Quote The Drow Nevermore (Goth Drow Book 2)

by Martha Carr

Her burning golden eyes shone like beacons in the darkened meadow. “Now it’s my turn.”

  Just as the words boomed across the meadow of the halfling’s dream, a dark figure snaked through the portal. It wore the same black, shimmering cloak as the Cheyenne in her dream, and pitch-black fingers reached up to pull back the hood. There was no face beneath it—only a hollow darkness that hissed out the growing whispers. Then the language shifted, and the faceless figure made of nothing turned to face the real Cheyenne.

  “If he found you, so will I.”

  The figure screamed and lurched toward Cheyenne, dark, glistening claws flashing as they came down across her face.

  * * *

  Cheyenne jolted upright in her bed, gasping for breath. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and stripped off the soaked oversized t-shirt before chucking it to the floor. “This is ridiculous.”

  Her hand slapped down on her cell phone, and she groaned. Why am I up at five-thirty?

  She dropped back down on her back and winced, then rolled over and pressed a gentle hand to the back of her head. She clenched her eyes shut and just lay there, but then her eyes flew open again. Yeah, I’m awake now.

  She pushed herself out of bed, and her gaze fell on the protection pendant beside her phone. Snatching it up, she clasped it around her neck again and looked down at the glimmering black stone. Maybe choking in my sleep is worth it if this thing can keep out the bad dreams.

  The dresser drawers were almost completely empty, so she grabbed a pair of pants from the bottom of her pants drawer that she hadn’t worn since freshman year—black with shiny vertical silver stripes. Her nose wrinkled when she buttoned them, but she shrugged and went to the closet. There weren’t a lot of options there, either. Cheyenne snorted and jerked a black turtleneck off the hanger before tugging it on. She pulled the protective pendant out from beneath the turtleneck and shook her head. Then she went around the bedroom and piled all the dirty clothes she had left on the floor into her arms before taking them to the stacked washer and dryer just beside the bathroom.

  After putting on a little more eyeliner and brushing her teeth—scowling the whole time at the memory of the ogre’s nasty breath blasting into her face—the halfling went back out to her desk, scooted toward it in the chair, and clicked on the monitor.

  Her university email had automatically signed her out, which didn’t matter anyway before she closed the internet window. Then she was staring at the Borderlands forum and the pinned announcement still pulled up on her screen. With a massive sigh, Cheyenne sagged against the edge of her desk. Great. Now I’m making stupid noob mistakes.

  She backed out of the dark web too and left her VPN up while she ran a diagnostic test of her server and her processing system. The results popped up with nothing to show for the oversight, and she powered Glen down before backing away from her desk again. “Got lucky this time.”

  Shaking her head, the halfling stuck both cell phones in the front pocket of her backpack, then grabbed a black corduroy jacket with rows of silver buttons down both sides out of the front closet. After she’d shrugged it on, she slung her backpack over her shoulder, grabbed her keys, and was out of her apartment half an hour before she normally left for school.

  On her drive to the VCU campus, the halfling blinked at the sign for the Starbucks coming up on her right and rolled her eyes. What the hell?

  She pulled off into the parking lot and drove around to the drive-thru window to sit and wait behind a sky-blue Prius, where a woman with short brown hair leaned halfway out the window to make her order. Even with her window rolled up, Cheyenne heard every bit of the woman’s ridiculously long coffee order for a Wednesday morning. This is why I don’t do Starbucks. Should’ve just grabbed something at the gas station.

  Then the woman’s car pulled through for what would be an even longer wait, and Cheyenne rolled her Ford Focus up to the speaker before the window came down.

  “Welcome to Starbucks. Go ahead and order when you’re ready.” The weirdly chipper voice made Cheyenne pull away a little from the window and blink quickly.

  “Yeah, just a… I don’t know. Large coffee.”

  “A venti? Okay? What roast did you want this morning?”

  “Um, caffeinated.”

  A muffled laugh came over the speaker. “Not a regular, are you?”

  “What gave it away?”

  “Okay, I personally am a fan of the Colombia roast. We have cold-pressed, too, if you want.”

  “Yeah, just go with the first thing, please.”

  “Got it. That’ll be two fifty-eight. I’ll see you at the window.”

  “Thanks.” Cheyenne slowly rolled her car all of six feet forward before she stopped again behind the Prius and rubbed her cheeks, blinking heavily. Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, she slowly rolled her head on her sore neck and looked out the passenger-side window. That was when she saw the walking pile of trash. “What…”

  Old, crinkled wrappers and an empty paper soda cup flew off the top of the trash pile, followed by a half-eaten apple and a long pink ribbon. The pile of trash walked past Cheyenne’s car, then slumped to the ground and revealed a two-foot man with bright-red skin who sifted through the armload of garbage with a grin and wide yellow eyes. This one’s neon-orange hair was gelled into seven thick mohawk spikes.

  Cheyenne glanced around the parking lot. Why is no one seeing this guy?

  When she looked back at the little red dude sitting on the grass between the Starbuck’s parking lot and the next lot over, the guy shrugged out of a backpack and propped it up beside him while he rifled through the trash. For the second time in twenty-four hours, Cheyenne found herself looking at a lime-green backpack with a print of the Incredible Hulk smashing cars on the front. Oh, hell, no.

  She leaped out of the car and stalked across the parking lot toward the mohawked magical, her fists clenched at her sides. “Hey.”

  The little dude jerked his head up at her with wide eyes, then glanced around the parking lot and pointed at his chest.

  “Yeah, I’m talking to you. Where’d you get that backpack?”

  “You can see me.”

  “Yeah, and I asked you a question.” When she reached him, she snatched the backpack from beside the guy and forced away the memory of all those other clothes piled in a heap before they were buried in construction rubble.

  “Hey, lady. What I pull out of the trash is none of your business.”

  “This isn’t trash. It’s stolen.”

  “Yeah, by you.” The bright-red man leaned forward to grab at the backpack, but the halfling lifted it out of his reach and glared at him.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Some demolished building, okay? And I’ll have you know, the goblin told me to go ahead and take whatever I wanted. Wouldn’t give up the hat, though. Nice black hat, and thirty-eight’s my lucky number! Turquoise bastard. Now hand it back. I gotta have something to put my best finds in, and you’re making it pretty hard.” The guy snatched up a wrinkled newspaper out of his lap, scanned the front, then tossed it over his shoulder before picking up the next item—a huge metal skull painted black and silver and dangling from the end of a black satin ribbon.

  “No.” Cheyenne yanked it out of his hand too. She couldn’t look at it too long, or she’d lose her shit right here in front of the Starbucks at the start of rush-hour traffic. “What else did you take from that building?”

  “Hey, if you wanted to keep this stuff so badly, you shouldn’t have thrown it out. Jeez.” He rolled his yellow eyes and rummaged through more junk, tossing aside loose papers and a string of fake pearls. “Nobody wants it until they see someone else does.”

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Nothing. Got it? Those were the only two things worth my time in that heap, so give ‘em back.”

  Cheyenne swallowed and shook the backpack at him. “You hear about all the missing kids?”

  The half-pint magical froze and cocked
his head. “Man, how the heck does a human know about any of that stuff?”

  “’Cause I’m not a human.” The halfling lifted a hand and got ready to slip into drow mode for a second to prove her point, but nothing happened. What? She glanced down at her empty hand, still human-looking and even paler against her black-painted nails. “I…” She clenched her fist and tried again, but the flaring heat at the base of her spine didn’t even spark.

  The little orange trash-collector let out a shrieking cackle and gripped himself around the middle, rocking so far back he almost tumbled over into the grass. “Oh, wow! You hit your head one too many times in a mosh pit or what? Not human.” He guffawed, his yellow eyes wide as he leaned back toward her and pointed. “Or you’re a dud. Give me a break.”

  What’s going on with my magic? Staring at her hand, Cheyenne blinked again and took a quick step toward the cackling magical. He stopped instantly and stared at her, licking his lips. “This stuff belongs to those kids. Not for you. Stick to raiding dumps, got it?”

  “Says the not-human human. Can’t tell this imp what to do.” His voice broke a little as she stared him down.

  “I can do a lot more than that. Don’t let me find you with any more stuff from that building.”

  He scoffed and went rifling back through the junk in his lap again. “Whatever.”

  With wide eyes, Cheyenne headed back toward her car, the backpack and satin ribbon of the necklace clenched tightly in her hand. She reached the Focus just as the woman’s Prius pulled away from the window, and the halfling slid behind the wheel. She set the backpack and necklace gently down in the back seat, then glanced in the side mirror and rear-view mirror one more time. The annoying little imp was gone, empty wrappers and the rest of the newspaper fluttering in the breeze on the grass. At least I know what they are now.

  She rolled up to the window and gave the barista a weak smile.

  “Got your coffee right here. You didn’t want cream or sugar?”

  “No. Thanks.” Cheyenne stuck her hand in her jacket pocket and groaned. Other jacket. “Sorry. Hold on.”

  Reaching into the front pocket of her backpack, she felt around for some change just as one of the phones in there started buzzing. Whoever it is can wait. She pulled out a wad of bills, fumbled through it for a five, and handed it to her.

  “One of those mornings, huh?” The barista smiled and took the halfling’s money.

  “Yeah. That’s why I need coffee.”

  The girl handed down a huge paper cup and shot Cheyenne an even bigger smile. “Let me get your change.”

  “Just keep it.” Without waiting for a reply, the halfling shifted into drive and took off out of the parking lot before she got held up by fifty cars on the road instead of by a woman ordering fifty coffee drinks. She sipped the coffee as she headed toward the VCU campus and smacked her lips. Okay, fine. Better than the gas station.

  She set it in the cupholder to strap on her seatbelt again, then glanced back at the stuff she’d seized from the imp, which shouldn’t have been left anywhere. What am I gonna do with those?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Cheyenne made it to the Computer Sciences building for her first Wednesday graduate class at quarter past eight in the morning. Plenty of time for a pit stop.

  The minute she stepped into the one-person bathroom down the hall, she hung her backpack up on the door hook and turned to face the mirror. “What happened?”

  With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and pulled up all the images she could of guns and firing weapons. Nothing.

  “Come on!” She slapped her lower back, waiting for the flare to kick into gear. Then she looked up at her reflection, her nostrils flaring, and thought of Ember falling onto the cement in the skatepark. The halfling gritted her teeth and pulled up everything she felt from the night two weeks ago until her face reddened and she saw a vein popping out on her forehead. Her breath burst out of her, and she slammed her hands on the edge of the sink. There’s no way that troll punched the drow right out of my kidney. Right?

  Breathing heavily, she gave herself one more solid stare in the mirror, then gave up. Cheyenne unzipped the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out both phones. Her personal cell phone didn’t have any missed notifications, and she rolled her eyes before slipping it back into the open pocket and flipping open the burner phone. Just one unread text from Rhynehart’s number.

  Meeting at the diner at 15:00. We need your brain on this.

  The next line had the address for the diner, and Cheyenne sent a text which only said, Fine. Then she shut the phone, dropped it into the pocket, and grabbed her backpack to head to class. I can do three o’clock. I can’t keep missing classes.

  Her Advanced Social Network Analysis and Security professor didn’t seem to notice that Cheyenne had made it to two consecutive classes in a row this week. He went on and on about all the different viruses and malware one could use to hack into someone else’s social media accounts, followed by a list of known scams used over the last decade to lure unsuspecting users into giving up their private information. The halfling’s eyes drooped as she sank lower in her chair by the minute, and no one seemed to notice that, either.

  Her other two classes for the day weren’t any different. The only notable difference was the short, mousy girl even smaller than Cheyenne staring at her necklace during her Theory of Programming Languages class like she’d never seen jewelry before. Cheyenne stared right back at her, waiting for those wide, blinking eyes to look up and see that the halfling noticed. But they didn’t. Everyone’s busy staring, and it’s not even at the Goth thing.

  The last class let out at one-thirty in the afternoon with Professor Dawley finished shouting out some assignment Cheyenne didn’t hear. The rustling and shuffling of ten students gathering their things jolted her out of her half-conscious stupor, and she grimaced at the tightness in her back. Her bruised ribs cried out when she bumped the edge of the long desk before standing up, but she just gritted her teeth against the pain with a long, slow sigh.

  Professor Dawley blinked at her and nodded. “See you on Friday.”

  Cheyenne lifted a hand in a half-assed wave and slung her backpack over her shoulder. “Yep.”

  Great. Now she’ll notice if I don’t show up.

  She moved quickly down the hall, glancing at all the other students filtering through the building and heading to and from their other classes. A chill raced across her back, but it wasn’t the magical kind. That’s a serious problem.

  Mattie Bergmann’s office door was open as usual when Cheyenne showed up just before 2:00 p.m. The halfling walked in, shut the door behind her, and went straight to the desk.

  “You forgot your usual knock,” Mattie said, looking the halfling up and down. “And you look awful.”

  “Rough night. Bad dreams. Weird morning. And then I sat through all my classes, so that didn’t help.” Cheyenne dropped her backpack on the floor and smoothed her hair back from her face with both hands. “I have a problem.”

  Mattie leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “I don’t think I could pin it down if you gave me ten guesses. Unless it’s those pants.”

  “No, I’m serious. Is there…” The halfling closed her eyes. “Is there any way to lose your magic?”

  The professor let out a chuckle and looked confused, her green eyes scanning Cheyenne’s face. “Not unless you were cursed or poisoned. Or almost killed.”

  “What about punched?”

  Mattie barked out a laugh, then clamped a hand over her mouth and took a deep breath. “What did you do to get punched?”

  “I didn’t do anything. At first.” When Mattie just raised an eyebrow, the halfling relented. “I might’ve gotten into a bar fight last night.”

  “Uh-huh. And you think it just took your magic right out of you?”

  “A bar fight in Peridosh.”

  The professor’s eyes widened, and the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile she tried h
ard to contain. “So, you’re branching out and getting to know Richmond’s magical underground, huh?”

  “Something like that. But that’s what I want to know. Some troll got in a good hit somewhere around my kidney, and yeah, it hurts, but that’s also where everything starts when I—”

  “Whoa, whoa. Okay. Slow down for a minute.” Mattie licked her lips. “You should keep an eye on that kidney, first of all. You know, if you start seeing blood in the toilet—”

  “Yeah, I know how that part works.”

  “Okay.” Lifting both hands in surrender, Mattie nodded. “Listen. I’m one-hundred-percent positive a troll did not punch you hard enough to knock the drow out of you. Okay?”

  “Then why can’t I do anything? No magic at all. No changing forms. Not even sparks. It’s kinda freakin’ me out.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” The professor folded her arms again and glanced away from Cheyenne’s face. “Why don’t you tell me about the necklace?”

  “What?” Cheyenne glanced down at the pendant resting against the front of her turtleneck and frowned. “That might be one of the things you don’t wanna hear about.”

  “Cheyenne, I know you didn’t get it from the FRoE. They wouldn’t know Heart of Midnight if it smacked them in the face.”

  The halfling glanced quickly at her professor and her mouth popped open. “You know what this is?”

  “I know what the stone is and a little about how it’s used. My gut’s telling me you don’t. Where’d you get it?”

  “From a friend.” Her smile didn’t feel convincing.

  “I see.” Mattie leaned forward. “Did this friend tell you what it does?”

  “Uh…” Walkin’ a thin line, here. “We had a conversation about my magic getting too bright and loud. This thing is supposed to dampen it.”

  The professor just widened her eyes and pressed her lips together.

  “Oh. Seriously?” Cheyenne jerked the pendant back and forth across the chain, wishing it would loosen up. “He said dampen, not completely turn off.”