Quote The Drow Nevermore (Goth Drow Book 2)

by Martha Carr

  “Looks like you found your answer.”

  “Okay.” The halfling unclasped the chain from around her neck and coiled the whole thing into one hand, then slipped into drow form the instant she thought about it. She nodded at her purple-gray hand, then slipped back into her eerily pale skin again. Corian better have a good reason for not explaining this. With a sigh, she wrapped the necklace around the collar of her turtleneck and fastened it again. “So, I officially feel like an idiot now.”

  “Oh, that’s not the most embarrassing thing to happen in this office, kid. Trust me.” Mattie chuckled and gazed at the pendant one more time. “Plus, it’s almost impossible to know the exact effects of any charm if you’re not the one who casts it. Especially using a stone like that. Boy, I haven’t seen one of those in a long time. Your new friend doesn’t happen to be a drow, does he?”

  “No.” Cheyenne picked up her backpack again and stared at her professor’s desk as she slung it over her shoulder. “Just friends with one, apparently.”

  “Ah. That’s where he got it, I’m sure.” The professor squinted at the necklace. “It’s an interesting thing to carry across the Border.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s an interesting guy.” And infuriating. “Oh, hey. What time is it?”

  Mattie glanced up at her computer. “Two-fifteen. Did you get the chance to look at any of those spells yet?”

  “Kind of.” Cheyenne shrugged. “I’ll keep you updated. I gotta get going, but thanks for…talking me down.”

  “No problem.” The professor winked at her. “Try not to get in any more fights, huh? And go see a doctor if something doesn’t feel right.”

  “I’m fine. Really.” Opening the door, the halfling gave her professor a final nod before slipping out into the hall. So many things don’t feel right. A doctor won’t fix any of them.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Cheyenne pulled into the parking lot of the retro red diner just off the highway and glanced at the clock on her dashboard. Ten minutes early. Guess this counts as being on time.

  There were only a few cars in the parking lot, so she had no problem picking out Rhynehart’s black Jeep or Sir’s stupid orange Kia Rio. Slipping her hands into the shallow pockets of her jacket, the halfling stalked across the parking lot toward the diner’s front door.

  The little bell jingled as she stepped inside, filling her nose with the scent of fried onions and grease and pancakes. Shaking her head, she glanced over the rows of red vinyl booths and saw Rhynehart immediately. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows but didn’t say a word.

  Sir sat across from his second in command, and next to Rhynehart was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with tan skin and a short blonde bob. Cheyenne gritted her teeth as she approached the table.

  When she stopped at the edge, all three FRoE members looked up at her, and none of them smiled. Sir blinked, his mustache twitching as he eyed the drow halfling. “Well, look who’s right on time? Don’t tell me you dressed up just for this meeting.”

  “Had a problem with the laundry,” Cheyenne muttered, watching Sir’s gaze settle on the Heart of Midnight pendant resting below her turtleneck collar.

  “I don’t care if you wear the same damn thing every time I see you. Hell, maybe you do. I can’t tell.” Sir slid over to sit across from the massive woman, who stared impassively at Cheyenne with her hands in her lap. “Cop a squat, halfling.”

  Cheyenne tried to hide her grimace as she lowered herself into the booth, and she sat as close to the edge as possible.

  Sir watched her lean away from him, then snorted and shook his head. “Interesting stuff you sent in email last night. Care to tell us where you found it?”

  She stared at Rhynehart, who just leaned back and folded his arms. At least he didn’t keep the list a secret. “Did I get invited to an interrogation?”

  Sir reached out for his diner mug of black coffee and took a long, slurping sip. “Don’t flatter yourself, kid. We already know everything we want or need to know about you. We’re sitting here in this glorious craphole with the best damn coffee I’ve ever tossed down to talk about those kids, not you.”

  “Good. Someone finally started listening to me.”

  “So, where’d you find the list?”

  Cheyenne looked at the huge blonde woman beside Rhynehart, then turned just enough to shoot Sir a sidelong glance. “That’s not something I can tell you.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because it’s not just something I found, and the list doesn’t belong to me. It’s borrowed.”

  Sniffing quickly, Sir shrugged and looked across the table. “Doesn’t matter. Fact is, we’re looking at those names and have confirmation now that every single one of them belongs to a kid who hasn’t been seen since before oh-eight-hundred hours yesterday. Sheila here double-checked each of them personally.”

  The blonde woman dipped her head at Cheyenne, then lifted her forearms onto the diner table. Rhynehart glanced down at Sheila’s elbow poking into his personal space but said nothing. There was a thick black ring around the middle finger of Sheila’s right hand.

  Another FRoE magical. Must be huge without the ring, too.

  Silence fell over the table, and when no one else spoke up, Cheyenne shrugged. “You could’ve just texted me.”

  “Oh, sure.” Sir slid his coffee mug closer. “But I hate texting. And phones, really. Kinda hard to have the conversation we’re having now when we’re all plugged into a screen like a bunch of moody teenagers without any friends.”

  “Yeah, I’d really hate to miss this.” The halfling folded her hands on the table and stared at Sir with wide eyes.

  He ignored her sarcasm and cocked his head at his mug. “Here’s the thing. We have the kids’ names and ages. We know they’re missing. We’ve got eyes on the magical families who reported some tween snatched up at some point yesterday, and…well, I’m just gonna put it bluntly.”

  Cheyenne blinked. This’ll be interesting.

  “We have no leads and no theories and no goddamn clue how to find those sons of bitches playing Pied Piper with registered Border immigrants.” As if he couldn’t believe he’d just said it out loud, the man lifted his mug quickly to his lips and took a long, steaming drink. When he almost slammed the mug back down again, thick drops of coffee fell from his mustache and disappeared into his lap.

  “Huh.” The halfling stared at the last tiny glittering drop above his lip. “That’s why you ‘wanted my brain.’”

  “Well, don’t get all cocky about it,” Sir muttered quickly. “Just give us some damn ideas.”

  She let that sink in for a minute. They think I know something. Cheyenne glanced at Rhynehart again, who’d opted for meeting her gaze. Sir was now diligently staring at the table. Sheila raised an eyebrow. “I want that visit. Now.”

  Rhynehart sucked his teeth and rubbed the back of his neck. Sir choked on his next sip of coffee, sending spray up out of the mug and into his face. He wiped it away quickly with a hand. “What?”

  “And then I’ll help you find the kidnappers and take the whole thing down.” The halfling widened her eyes at Sir and waited for him to meet her gaze. So he knows I’m serious. Tables have turned, asshole.

  “Hey, don’t get me wrong. You’ve got serious balls making a request like that—”

  “It’s not a request. Take me to see L’zar, then I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  Sir’s beady eyes narrowed. “You know I’m the one giving orders around here. Rhynehart, she knows that, right? ‘Cause I’m pretty goddamn sure I made it perfectly clear from the beginning.”

  “Sure.” The halfling nodded slowly. “When you have all the cards in your hand. But you brought me here because you don’t have a choice. And we all know that.”

  The man’s nostrils flared, then he wiped the last glistening bit of coffee from his mouth.

  “Look, I’m pretty sure every single agent at the construction site would’ve come back in body bags
instead of just the three lying in the medical ward on base.” The silver chains around her wrists clinked when Cheyenne folded her arms. “I’m not handing out any more favors, but after yesterday, I’d say you owe me one.”

  All three FRoE members at the table stared at the drow halfling. Then Sheila opened her mouth and let out a low, growling chuckle. “I like her.”

  “Yeah, well, you can keep your opinion to yourself, you big pile of—” Sir caught Sheila’s warning glare and her raised eyebrow and stopped. “I’m not inclined to agree with it.”

  Cheyenne shrugged. “Clock’s ticking, Sir. I wanna find those kids as much as you do, but I can’t do it if I don’t cash in those extra tickets you were talking about.”

  Sir growled into his coffee cup but lowered it again without drinking this time. “You want to visit the splinter in my asscheek to ask him about those kids?”

  “And some other things, but yeah.”

  “Jesus, Bugs Bunny, and Marilyn Monroe.”

  While Sir buried his face in his hand, Cheyenne looked at Rhynehart again. The man shrugged and shook his head.

  “If you give a drow a plate, she’s gonna want the whole enchilada. All right. Guess you’re callin’ the shots on this one, halfling.”

  Cheyenne’s mouth twitched into a victorious smirk. “Just so we’re clear, that’s a yes, right?”

  “It’s whatever you want it to be. Don’t make me spell it out for you. I know you can read.” Sir pushed his mug away from him, sloshing a little more over the sides. “And now you ruined my damn coffee.”

  “I’m sure they’ll make you a fresh pot later.” Slapping her hands on the table, the halfling slid over the one inch left at the end of the booth and stood. “Let’s go.”

  Sir pointed at Rhynehart and grunted. “She’s riding with you. I’m already seeing damn drow closing in on me from every side.”

  “Sure.” Rhynehart nodded at Sheila. “Get ready for whatever we send your way, huh?”

  The huge, human-looking magical folded her arms. “I’m always ready.”

  “Hey, Sheila.” Cheyenne nodded at the woman and let her smile widen. “Nice mask.”

  Sheila snorted. Rhynehart and Sir gave each other confused looks.

  Then the halfling turned and headed back toward the diner’s entrance. Once the FRoE agents could no longer see her, she let herself break into a wide grin. Pretty sure we’re playing my game now.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Cheyenne closed the passenger door of Rhynehart’s black Jeep, buckled her seatbelt, and waited for him to say something. With a sigh, the man started the car, then reached across Cheyenne’s lap and opened the glove box. A black satin sleeping mask dropped into her lap, then the glovebox thumped shut again.

  The halfling stared at her lap. “What, no black bag over my face this time?”

  “Just put it on. And if I see you peeking, I have more of those nifty little syringes stored in here.” Rhynehart strapped himself in and pulled out of the diner’s parking lot behind Sir’s Kia.

  “I’m afraid to ask why you have this in your car.” She picked up the mask and stretched the elastic band.

  “And I might be afraid to ask what you got up to with three of my agents last night.”

  “Fair enough.” Slipping the elastic band around her head, Cheyenne settled the mask over her eyes and thumped her head back against the headrest. They drove in silence until she just had to ask. “What did they tell you?”

  “Enough to know I don’t wanna know. Everybody’s gotta blow off steam sometimes, rookie. As long as you don’t let it affect the way you do your job, I don’t care.”

  She snorted. “How many times do I have to say this isn’t my job?”

  “If you have a better word for it, I’m all ears.”

  The halfling shrugged, all the light blocked out by the sleeping mask. “It’s more of a hobby.”

  Rhynehart snorted. “Yeah, a hobby none of us can afford for you to drop. Including you.”

  They drove for another twenty-five minutes at least, and Cheyenne found herself jolted out of a light doze when the black Jeep finally stopped and the engine cut off.

  “We’re here.”

  She ripped the sleeping mask off her face and stared at it. These things actually work. Tossing it on the dash, she unbuckled her seatbelt and slipped out of the car after Rhynehart, who’d already started walking toward the cement entrance and the rolling chain-link gates in front of Chateau D’rahl. They were still open.

  Sir stormed toward the front door with a cell phone pressed against his ear. “Don’t talk to me about paperwork. I don’t care how many pencils you need to push, Johnson. Get it done. You have about twenty minutes.”

  He jerked the phone away from his ear and jammed it into the back pocket of his jeans. The armed guards standing in front of the prison entrance nodded at the man as he stalked toward them without slowing. Cheyenne hurried to catch up to Rhynehart, who didn’t look at her as they passed the guards and kept moving. No one said a word.

  Sir grunted at the glass front door, peered inside, then yanked open the door. “Can’t handle a goddamn change in schedule. We’re paying out the ass to keep this place running.”

  Rhynehart caught the door before it closed and held it for the halfling. A guard hurried toward them from the other side of the front room and stopped short when he saw Sir’s scowl. “A little late for that now, don’t you think?” Sir grumbled. “Back the hell up, man. I’m not in the mood.”

  The guard quickly stepped back, then Cheyenne was following the FRoE’s head honcho and his right-hand man toward the huge, broad metal detector. The other guards stationed there stared at the halfling, and one of them grabbed the radio at his shoulder to mutter, “They just stepped inside.”

  Pockets were emptied into plastic trays and jackets shrugged off. Sir and Rhynehart walked through the metal detector first, and the alarm and blinking lights again went off when Cheyenne went next. The same guard who’d asked her about concealed weapons the last time spent a lot longer than necessary staring at the halfling’s facial piercings, but he didn’t try to take out the wand this time to run it over her.

  “Finally.” Sir nodded at the guard. “Somebody’s using their goddamn head to get us through here quickly. Now, who the hell’s taking us down?”

  “They’re not quite ready, Sir.”

  “No shit. I’m not standing here all day while my hair falls out. Where’s Donahue?”

  The guard glanced at Cheyenne and Rhynehart, but only for a second. “Beta block, Sir.”

  “Buzz me in. And radio it in when these two get back from the Dungeon.”

  “Sir.” The guard nodded and said into his radio, “Open Door 2.”

  The door just behind him on the left let out a loud warning buzz, and Sir yanked it open before disappearing inside without another word.

  Cheyenne glanced at Rhynehart, who frowned at Door 2 as it closed again with a loud click. Then he turned away from her to wait for their escort. “You been down there before?” the halfling asked.

  He shot her a sidelong glance, his jaw working as he clenched his teeth. “You have one over me, rookie. Don’t push it.”

  She fought hard to keep from smiling. Yeah, he’s in for a nice surprise.

  The next ten minutes felt like an hour as they waited on the other side of the metal detector. The guards in the room just stared at them—mostly Cheyenne—without loosening up enough to talk amongst themselves. Then another breathless guard rounded the corner, his eyes wide and his hand pressed against his belt, where the large ring of keys jangled with every step. “This way.”

  Cheyenne and Rhynehart followed closely behind, then they stepped into the single elevator at the end of the hall and headed down however far the thing took them into the bowels of Chateau D’rahl. Their escort bounced on his heels, staring up at the top of the elevator doors like there was a floor-counter up there.

  “You okay?” the halfling asked.<
br />
  The guard stiffened, then turned his head but didn’t quite manage to look at her over his shoulder. “Busy day.”

  With a pissed-off Sir storming through the front doors? Yeah, I bet.

  When they finally reached the bottom level, the elevator creaked open, and the guard shoved the metal grate back against one side before gesturing for them to get out. The minute Cheyenne and Rhynehart stood in the first corridor of the Dungeon, the metal grate clanged back and the guard took the elevator back up.

  Even through the reinforced seal between the booth and the stone walls, Cheyenne heard the echoing bang of more doors shutting in the main chamber of the prison’s visitation cell. Muffled curses rang out, followed by a low chuckle. Or maybe it’s just for L’zar.

  The halfling glanced at Rhynehart and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look so terrified, man. It’s not like you’re going in there with me.”

  “I’m not—” He gave an aggravated sigh and shook his head. “You’re gonna keep rubbing it in, aren’t you?”

  “Until it stops bothering you, yeah.” Cheyenne took off down the damp stone corridor. The guard stationed in the booth stared at her through the wall of windows. When she reached the door, she thought for a few seconds the guy wouldn’t let her in. He finally slapped a hand on the controls, but the halfling had to open the door herself. She stepped into the booth and moved aside in the cramped space to make room for Rhynehart. “I’m back.”

  “Good for you.” The guard’s eyebrows lifted and dropped, then he nodded at Rhynehart. “Finally let you take the plunge, huh?”

  The FRoE agent shrugged. “First time for everything, I guess.”

  “Yeah. Lotta firsts goin’ on around here.” Once Rhynehart closed the door, the guard shuffled toward the other side of the booth and nodded out the other wall of windows. “He’s all yours. Word this week is Batman.”

  “Really?”

  “Hey, safe words are above my paygrade. I just hand ‘em out and wait to hear it shouted. Or not. Both of you headin’ in this time?”

  “No.” Rhynehart and the halfling blurted it at the same time, and Rhynehart shuffled backward as far as he could in the narrow booth, rubbing his mouth.