by Martha Carr
Time sped up again, the tavern filled with noise, clicks, crunches, and thumps, and for all her drow strength and speed and the ogre’s gargantuan mass, his feet only lifted about an inch as his head whipped back. Shattered teeth sprayed from between his lips, and this time when he crashed against the wall, he didn’t move.
“Okay, who’s next, huh?” The drow halfling whirled to face the skaxen and the troll.
They’d untangled themselves and gotten back to their feet, but they swayed a little, hunched over and panting.
“Aw, come on.” Cheyenne shrugged. “You wanted a party, right? Let’s party.”
When she stormed toward them, the troll hesitated before drawing up a hissing, flashing rod of yellow and green light between his hands. He yanked it tight with a snap, then lashed out at her with the crackling whip of his spell.
“Hey, that’s cute.”
“You’re done, drow.” The way the troll spat the word sounded a lot more hateful than whatever they kept calling her. “If we don’t take you in, someone else will.”
“See, I think you got that backward.” She opened her hand, just to see what the last two thugs would do.
They both flinched, but the troll recovered quickly and drew his arm back to snap the yellow-green whip sparking in his hand. Before he could bring it down, the drow halfling shot her whipping black tendrils toward him. They coiled around the whip and jerked his spell toward his throat. The yellow magic fizzled, and her other hand sent more tendrils coiling around the troll’s arms, torso, and neck. She yanked him toward her, released her whips with one hand, and landed a mean right hook to his jaw.
The troll’s bright-red eyes rolled back in his head. Behind him, the skaxen snarled and leaped, not toward Cheyenne but past her, jumping across the tables lining the tavern and sending tankards and metal plates flying onto the floor behind him.
The halfling released the troll, who dropped like a purple bowling ball and turned after the skaxen. All she saw was a bunch of magical patrons at the Empty Barrel, staring at her with wide eyes and gaping mouths.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Anyone know that guy or where he’s headed?” Cheyenne pointed toward the tavern’s door as it swung shut again behind the skaxen’s desperate escape. “No? Okay.”
With a shrug, she turned back around and eyed the bloody, nearly toothless ogre against the wall, the troll in a heap at her feet, and the bloody orc lying face-down in a pool of his own blood and spit. No one moved.
The drow halfling sighed and moved quickly toward the off-duty FRoE agents. All three of them stared at her with wide eyes. Bhandi cradled her tankard against her chest. Tate’s scarlet eyebrows went up even farther, and Yurik’s open mouth let out a dry click when he swallowed.
Cheyenne reached across the table and pointed at the copper mug in Tate’s hand. He gave it up immediately. The halfling took one glance inside, blinked, then knocked back half a cup of fellwine and slammed the cup back onto the table with a clang. She sucked a sharp breath through her teeth. “Pretty sure I know why they made this stuff now.”
Bhandi pointed to her head and stared at Cheyenne’s. “You got a little…”
“What?” The halfling picked at her hair, finding a spray of someone’s blood on her hand before a yellow fingernail and teeth tumbled onto the table. “Gross.”
“That was…” Yurik blinked. “I’m not sure what I just watched.”
She pointed at him. “Yeah, well next time, when I say I got it, that means don’t—”
A loud clang rose behind her. Cheyenne turned slowly around just as an old, skinny goblin with dull-green hair sprouting from his ears slammed his tankard on the table again. And again. The magicals around him picked up the banging, crashing tankards, cups, pitchers, and fists on the metal tables filling the tavern. They all banged together, faster and faster until everyone but Cheyenne and her FRoE friends were doing it. The halfling’s head vibrated with the noise. What the hell does that mean?
“Come on.” Tate stepped out from behind the table and clapped Yurik on the shoulder. “I think it’s time to go.”
“It’s…what?” Yurik blinked, then shook himself out of it and moved again. “Yep.”
Bhandi downed the last of her grog before dropping the tankard onto the table. She brushed pieces of ogre fist off the front of her shirt with a grimace of disgust, then joined the others on their way out.
Cheyenne stepped over the troll’s body and saw a glint of silver beneath his shirt. She dropped into a crouch and yanked on the chain to pull the whole thing out. Of course, it’s another bull’s head.
With a snort, she tossed the pendant back down and stood. The patrons stared at her, drumming metal wildly on metal. As the FRoE agents headed toward the door, she moved closer to the bar and nodded at Ogsa. “Want me to send someone in for cleanup, or…”
The orc woman stared at Cheyenne, thumping an empty tankard on the bar over and over with the rest of them. Her upper lip lifted in a twitching smile, and she leaned toward the drow halfling.
“Uh, did you hear me? Sorry about the mess.”
The bartender grunted and smiled even wider, forcing the halfling with the zeroing-in stare to keep moving.
“Okay.”
“Hey!” Tate waved her toward the front door, glancing at all the other magicals, who were still pounding on metal tables with fists and heavy metal tankards. “Time to move.”
“Yep.” Cheyenne turned away from the bar and headed toward the door. “Creepy.”
Every single patron was staring at her, following her with their gazes. She nodded, but the feeling of so many eyes on her made her shiver, and she picked up the pace.
Bhandi and Yurik were already out the door, and Tate settled a hand on the halfling’s back to usher her out onto the main avenue before the door swung shut behind them. The rhythmic, metallic clanging kept up briefly, then someone inside let out an earsplitting roar, and the rest of the Empty Barrel erupted with the same.
“Jesus.” Tate flinched and eyed the tavern over his shoulder. “You’d think they were the ones who just took those guys out.”
“Sounds like a goddamn battle cry to me,” Yurik added, rubbing his shaved head beside the yellow braid.
“I’ve seen it before,” Cheyenne muttered, shooting the tavern one more glance as the off-duty agents led her back toward the far side of Peridosh’s wide avenue.
“Seriously?” Bhandi swiped at a stain on her gray jacket and let out a little grunt of irritation. “I’ve never seen it, and I know I’ve been around a lot longer than you.”
“What happened the last time?” Tate asked.
“I, uh, took out a lunatic goblin at Rez 38. Everyone did the same thing there, too.”
Yurik puffed out a sigh. “Did they seem as happy about it as that bunch of drunks smashing in those tables?”
“Yeah, actually.” The halfling rolled her shoulders back and tilted her head from side to side. “This was a little weirder, though.”
“Weird isn’t the half of it, Cheyenne.” Tate shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and swerved around two goblin women carrying woven baskets of what looked like animal skins. When they caught sight of the drow halfling, they gave her matching stares of curiosity and approval.
Cheyenne stared right back until she passed them.
“What you did back there was…insane, honestly.” The troll looked at her over his shoulder. “That wasn’t even you going full-out, was it?”
“Not really.” When the halfling looked across the avenue, she found an orc couple, his arm around her shoulders, staring at her with the same intensity. She licked her lips and focused her attention on Tate’s back. “We’re getting outta here, right?”
“Hell yeah, we are.” Bhandi let out a sharp laugh, but she’d sobered up enough so it just sounded flat. “Christ, I thought I was the crazy one.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“Nah. Sure you’re not.” Bhandi just waved her
off. “I mean the whole damn situation. Where’d you learn that little arm-exploding trick?”
Cheyenne shrugged. “It just came to me.” When I tried to blow up my legacy.
“I’ll tell you what, though, Cheyenne.” Yurik let out a surprised laugh and sniffed, rubbing his hand under the huge ring dangling from his nose. “Now we know the best way to take out an ogre. I mean, you saw the size of that fucker, right?”
The other operatives burst into tense chuckles.
“Would’ve loved to have you with us in the field two months ago. Took out a whole family of ogres up in Jersey trying to reenact The Godfather in real life.” Tate nudged her in the shoulder again, and the halfling stepped sideways, not bothering to resist the pressure this time. “Took us damn near half an hour and four fell cannons to whip all the fight out of them.”
“Hey, man. She doesn’t like to be touched.” Bhandi nodded at Cheyenne and raised her eyebrows. “Or hugged.”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on huggin’ her before anyway.” The tattooed goblin laughed. “Now I’m definitely not.”
They reached the end of the underground magical bazaar and stopped in front of the elevator doors that didn’t have a call button down here. The doors opened, and the group filtered inside before they were closed back in and started moving up.
“Is this the only way down?” Cheyenne frowned at the metal walls again and shoved her hands into the pockets of her black canvas jacket.
“No, I think there are two other entrances. Maybe three.”
Bhandi snorted. “Ma’kdo told me last week he found one through the sewers.”
“What the hell was he doing in the sewers?”
“Beats me.”
Yurik nodded. “Yeah, there are probably more ways into Peridosh than that. We only just saw…what? Not even a quarter of it?”
“If that.” Tate shrugged.
“Crazy place to keep underground,” Cheyenne muttered.
“Where else were they supposed to put it, under the train tracks at Triple Crossing?” With a chuckle, Yurik just shook his head. “First step, Cheyenne: don’t let them see you.”
“Yeah, that was always my—” She stopped and cleared her throat. Not a good time to bring up my mom. “That’s been my first rule for a long time too.”
“And it’s a good one to have. Especially for a halfling, right?”
“Right.” Cheyenne leaned against the wall of the elevator as it made the slow, wobbly climb to the Fro-Yo shop. And no one chasing me seems to know. The elevator fell silent. Bhandi swayed on her feet a little and quickly shook her head. “Hey, you guys ever seen a silver pendant shaped like a bull’s head?”
Tate snorted. “No, but I bet someone’s made that shape before.”
“No, I mean other magicals wearing them. Like the guys we’ve been dragging in.”
“Not that I remember.” Yurik folded his arms and nodded at her. “Does the bull’s head mean something?”
“Not sure. I’ve just seen it around.” The halfling shrugged. “Thought you might have an idea about what it is.”
“We couldn’t tell you the first thing about fashion from the other side, Cheyenne.” Bhandi pointed at Yurik and narrowed her eyes. “Except that their tastes are worse than his.”
Tate snorted.
“Uh-huh. You think you’re pushing my buttons, don’t you?” Yurik smoothed down the front of his loud zig-zagging sweater, then slapped his chest with both hands. “But under this muscular physique is a—”
“Flabby Blueface?”
“Bunch of tasteless gristle?”
The goblin looked at his troll friends and cocked his head. “I was gonna say ‘goblin with a thick skin,’ but don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.”
The trolls chuckled and swayed with the elevator’s bumpy ride to the surface.
Cheyenne couldn’t help a little smile, and when Yurik saw it, he nodded at her again. “Cheyenne knows what I’m talkin’ about.”
“Uh, I can’t speak for a thick-skinned goblin.”
“Or a thick-skulled idiot,” Bhandi muttered.
“But you can speak to having thick skin, right?” Yurik gestured toward her, then shoved his hand into the front pocket of his yellow pants. “Forget the Goth part. You’re a halfling. When people see what you are, I bet they’ve got more to say about it than Bhandi’s dumbass imagination can say about my clothes.”
The halfling gave him a little frown. “More people comment on the Goth thing, actually.”
The elevator jerked to a stop, sending the half-drunk magicals and the wasted Bhandi staggering against the walls. The troll woman tried to cram her hand into her pocket, grunting with the effort.
“You need some help with that?” Tate asked, chuckling and slipping his black illusion ring onto his pinkie.
“Oh, no. Those mitts aren’t goin’ anywhere near my…” Bhandi grunted again and finally whipped out her ring. “Shit.”
The black band flew from her fingers, and Cheyenne leaned forward to snatch it out of the air. Then she offered it to the troll with a knowing smile. “Probably wanna hold onto this.”
Bhandi’s scarlet eyes moved lazily across the halfling’s face, then she snatched the ring and jammed it onto her finger. “Thanks. Showoff.”
The elevator doors screeched open, revealing the back of the fake Employees Only entrance. Yurik laughed. “Someone sounds a little jealous.”
“What? I don’t do jealous.” Bhandi grabbed the handle and jerked inward on the door until Tate pushed it out. The troll woman stumbled forward, now looking like a human with auburn hair and blue eyes. “Stupid. I swear this thing opened the other way.”
“From the outside, yeah.” Chuckling, Yurik and Tate stepped out of the elevator, and Cheyenne followed.
The guy running the shop that fronted one of Peridosh’s entrances stared at the group as they passed him toward the front door. “What the hell are you jokers doing back up here?”
Bhandi snorted and spread her arms. “What? You disappointed to see we made it out alive? Again?”
Tony’s mouth twisted in an amused grin. “Well, there’s that too. But you people are usually down there a lot longer than two hours.”
“What time is it?” Yurik asked.
He turned and eyed the clock on the wall behind his desk. “Just after eight.”
“Jesus.” Yurik shook his head and walked toward the front of the shop.
Tate lifted a fist at Tony, and Bhandi clapped her hands together. “Fast and hard, Tony. That’s how we roll.”
“Yeah, don’t forget shitfaced.” The man chuckled until he saw Cheyenne, and the laughter cut off as his eyes widened.
Oh, right. She slipped out of her drow form, returning to the black-haired, pale-skinned Goth chick, and shot the man a smirk. “Have a nice night.”
“Uh-huh.” Tony rubbed his chin and watched the group pass through his store.
Yurik shoved the door open and laughed. “See that, Bhandi? I’m pretty sure most places make you push to get out.”
“Don’t make me push you.”
“So, Cheyenne.” Tate reached out to nudge her again, then thought better of it and shot her a thumbs-up. “Minus the whole barfight you wouldn’t let the rest of us enjoy, what do you think of Peridosh?”
“Uh…” A laugh escaped her. “I think I could handle it about as often as you guys get to leave the compound.”
“Ha.” Yurik turned back toward her as they crossed the street toward the parking lot. “’Cause it got crazy in there, huh? Yeah, this wasn’t a normal night. It’s usually more chill.”
“Yeah, and Bhandi’s usually the one making trouble when we go out,” Tate added.
“Hey, I didn’t start a single one of those fights.” Bhandi rolled her shoulders back and stumbled before stepping up onto the sidewalk. “But I sure as hell finish ‘em.”
“Not like Cheyenne, you don’t.” Tate leaned toward the halfling and muttered, “Most
of her fights end with the other guy giving up or Bhandi passed out on the floor.”
“Gotta get the job done somehow.”
Cheyenne barked a laugh. “Please don’t tell me ‘Bare-ass Bhandi’ is your fighting name.”
Yurik and Tate exploded with laughter, turning around to give the halfling approving looks before pointing at Bhandi and falling all over each other. Bhandi shot the half-drow a withering glare that cut off when she stumbled over her own feet and almost ate asphalt. Cheyenne snatched the troll woman’s arm and jerked her upright, grinning.
“Cheyenne, Cheyenne,” Bhandi sighed through loose lips and shook her head. “You make it really hard not to like you.”
“I’ll take it.”
They got back to the Range Rover, and Bhandi jammed her hand into her back pocket to fish around for the key fob. She leaned on the driver’s side door and bent her knees, leaning back way too far to get her hand in.
Tate snorted. “You look like Ma’kdo trying to take a piss.”
“Yeah? Piss on this.” Bhandi yanked the fob out with a grin, and the thing flew out of her hand onto the asphalt. The troll looked down at it, blinked, then turned toward Cheyenne. “Couldn’t you catch that one too?”
“Hey, I’m not your maid.”
The guys cracked up again, and Yurik stooped to pick up the fob before pointing at Cheyenne. “Cheyenne’s nobody’s maid. Damn straight. Hell, she called us to come clean up a mess she made the other day. Nothing like what Ogsa’s gonna have to scrub out of the floor after tonight, but if anyone’s a maid, it’s me and Payton.”
His chuckle died, then he blinked at the key fob in his hand and rolled his eyes. “Shit.”
“There it is.” Tate thumped the goblin with brown human hair on the back. “You good to drive, Grandma?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“I call shotgun,” Bhandi announced, stumbling around the front of the car.
Tate went around the back to climb in behind the troll woman, and Yurik glanced at Cheyenne with a little frown. “Like I said, you can pretend to forget about what happens. That’s what blowin’ off steam’s for, right?”