by Martha Carr
The clerk shrugged and swiped her hair away from her face before pointing at the card reader. “Still having weird dreams about it, though.”
“Oh, yeah? Must be something goin’ ‘round then.” And I caught the worst strain of weird dream there is. Cheyenne pulled out her debit card and shoved it into the card reader.
“It’s crazy. You’d think I’d stop dreaming about that night by now, right? It’s been, like, two weeks.”
“Sometimes things hang on a little longer.” She punched in her pin and waited for the annoying beep. “You’ll get through it.”
“I hope so. My sister’s really into dream interpretation, right?” Katie sniffed and opened a small plastic bag for her customer’s things. “I told her about mine, and she’s totally stumped.”
The halfling chuckled. “Not that hard to figure out why you’re dreaming about a robbery. Seeing as you were literally almost robbed.”
“Not that part.” The clerk playfully rolled her eyes. “I know I’m reliving the whole thing, except in my dreams, there’s this scary-looking chick with white hair and really dark skin. I mean, like, almost purple. And weird…” Katie gestured toward her own ears, “pointy ears.”
“What?” Cheyenne forced out a laugh.
“Right? It’s so freakin’ strange. I don’t even know where my brain came up with that.”
“Not like it could be anything you saw, though, right? I mean, besides the obvious.” The halfling shrugged. “And didn’t you kinda pass out anyway?”
Katie paused for just a second before sliding the bag across the counter. “How did you know I passed out?”
Shit. Cheyenne grabbed the handles of the plastic bag. “I think the asshole who works the nightshift now said something about it. Dude really likes to run his mouth.”
“Oh, man. Yeah, he does.” Katie rolled her eyes and let out a long sigh. “Whatever. I’m just glad I got switched to working mornings. It just feels safer. Wish I could figure out what the dream’s about, though.”
“Tell her to look up ‘Keebler Elf’ or something.” The clerk burst out laughing as Cheyenne turned away from the register.
“Want your receipt?”
“Nope. Thanks.”
“Okay, see ya later.”
The halfling pressed her hip against the door, making the little electric bell chime over the checkout counter. Cheyenne stormed back toward her car and dropped the plastic bag on the seat. Almost screwed myself on that one. I thought she didn’t see me that night.
With a grimace, she shook her head and pulled out the breakfast sandwich. The Focus coughed to life when she started it, then she was heading downtown with the floppy, soggy croissant spilling gas-station egg all over her lap.
Halfway to the address Sir had texted her, she glanced down at the GPS on her phone again and frowned. Borderlands said the other warehouse was in South Richmond, not the West End. Lifting her knee against the bottom of the steering wheel, she reached for the energy drink and opened it with a sharp crack. Then her other hand clamped down on the steering wheel, and she watched the road with her head turned to take long gulps.
I’ll figure it out.
The address took her to a closed-down strip mall, half the windows boarded up and a huge sign at the front of the parking lot that said, Closed for Renovation.
The only other car in the parking lot was the black Jeep, and Rhynehart was leaning against the hood. She parked her car and downed the rest of the energy drink before getting out. “Does Sir ever show up to these things, or does he not wanna break a nail or something?”
The FRoE agent looked her up and down over his folded arms. “He’s got his job, and we’ve got ours. Who pulled you into a food fight?”
Cheyenne glanced down and brushed the clumpy bits of overcooked egg and the soggy croissant crumbs off her black t-shirt and black pants. “Me, I guess.”
“Huh. Maybe leave your eating problems at home.”
She shot him a warning glance. “Not funny.”
Rhynehart chuckled and stepped around the front of the Jeep to jump in. Cheyenne slipped into the passenger seat, and he took off across the parking lot before she could buckle her seatbelt.
“I thought this was a bigger deal than the church.”
“Oh, yeah. A lot bigger.”
She frowned at him. “So why are you the only FRoE agent I’m looking at right now?”
“Aw, come on, rookie. Don’t you believe in me?”
“Not when you sent me into Q’orr’s house because you couldn’t take care of him yourself.”
He glanced at her for a second and shook his head. “Relax. I have backup.”
“I don’t count…woah!” Her hand shot up to grab the oh-shit handle above the door as the Jeep took a sharp right turn around the end of the strip mall. “Hey, man. I chugged a huge energy drink on the way here, and I still managed to drive like a sane person.”
“Boy, somebody’s uptight this morning, huh?” With another chuckle, Rhynehart steered around toward the back and slowed down. “And don’t flatter yourself, rookie. That’s the backup.”
“Woah.”
Five black Humvees were parked in a half-circle behind the strip mall. Almost two dozen FRoE operatives in black fatigues leaned against the vehicles, talking to each other, checking their weapons, slipping on dampening vests. They all looked up and straightened a little when the black Jeep slowed to a stop just in front of them.
The halfling blinked at the operatives and cocked her head. “If anyone had told me about the tailgating party, I would’ve brought something.”
“Yeah, well, it’s over now. Come on.” He jumped out of the Jeep and gave the hood a quick thump as he headed toward the rest of his team.
Cheyenne closed the door and followed him.
“Look who decided to show up?” One of the agents reinserted whatever kind of magazine was necessary for a fell rifle and nodded at her.
“Hey, I got here on time.”
Low laughter rumbled through the team. Jamal stepped around the last vehicle in line, his huge gray mouth open in a smile. “You’re only on time if you’re early.”
The halfling scowled at him. The ogre ignored her warning look completely before nudging his meaty fist into her shoulder as he walked past.
“Yeah, and showin’ up on time means you’re late.” A woman with a black bandana tied around her head jerked the straps of her dampening vest tighter with a little chuckle.
Cheyenne swept her gaze over the agents. “What happens if you’re late, then?”
“You’re dead,” another agent shouted, followed by one more round of laughter.
“We’ve been here for twenty minutes.” The troll woman Cheyenne recognized from her first messed-up visit to the common room in the FRoE compound slipped a fell pistol back into the holster at her hip and spread her arms. “What gives?”
The halfling clenched her jaw and shot Rhynehart a sidelong glance. “He told me to be here at eight.”
“And you got here at seven fifty-five.” Rhynehart smacked her arm with the back of his hand, then stopped when she stepped away and glared at him. “No touching. Right. Sorry. Look, these peons talk a lotta shit, rookie. Don’t worry about it.”
“Says the messenger boy for HQ.” Yurik shut the back door of the closest Humvee and turned toward Rhynehart with a smirk. Then the muscular goblin’s gaze settled on Cheyenne, and he frowned. “You look really familiar.”
The drow halfling shot an irritated look at Rhynehart, who just shrugged. She summoned up the heat of her magic at the base of her spine and slipped into drow form. “Ring any bells?”
“Oh, yeah.” Yurik grinned, the huge metal ring through his nose flashing in the morning sun. “Thought I was seeing things. Hey, Payton!”
“What the hell do you want?” The shorter goblin hefted a massive fell cannon into the back of the closest vehicle before slamming the door. Her one good eye squinted at them beside the eyepatch.
; “Look who it is.”
Payton’s eye widened, then she stormed toward the drow halfling and thrust a stubby turquoise finger into Cheyenne’s face. “I don’t wanna hear a fell-damn thing about the other day, got it?”
The halfling stared at the warning finger but stayed where she was. “If you’re not gonna pick my nose for me, get your hand out of my face.”
Yurik barked a laugh and folded his arms. Payton snarled but lowered her hand, sneering at the drow halfling with crooked teeth. “Don’t expect me to clean up after you on this one.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Payton stalked off with a grunt.
“Just ignore her, rookie.” Rhynehart smirked after the grumpy goblin. “She’s always like that.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“If she’s talking to you at all, it means she likes you.” Rhynehart rubbed his chin, then stuck two fingers in his mouth for a loud whistle, which made Cheyenne lean away from him. “All right. Let’s roll out.”
Muttered replies came from the other agents as they picked up the pace and got into their prospective FRoE vehicles. Yurik jerked his chin up at the drow halfling, then pointed at her as he turned toward the closest Humvee. “Feel free to pull out your tricks, huh? I’ve told these guys what you can do, but the stupid ones still think I’m full of shit.”
She snorted and nodded back. “They’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah.” With another laugh, the tall goblin shook his head and opened the passenger-side door. Payton was already there behind the wheel, starting up the engine just like the others around them. The parking lot behind the strip mall echoed with the growl of revving motors.
Cheyenne leaned toward Rhynehart and muttered, “You guys let her drive with that eyepatch?”
“Well, she hasn’t run anyone over yet. All right, come on, rookie.” Rhynehart jerked his head toward the Jeep and took off.
She followed him and hopped back into the passenger seat, this time buckling up her seatbelt before he had a chance to start driving. The FRoE vehicles pulled slowly one right after the other in a wide circle around the mall’s back parking lot before heading out again. Rhynehart brought the Jeep around as the last vehicle in line. Four minutes later, the caravan turned onto the highway headed northwest and really stepped on the gas.
“So, where are we actually going?”
“’Bout half an hour outside Richmond. Those scumbags dealing Q’orr’s supplies thought they were being smart. One setup inside the city…”
“The church.”
“Yeah.” Rhynehart nodded at the highway and the line of black vehicles stretching out in front of them. “And this second one a little farther away. We think this is where they’re holding most of it.”
“I thought they had more in Richmond.” Cheyenne folded her arms, blinking against the bright sunlight flashing through the window. “Like, another distribution center in South Richmond or something.”
He shot her a quick frown. “Oh, yeah? Where’d you hear that?”
On the Borderlands forum he doesn’t know about. “Just spit-balling.”
“Well, maybe they had something else on the other side of town, but we’re not too worried about any more popup shops like the church. Whoever’s still in charge of this whole screwed-up operation must’ve gotten wind of our raid on the church. These guys have eyes and ears everywhere, apparently.” Rhynehart shrugged and flashed Cheyenne a wide grin. “We have more.”
“So, they moved all that crap out where we’re going after they heard about the church.”
“Bingo. We got a tip last night. Wherever they were holding the black-magic contraband before, they packed up and shipped out. We’re trying to get on it now before they figure out we’re onto them.”
“If you got a tip last night, why wait ‘til this morning?”
“Hey, we know what we’re doing, rookie.” Rhynehart shook his head. “Gave ‘em just enough time to settle in and think they made it outta the line of fire. Even if they somehow figured out we’re comin’ for ‘em now, there’s no way they have enough time to pack everything up again from an even bigger warehouse and find some other location.”
“I keep hearing about how big it is.” The halfling ran her hand through her white hair. “Do you know how much of Q’orr’s stuff they have?”
Rhynehart’s chuckle was low and a little maniacal. “Why do you think we have five vehicles loaded down? Trust me, we’re prepared. Wait ‘til you see what we’ve got in the back of those Humvees.”
Chapter Eighteen
Less than half an hour later, they pulled up in a construction zone outside Richmond a few miles away from the closest country clubs. The FRoE vehicles rumbled down the dirt drive to the site, which was enclosed by a ring of trees without any other side streets cutting through.
Rhynehart parked at the end of the line facing the half-built business complex and reached into the back seat.
“Just a little weird that no one’s working on that place, don’t you think?”
“Nope. Work stalled ‘cause of some funding problem, I guess. And these scumbags figured it was a good place to squat. Here. I know you don’t do the gloves or a helmet, but you should put this on.”
A heavy black dampening vest thumped into her lap, and Cheyenne just stared at it.
“Do it, rookie. It saved you from getting holes burned through your chest instead of just your shoulder—”
“We’re not talking about my shoulder.”
He studied her as if trying to get a good view of her nonexistent wound beneath her t-shirt. He has to know what L’zar did.
“Right. We don’t have to talk about it. Just put it on.”
He got out of the Jeep and left the door open. With a sigh, the halfling got out after him and paused long enough to slip the vest over her head. She thumped it with a fist, the silver chains jingling around her wrist, then walked off toward the quick, urgent activity around all the other vehicles.
The FRoE agents had this down, slipping silently out of the cars and pulling dampening gloves and helmets and fell weapons out of trunks. Their gear let off muffled clicks as pistols were holstered and rifle straps were slung over shoulders. Cheyenne caught three different sizes of fell rifles, all heavy and bulky and deadly-looking.
With a stifled grunt, Jamal hefted a massive fell cannon up onto one shoulder. Yurik lifted a second one and settled it on the ogre’s other shoulder before slapping Jamal’s back with a gloved hand and tugging on his black helmet.
“Why does he get to be Rambo?” the halfling muttered.
“Don’t hold a grudge, rookie. Jamal was doing his job, just like the rest of us.” Rhynehart snorted. “Plus, O’Malley had a little trouble with the last fell cannon. Remember? The one that didn’t go off before you got shot in the hip?”
“Is he gonna be able to use those things, holding ‘em like that?”
“He’s good. That’s all you need to know. Pays to have an ogre on our side. Come on.”
The FRoE team moved quickly across the upturned dirt, heading silently toward the open construction site. Rhynehart jammed his helmet down over his head, and now the drow halfling was the only one among them with her face exposed for anyone to see. Won’t recognize me half the time anyway.
They paused at a thick drape of plastic sheet nailed over the unfinished entrance. The agent at the front pulled it aside and gestured with a gloved hand. The operatives split up into two groups, one heading inside to the left, the other to the right. Cheyenne glanced back at their parked vehicles and all the open doors, then she saw a blue and red zip-up jacket tossed onto a pile of dirt just outside the building’s frame. Weird thing to leave behind.
The split lines of FRoE agents filtered inside, and then Rhynehart was moving again right in front of her, and she followed. When he went right, so did she. Both teams moved swiftly over the unsanded plywood and the two-by-fours laid out to frame the different rooms. Cheyenne glanced across what was supposed t
o be the hallway and saw the other half of the team moving just as quickly, their black shapes flitting between the exposed beams and pieces of coated wiring dangling from the second floor.
A silver keychain flashed in the sunlight, and the halfling paused to squint across the unfinished building. Who brings a backpack to work?
She kept moving behind Rhynehart and the others, looking around to check for movement. Another plastic sheet rippled in the breeze, and that was about it. It’s too quiet.
The frames of what eventually would be offices opened into a much larger room at the center of the building. The FRoE team poured into it and surrounded the open area, rifles and pistols sweeping in every direction as they searched for the magical criminals who should’ve been here.
“What the hell?” One agent jammed his pistol back into its holster and ripped off his helmet. “There’s no one here.”
“Someone’s jerking you around, Rhynehart.”
Pulling off his helmet too, Rhynehart scowled at the open rooms and the tables lining the perimeter. “Hey, our sources are solid, okay? No, they were here. They brought in those tables and all these boxes. Shit.”
He spun around and surveyed the area.
“Looks like they forgot some things.” Yurik set his helmet down on one of the tables and peered into an open box. “All kinds of creepy shit in here.”
“Why would they just leave it all?” another agent asked, holstering her weapon.
“Hell if I know.” Rhynehart scratched the back of his head. “Problem’s not on our end. We timed this right.”
Jamal grunted and lowered into a squat before lowering both heavy fell cannons onto the partially constructed floor.
“Hey.” An agent pointed at the ogre and cocked his head. “Careful with those, Sasquatch.”
“Piss off.”
“At least aim ‘em away from the rest of us, huh?”
Yurik moved down the line of tables, peering into each of the open boxes. He hissed in disgust and stepped back. “There’s way too much shit in here. Pretty easy to just pick up the boxes and carry ‘em out if they smelled us coming.”