the call button, she swept her gaze across the hallway, grinned, and stuck up her middle finger. Just in case.

  Cheyenne stopped in front of the small classroom where Maleshi’s Advanced Programming class was held and pulled out her phone. Wow. I don’t think I’ve been ten minutes early for anything.

  The classroom was unlocked, so she stepped inside and figured she’d use the extra time wisely. When her undergrad students filtered into their seats ten minutes later, they found their Goth instructor slouched in her chair with her arms folded, one foot stacked on top of the other on the narrow desk, eyes closed.

  When she figured it was time for class, Cheyenne jerked her feet down off the desk and leaped from the chair, clapping her hands. “Ready to get started?”

  The undergrad students jerked to attention and shifted in their seats. Some of them gasped in surprise, and one kid folded his arms on his desk and buried his face in them.

  “Oh, come on. Don’t look so surprised. You guys came here to pay attention.” She gazed at less than a dozen faces of students not much younger than her and stopped when she got to the girl with one side of her head shaved. The student slouched in her chair just like Cheyenne, her arms folded and an amused smirk barely creasing her lips. Cheyenne pointed at her. “Yeah, like that.”

  Man. I’m even starting to sound like Maleshi.

  “All right, listen up.” The halfling clapped her hands, and two students flinched. “That was better. We’ll keep trying. Since you guys seemed to grasp the general concept of Monday’s class, we’re moving on.”

  A kid with ridiculously thick glasses and a fresh acne breakout raised his hand and didn’t bother waiting to be called on. “But we’ll go back to that when we’re studying for finals, right?”

  Cheyenne squinted at him. No pocket protector today. He doesn’t look nearly as terrified of me, either.

  “Look, you can go back to it if you want. I don’t know what Professor Bergman told you about how this semester was gonna play out, but you can pretty much forget all of it. You’ll do assignments, if I give you any, hopefully you’ll ask me questions if you seriously don’t get something, and you’ll play around with what we’ve covered on your own time. Tests and quizzes and finals are a waste of time, so if something in this class doesn’t interest you, drop it and find something that does. You’ll be writing your own code and building an application or program or whatever for your final. Whatever you want, as long as it’s not something a first-grader could do with their eyes closed. Make it something you actually like, huh? That’s where the cool stuff happens, and there’s nothing worse than being forced to work on something that bores you into another dimension. Well, almost nothing.”

  When she finished her diatribe, she spread her hands and gazed around the room. Most of the students just shot her blank, vapid stares.

  Guess I didn’t have a problem coming up with a half-assed syllabus on the fly. Good to know.

  She closed her hands into fists and nodded. “Any more questions before I start and you shut up and listen?”

  The thick-glasses kid raised his hand and leaned forward. “So, we don’t need to remember everything from the semester for the final?”

  Jeeze, he’s really got a thing for finals.

  A cold, itching tingle raced across the back of her shoulders. Cheyenne straightened and scanned the room again. Pay attention to the warning buzz. I’m learning too.

  “Ms. Summerlin?”

  “Uh-uh.” She shook her head but didn’t look at him. “It’s Cheyenne. I already told you that.”

  “But you didn’t answer my question.”

  The tingling buzz flared up at the top of her spine again and made her want to shiver. Then a low, droning hum caught her attention. That almost sounds like a fly.

  “Um, hello?” The kid with his heart set on finals raised his hand with a weak wave.

  “I didn’t answer your question. I heard you. Pretty sure I answered it in that rare speech you just got, but I guess you need a recap.” Cheyenne frowned and narrowed her eyes, glancing at the closed door at the back of the room, the corners of the back wall, and the empty aisle covered in old, slightly stained university carpet. Where is it?

  The kid cleared his throat, and she shot him a fierce warning look. “No. You don’t need to remember anything for a final unless you think it’ll help you build something you can be proud of. No tests. No multiple-choice or fill in the blanks. Anything else not explicitly included in writing code for something you think is cool isn’t gonna happen. Is that clear enough?”

  “Well, what about a sample scoring card, then? You know, like, a list of what you’ll be looking for at the end of the semester, so we can pass.”

  “Dude, it’s not even the last week of October.” Cheyenne shook her head. The slouching girl in the front row snorted. “I’ll get you what you need to have when you need it, okay? It’s okay to chill out and enjoy the next seven weeks of not having tests.”

  Finals Boy sank in his chair, his gaze racing back and forth across the surface of his desk as his cheeks reddened. “I just want to be prepared.”

  “I get it. Totally admirable. And there’s a
balance between—”

  A dark shape the size of a housefly darted in front of the scowling kid’s face. It caught the light just right and briefly glinted with copper and shiny black. The low hum returned, and Cheyenne watched the thing cut a straight line toward the right-hand wall. It landed there, the humming stopped, and the almost-fly spun smoothly on the wall, then it didn’t move again.

  No housefly moves that straight, just like real beetles don’t stab people in the foot and spew radioactive magic.

  “Between what?” A girl sitting dead center in the rows of desks cocked her head.

  “What?” Cheyenne glanced at the student, but her gaze whipped automatically back to the dark speck on the wall.

  “You said there’s a balance. Between what?”

  “Being prepared and giving yourself room to breathe.” The halfling squinted at the not-fly and forced herself to look at her students instead. “Which is what we’re about to do right now. Take some room to breathe.”

  “Huh?”

  I need to grab that thing before it gets back to whoever’s playing fly on the wall, without blowing this “not an actual instructor” act.

  “You heard me.” Cheyenne forced herself to smile, eliciting weird looks from her very confused students, and nodded. Time to break out improv skills. “This might surprise you, but I’ve learned a lot from the simple art of meditation.”

  The shaved-head girl in the front pushed up in her seat and looked over her shoulder to gauge her classmates’ reactions.

  “This isn’t a meditation class.”

  “Hey, good for you.” Cheyenne cocked her head. “You get a gold star for that one. I’m serious. Meditation, visualizing stuff. Whatever. Here’s what’s up. Everybody close your eyes. Take a deep breath.” The kid in the second-to-last row with spiked hair and the hemp necklace from Monday frowned so deeply, it looked painful. “Yep, you’re included in the general everybody. I promise I won’t disappear or anything. You can do the exercise, or you can leave the room and find a different ten o’clock class three days a week.”

  Rolling his eyes, the student thumped back in his chair and closed his eyes.

  Cheyenne immediately looked at the wall, where the dark speck of not-fly hadn’t moved from its landing. “Okay. Since we’ve had such an illuminating conversation about the end of the semester, you guys are gonna meditate on what you want your final in this class to be.”

  “But you said—”

  “Uh-uh. Eyes closed. We’re in here for an hour and a half. You can spare a few minutes to realign your undergraduate intentions.” I sound like a lunatic. Not the first time.

  With another quick glance around the room to make sure every student had jumped aboard her excuse, Cheyenne stared at the spy machine on the wall. “Make it whatever you like. You picked this class for a reason, I hope, so find the thing you really like about Advanced Programming and dive deep. Imagine yourself sitting down, getting ready to write that code or program or stylesheet.” Someone else snorted. “And you’re totally in the zone.”

  This needs to be fast.

  “Unaware of everything else around you.”

  And timed perfectly.

  Cheyenne slowly raised her hand over the desk, aiming her finger at the back wall and watching the fly in her peripheral vision. “The only thing that matters is the end result, and it’s gonna be exactly what you want.”

  Now.

  The heat of her drow magic burst up her spine as she whipped her hand toward the wall on her right. A quick burst of bright purple sparks shot from her fingertip and hit the spy machine dead-center. The thing let out a surprisingly loud screech as its tiny mechanisms sputtered and sparked. Shit.

  Before the metal bug fell two inches off the wall, Cheyenne hooked her telekinetic magic around the machine’s energy and tugged it toward her. The round glinting body whizzed across the room as the students started in their chairs, distracted by the snap and crunch from the wall.

  The halfling snatched the spy fly from the air and slipped back into human form half a second before her students opened their eyes and searched for the source of the sound.

  “What was that?”

  Cheyenne widened her eyes and gave them a tight-lipped smile as she slipped the fried machine into her front pocket. “What?”

  “Sounded like somebody got shocked.”

  “Woah. Check it out.” One guy sitting by the right-hand wall pointed at the quarter-sized char-mark on the wall, where a thin trail of pale smoke wafted toward the ceiling.

  “Huh.” Cheyenne pressed her palms on the top of the desk and leaned toward the burnt wall. “Probably some kind of electrical short or something.”

  Half the students who had turned to stare at her again looked mortified. The other half wrinkled their noses at the scent of burnt plaster and hot metal and looked dangerously confused.

  “Good thing you’re not teaching an electrical engineering class.” The kid who’d pointed out the smoking dent in the wall slid out of his chair, opened his water bottle, and poured a stream of water onto the wall. It hissed briefly, and the smoke disappeared. “I hope the smoke alarm doesn’t go off.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Cheyenne looked at the ceiling and brushed her fingers toward it like she was swatting away a fly. The feeling of her magic barreling toward the ceiling with a forceful breeze convinced her she was right. “So. Anybody get anything useful out of that brief, interrupted moment of internal focus?”

  The students shifted warily in their seats to face her again, but no one had a thing to share.

  “Then we’ll move on. Feel free to try that again on your own time.”

  Rushing through the random choices for a topic she hadn’t had the time to plan, Cheyenne nodded and stared at the table. That was close. How the hell does Maleshi keep it together with crap like this?

  * * *

  Walking out of that classroom and closing the door behind her at 11:31 a.m. made Cheyenne take a deep, relieved breath. I’m glad that’s out of the way. I get to do it all over again on Friday.

  She gripped the straps of her backpack and headed down the hall toward the main entrance. When her back pocket vibrated, she almost slipped into her drow form to fight the resurrected spy-fly. But she patted her front pocket instead, felt the bump of cold, deactivated metal against her thigh, and pulled out her buzzing phone.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “When can I expect these men to get off my property?”

  Cheyenne slipped out the door and hurried across the lawn toward the closest student parking lot. Yes, hello. I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Yeah, I’m never getting that from her.

  “As soon as we’re sure nothing else is coming out of that thing in the backyard.”

  “Cheyenne, I would very much appreciate an estimated timeline.”

  The halfling sighed after pulling the phone away from her mouth so she didn’t give Bianca Summerlin something else to be upset about. “I know. So would I. When I have one, the first thing I’ll do is give you a call.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “If that’s the best you can do.”

  “If it wasn’t, we’d be having a different conversation.”

  “Yes. I suppose we would.”

  Cheyenne skirted around a group of laughing, shouting students tossing a frisbee and trying to tackle each other at the same time. She turned to glare at a lanky guy who was at least six-foot-four who’d almost knocked her over, but he shrugged and took off across the field. “I’m guessing nothing weird’s happened since I left.”

  “This entire situation is weird.” Bianca’s disdain for the word came through loud and clear. “But if you’re asking about any new developments, no. Nothing beyond my growing irritation and this team’s obnoxious display of the tactical skill known as sitting around and waiting. Specifically on my lawn.”

  Forcing down a laugh, Cheyenne picked up the pace when the parking lot came into view. “They’re there to keep you and
Eleanor safe, Mom. I can’t always be there to engage those things, and I’m not leaving you unprotected until I figure out how to get that whole thing off the property and out of your hair.”

  “Yes.” The clink of ice against glass punctured the silence. “Just so you’re aware, Cheyenne, I’m not unprotected. I went to the shooting range every Saturday at eleven when I lived in the city.”

  Then she hasn’t fired a weapon in twenty-one years. Totally reassuring.

  “I bet you hit ten out of ten in that red circle every time.”

  “Nine out of ten,” Bianca muttered. “But I’m satisfied with ninety-percent accuracy.”

  “Believe me, I wish this was something we could take care of with bullets.”

  A blonde girl in yoga pants, a cream turtleneck sweater, and tan Ugg boots stared at Cheyenne and stepped sideways to put six feet between them as they passed each other. The halfling rolled her eyes and headed for her Porsche. Right. Can’t mention magic or bullets in public.

  “I know.” Bianca took another quick, demure sip of whatever drink she’d made herself, probably a bruncheon cocktail, and hummed into the phone. “I know you’re busy. Call me when you’re able to move this process along.”

  “I will.” The line went dead, and Cheyenne stuffed her phone back into her pocket. I’d like to think she’d stop hanging up on me when all this is over. Pretty sure a magical portal and an impending war across the border aren’t enough to change her habits.

  Chapter Thirty

  When Cheyenne stepped into her apartment at just after 11:50 a.m., the complete silence made her pause. “Em?”

  “Hey.”

  Shutting the door and immediately turning the deadbolt again, the halfling stepped into the living room and peered around the corner into the bathroom beneath the mini-loft. “Everything okay?”

  “It is now.” Wet rubber smacked on marble, and Ember wheeled out of the bathroom with a grimace. “You think we can revoke those invitations Corian mentioned last night? ‘Cause I kinda wanna tell that goblin chick she’s not allowed to come over anymore.”