by Martha Carr
Cheyenne smiled. If Ember was trying to get a confession out of the halfling, she’d have to do a lot better than that. She texted back a response that was just as vague.
Yeah, totally crazy. Glad you’re getting what you need. Let me know if you need me for anything. I’ll start shopping for badass canes.
Chapter Eighty-Six
At 9:30 the next morning, Cheyenne walked quickly down the hallway of the recovery ward at the VCU Medical Center with a bag of takeout from 821 Cafe in her arms. Apparently, sleeping in these days meant she got up on her own just after 8:00, and she wanted to start today off with something that was just for fun. Mostly.
She stopped at Room 317 and knocked quickly before opening it. Ember was sitting up in the hospital bed with an open book in her hands. The injured fae looked a heck of a lot better than Cheyenne had seen her so far. Her blonde hair was brushed and tied back in a loose ponytail. There was more color in her cheeks, and she’d finally managed to get out of that stupid hospital gown and into the light sweater Cheyenne had brought with the other clothes a couple of days before.
Ember looked up at her friend, dog-eared the page in her book, and tossed it onto the sheets beside her. “Well, hey.”
“Morning.” The halfling flashed her friend an exaggerated grin.
“Woah. You’re not gonna start growling at me, are you?”
“My smile’s that bad, huh?”
Ember laughed. “Only when you don’t actually mean it.”
“Thank God I don’t have to force myself to smile at you anymore.”
“Oh, is that what you’ve been doing all this time? What’s that?”
Cheyenne rolled the bedside table on wheels toward the foot of her friend’s bed, then dragged the crappy armchair closer and sat. “Just some surprise goodness from 821.”
Ember stared at the takeout bag on the bedside table and hummed in approval. “You know, I’ve always wanted someone to bring me breakfast in bed.”
Cheyenne snorted and opened the bag to take out the to-go boxes and put them on the table.
“This looks like the complete opposite of hospital-approved nourishment.”
“Yeah, well, I brought you microwaved pizza rolls the other day, and you seem to be doing just fine. If Dr. Andrews has a problem with it, he can take it up with me.” The halfling froze, blinked, and shook her head. “Actually, I think we’re all better off if I avoid that guy altogether.”
“Yeah, he tried to hide it, but I think he was really freaked out about the whole emergency tech-removal surgery. He asked me a lot of questions yesterday.”
“He did?” Cheyenne grabbed the box of rosemary potatoes with bacon, ham, sausage, and cheese and offered it to Ember, secretly knowing her friend would opt for the box of Nutella-stuffed French toast instead. Which she did, nodding. “What did you tell him?”
“Just your whole life’s story and all the secrets you’re trying to keep and how much trouble you’d be in if the wrong people found out about what you’re doing.”
“Em.”
The fae looked at Cheyenne with wide eyes, then burst out laughing. “I’m kidding. Are you serious?”
With a snort, the halfling shook her head and unwrapped a plastic fork before crossing her legs beneath her in the armchair. “After everything I’ve seen and heard in the last couple days, it honestly wouldn’t surprise me if even you stopped acting like yourself.”
“Wait a minute!” Ember laughed around a forkful of her breakfast.
“No, I know I can trust you.” Cheyenne jammed a bite of greasy, cheesy potatoes into her mouth and talked around it. “It’s everyone else I’m worried about. The people who seem like they know what they’re doing are turning out to be just another huge part of the problem. And all the good people with better intentions and no secrets have no idea what they’re doing.”
“Huh. And you started talking in riddles all of a sudden.”
Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. It’s ridiculous.”
“Is that orange juice?”
“Yep.”
“With pulp?”
“Just for you.”
Grinning, Ember stuck a straw into the jumbo-sized to-go cup and gulped for at least ten seconds. “Oh, man. That’s so much better than the watered-down crap they bring up here in those stupid plastic cups.”
“Yeah, I knew you’d like that.”
“So.” Ember took another bite, closed her eyes to enjoy it, and swallowed. “Who are these good people with no secrets? I didn’t even know that was a thing.”
Cheyenne had to chew and swallow her giant mouthful of bacon and potatoes with extra hot sauce before she could answer. “I just found out yesterday that there’s a family of trolls living three doors down from me.”
“Woah, what?”
“Yeah. A couple and their daughter. I guess they’ve been over here for about a year or something. It’s not really, uh, I don’t know. Maybe a year just isn’t long enough to figure out human things?”
Ember smirked around her food. “Did they just move in or something?”
“Nope. Been there the whole time. And I had absolutely no idea.”
“So, what? You just bumped into them in the hall?”
The halfling buried her smirk in the to-go cup of coffee, then shook her head. “More like I barged in on an orc trying to shake them down for…hell, I don’t know what. Only took me a minute to get the guy off their hands, and now they’re pretty much tripping over themselves to thank me more than it’s worth.”
“You got the guy off their hands.”
“Yeah, more like off their living room floor.” Cheyenne shrugged. “After I put him there.”
“Holy crap.” Ember dropped her plastic fork into the to-go box and stared at her friend. “You met the neighbors by beating up a bad guy in their living room.”
“Pretty much.”
“So why aren’t you as amused by this as I thought you’d be?”
The halfling took another bite, chewed, and waited until Ember’s mouth was full too. “They made me like a hundred pairs of underwear as a thank-you gift.”
Ember choked and sprayed bits of her breakfast into the to-go box. “What?”
Cheyenne just let out another quiet laugh and drank more coffee.
“What the— Hand me one of those napkins, huh?” Ember snatched them from her friend’s outstretched hand and wiped the mess she’d made of her breakfast off her mouth and the front of her sweater. “Are you serious?”
“They were too.”
“Underwear.”
“Bright colors and shiny dangly parts and everything. I could open a belly-dancing costume shop with how much they put in that basket.”
Ember barked another laugh. “That’s…so cute.”
“They were really embarrassed. Now they wanna make it up to me by inviting me over for dinner so they can make me something I’ll actually appreciate, I guess.”
“Well, that’s nice.”
Shoveling another forkful into her mouth, Cheyenne just shrugged. “I mean, I’ve seen magicals eat before. Not a big deal. But if they think making me a bunch of fancy underwear is a grand gesture, I’m a little worried about their idea of sharing a meal.”
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fine. You’re making friends.” Ember grinned.
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“You’re making magical friends. With your neighbors.”
Cheyenne shot the fae a deadpan glare. “Keep saying it like that, and I’m gonna have to find a new apartment complex. I really like this one.”
Shaking her head, Ember took another bite, then set her half-eaten breakfast back on the bedside table. “I’m so full. That’s the weird part. I used to put one of these things away in five minutes, and then I sleep for too many days and wake up to sit around on my ass all day, and now I can’t keep up with you.”
Slurping the last bit of breakfast into her mouth, Cheyenne paused over the to-go box and flicked her ga
ze toward her friend.
Ember laughed. “See? I got a lotta work ahead of me before I get back up to full speed.”
The halfling stuck her empty box back into the takeout bag and licked her lips. “You look like you’re doing really well, though. All things considered.”
“Yeah. All things.” With a little sigh, Ember settled her hands in her lap again and nodded slowly. “And now I get to focus on just how much rehab I can handle. Just outta the blue, you know? Everything’s all taken care of, paid for up front for like two months out. I mean, I’ve always been lucky, but this feels excessive.”
Cheyenne pressed her lips together and didn’t quite manage to look into Ember’s blue eyes. “Then just don’t push your luck, huh?”
“Right.”
“If a good thing comes your way, take it and run.” The halfling stopped short and looked at her friend. “I mean, figuratively.”
“Shut up.” Ember chucked her wadded-up napkin at the half-drow and laughed. “I might not be able to move my legs for a while, Cheyenne, but I’m not made of glass, either. Got it?”
Cheyenne gave her friend a little salute and glanced at the clock mounted on the wall beside the TV. “When does that doctor of yours usually show up?”
“Uh, right about now? I don’t know, though. Might be different on a Saturday.”
“Still, I should probably get outta here.” Gathering up all the trash from the super-quick breakfast, Cheyenne rearranged the giant orange juice and Ember’s leftovers on the nightstand, rolled the thing a little closer to her friend, and bent over to give the fae a hug. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“What? You brought it.”
“Still can’t have breakfast with you if you’re not around.” The halfling gave her friend’s shoulder a little pat and stuck her hands in the pockets of the black Dickies she’d bought just for all the extra pockets. “Oh, hey. Quick question.”
Ember raised her eyebrows.
“You ever see anybody walking around with a big pendant on a chain? Like, in the shape of a bull or something. Not super detailed, just kinda big and clunky?”
“Not that I remember. Why? What is it?”
“No idea. I ran into some dirtbags yesterday, and they were all wearing one. It probably means something. I was just curious.”
“Ran into some dirtbags, huh?” Ember smirked and tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear. “That all it was?”
“Not really. There’s more. I’ll tell you later, but I don’t wanna run into that doctor with all the questions. Not into that today, you know?”
The fae let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll know I’m in trouble when he asks more about you than he does about me.”
“Not gonna happen. Just keep telling him you have no idea who I am or what I want.” Cheyenne pointed toward the bedside table on wheels as she headed for the door. “And maybe, I dunno. Hide that takeout or something.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll just slip it under the sheets, and no one will suspect a thing.”
With a little laugh, the halfling opened the hospital-room door. “See ya, Em. Call me if you need anything.”
“Yep.”
Cheyenne closed the door again and moved quickly through the hall toward the front of the hospital. Maybe Dr. Andrews didn’t make his usual rounds on Saturdays, but she didn’t want to take the chance. She’d already risked enough by asking him to take that tracking device out of her shoulder, not to mention that she probably should’ve stayed to let him clean the wound a little more and maybe sew it up. Her shoulder felt as crappy today as it had yesterday, and she was trying not to believe that maybe it was getting worse.
But the halfling wasn’t going to let herself be distracted by the aching wounds in her shoulder that might or might not get better on their own. Her body usually didn’t have much trouble healing. Today, at least until something popped up or she got a phone call on that stupid burner phone of Sir’s, the half-drow was going on a treasure hunt.
Okay, gu@rdi@n104. Let’s go see what you think is so hard for everyone else to find.
Chapter Eighty-Seven
She decided to park her car in the public lot just down the street from Gnarly’s Pub. Cheyenne hadn’t set foot in the place since the last time she was there with Ember almost two weeks ago. Driving back down East Clay Street to get to the lot felt a little like guilt-ridden déjà vu, but she pushed that aside.
The late-morning sun made the day bright and clear despite the chill. It was a little colder than normal for late September, but fall temperatures were right around the corner. Cheyenne snatched her black canvas jacket with all the extra silver buckles out of the trunk, shrugged into it, and locked the car. Then she pulled out her cellphone and brought up the synced file of gu@rdi@n104’s decrypted treasure map.
If it led her to the information she needed on how to find that bastard Durg and show him a lesson or five, it would all be worth it in the end.
She zoomed in until the apparent directions in super-tiny script in the map’s bottom-left corner were big enough to read and leaned against her car.
If you want a little somethin’ for your troubles, better think outside the map and take a hint.
The halfling still had no idea what that meant and kept scrolling.
There’s nothing like a little heat to get the fires burning. Just don’t forget to wear gloves and wash your face.
“What is this crap?” Sure, the map had all kinds of different-colored lines across it, half of them not even following the streets she knew were there, but that had somehow not made it into gu@rdi@n104’s special secret file.
Turning around in the parking lot, she glanced down East Clay Street and saw the row of bars and pubs and restaurants stretching out in front of her. “Gloves and wash your face. That doesn’t even make—”
When it hit her, she thought she was losing her mind. Sheppard’s Hothouse? Is this guy for real?
The restaurant a few blocks down was pretty popular among people in the area who had turned culinary appreciation into an extreme sport. The place on her mind right now had some of the hottest wings in Richmond. Cheyenne would know. She used to go there every week when she was living in the dorms at VCU during freshman year.
She stuck her phone and her hands into her jacket pockets and took off down East Clay Street away from the parks, heading southeast.
There were plenty of people out and about on a nice day like this. Most of them were college kids. The rest apparently found it impossible not to stare at the Goth chick stalking down the sidewalk in broad daylight, probably scowling like she hated the entire world and couldn’t wait for it to end.
Fortunately, she’d stuck her earbuds into one of the side pockets of her pants before she’d left the house, and pulled these out now to plug them into her phone. Then the earbuds went in her ears, and she pulled up the last System of a Down album she actually enjoyed listening to. The volume went up as loud as it would go.
This is the sound of my happy place. Before the happy place turned into slipping in and out of drow mode whenever the hell I feel like it.
The walk to Sheppard’s was short enough in the scheme of things, and by the time she stopped in front of the entrance, the halfling was starting to feel a lot like she was missing something. Not that she’d picked the wrong place from that stupid clue. More like she’d picked the right place and couldn’t see why the hell gu@rdi@n104 had chosen it.
She stopped, ignoring the chick with the almost creepily pale skin staring at her in the restaurant window’s reflection, and her gaze settled on a flyer taped up on the window.
Flamin’ X Wings. You’ll wish you never tasted hot like this before, and then you’ll keep coming back. Just don’t forget to wear gloves and wash your face when you’re done.
“Huh.” The halfling glanced down at the map file on her phone and the blown-up text of the most useless directions ever. Except they weren’t. Not really.
This has to be the right plac
e. So what the heck am I looking for?
Cheyenne moved slowly down the sidewalk, peering through the windows into the restaurant and wondering whether she’d see anything more than menus, fresh food on plates, and customers ready and willing to burn off their taste buds. She got to the end of the restaurant windows, wrinkled her nose, and stopped when her shoe scuffed against something in the middle of the sidewalk.
It was just a broken piece of concrete, smashed in by who only knew what. But just on the other side of the upturned chunk was a dotted black line shooting diagonally away from Sheppard’s Hothouse and into the alley on the other side. That’s too easy.
She zoomed out on the map on her phone and found the area where she thought she was right now, which was harder to do without any street names. There was one of those dotted black lines that cut off right about where she was standing before picking up maybe three or four blocks farther east.
Maybe it was a total long shot. But with heavy metal blasting in her ears and the cool, crisp air blowing through her hair, why not step into an alley beside a hot wings joint and poke around for some other weird-ass clue?
Cheyenne moved slowly to the end of the sidewalk, watching the dotted black line that was scratched and scuffed with so many footsteps. These have been here a while. How old is this crazy map?
Turning into the alley, she scanned the middle-height walls on either side, noted the dumpster halfway back, and checked out the fire escape. The dotted black line ended at the wall on her right without picking back up again. The halfling followed it anyway, thinking maybe she’d find something at the place where the dotted black line and the wall met. But when she got there, that was all it was—just a wall in an alley.
I’m an idiot for thinking a map from a dark-web forum admin would actually—
She stopped and cocked her head. Then she slowly took the earbuds out of her ears and tried to figure out if this was real. System of a Down was replaced by the pedestrians’ voices, the rush of cars making their way down the street, and birds cawing annoyingly, but the tug between her shoulders was still there, like someone had pulled a string of Cheyenne’s senses right out of her back between her shoulder blades and was trying to jerk her toward something else. Definitely a new feeling.