by Martha Carr
The girls moved quickly and quietly up the wide staircase that rose through the center of the Summerlin estate. Cheyenne cast a brief glance through the open French doors into the breakfast room. From where she stood at the top of the stairs, only the top half of the destroyed Border portal in her mom’s backyard was visible, now nothing more than a pile of black stone rubble and cracked earth. Nothing weird about that, either. And I’m sure destroyed portals don’t pick themselves back up and carry on.
She turned right and right again with Ember behind her, moving down the second-story hallway stretching toward the front of the house. Cheyenne stopped in front of the closed doors to the master bedroom and gritted her teeth. Just keep reassuring her you’ll take care of it. Because you will, Cheyenne. That’s what you do.
Ember’s fingers lightly brushed her friend’s arm as she whispered, “You got this.” Cheyenne nodded at her with a small, uncertain smile, then softly knocked three times on the door. “Mom?”
She heard the rustling of sheets and a slight creak of the usually silent box spring. Cheyenne’s drow hearing picked up the gentle pat of her mom’s hands on the bedspread and the swipe of Bianca’s fingers across either her face or her neck. She’s definitely awake.
Cheyenne opened her mouth to call out again, but Bianca beat her to it.
“Come in.” The woman’s voice was as calm, low, and even-keeled as it was burned into her daughter’s mind.
The halfling cranked down on the door handle and pushed open only one of the doors before stepping tentatively inside. “Hi, Mom.”
“Cheyenne.” Bianca Summerlin was on the right-hand side of her king-sized bed, her side, despite the other half of the bed having always been empty. She was propped against a massive pile of all the pillows that usually decorated the pristinely made bed in the early evening, even on a Saturday. The woman lifted her chin, showing no emotion although she was still in bed, her loose brown curls tied back neatly but without their usual sleek look. She was in turquoise silk pajamas, which made her look that much paler and surprisingly exhausted.
When her mom didn’t say anything else, Cheyenne gestured at the open door behind her. “Ember’s here too.”
“Yes, I see that. Hello, Ember.”
Ember smiled. “Hi, Bianca.”
The woman’s lips twitched into what couldn’t remotely be called a real smile, even for her.
“Is it okay if she’s here?” Cheyenne asked.
“I don’t mind staying out here if you’d rather be alone.”
“Alone.” Bianca let out a quick hum of bitter amusement and gestured at the inside of her room. “Ember, I very much appreciate you accompanying my daughter to our home, whether it’s in support of her or me or most likely both. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Okay, thanks.” Ember floated through the doorway and shot Cheyenne a small, unsure smile of her own. “How are you feeling?”
Bianca glanced down at the one-inch space between the soles of Ember’s shoes and the massive antique area rug. “I was going to say I’m doing as well as the circumstances warrant. But now, Ember, seeing you out of that wheelchair in such a short amount of time brings a certain unexpected optimism.”
“Oh.” Ember glanced quickly down at her hovering feet.
“Don’t bother mincing words on my account. I was already aware of your involvement in Cheyenne’s personal endeavors. I didn’t realize quite how far that extended.”
“Right.” Ember nodded. “I didn’t know this was possible either until the last time we saw each other.”
The small, genuine smile Bianca gave the fae was a rare sight Cheyenne remembered being aimed at her maybe five times in her life. “I’m happy for you, Ember. Truly. Most people with similar experiences have to re-learn to navigate their life from an entirely new perspective. You’ve reached a highly coveted success against all odds.”
“Thank you.” Ember let out a soft, self-conscious chuckle. “I didn’t do it all on my own, though, so I can’t take all the credit.”
“Indeed.” Bianca’s dark eyes shifted toward her daughter, then back to the human-illusioned fae. “But I will credit you for humility.”
I’ve gotta be dreaming. Cheyenne stared at her mom, who was gazing in admiration at Ember. If she knew the odds I’ve been up against, I’m not sure she’d be congratulating me at all. At least someone has her full approval. I stopped needing it anyway.
“I know you’re probably really confused,” Cheyenne started. “And angry.”
“Oh.” Bianca let out an unamused chuckle. “Angry is a rather simplistic catch-all, Cheyenne.”
“Mom, I’m sorry.”
“Be that as it may, I am grateful to be conscious and capable of continuing through this situation fully of my own volition.” When the woman tilted her head, the collar of her tightly buttoned silk nightshirt shifted slightly away from her collarbone. A half-inch of the highest scar magically burned into her flesh peeked out from beneath the fabric. Bianca caught her daughter staring but didn’t try to hide the evidence. “If I had two armchairs in my bedroom, I’d offer you both a seat.”
“That’s okay.” Ember shook her head with a patient smile. “Sitting and standing are pretty much the same thing for me at this point.”
“Hmm.”
Cheyenne swallowed. I’m not gonna take the chair and make Ember stand. And there’s no way Mom’s inviting me to sit at the edge of her bed for a cozy heart-to-heart. “Did Eleanor say anything about what happened that might’ve helped you wake up?”
“No, Cheyenne. Eleanor’s explanation, though perfectly well-intentioned, was about as useful to me as a spoon is for carving a ham.”
Ember choked back a small laugh.
Cheyenne nodded. “She did really well, all things considered.”
“Oh, I have no doubt. And she’ll continue to do well after the fact.”
Ember jerked her thumb toward the open door behind them. “She did seem a little out of it when we got here.”
Bianca blinked, her face expressionless again, and gave them a tense nod. “Yes, I suppose the last five days would take their toll on anyone. In varying degrees, of course.”
The three women glanced around, everyone trying to be polite without stepping on any toes. Cheyenne badly wanted to clench her fists and walk out of the bedroom, to come back later when Bianca Summerlin wasn’t so freshly out of a magical three-day coma. We need to get this the fuck over with.
She stepped forward. “Do you want to know what happened?”
Bianca slowly tilted her head. “Will knowing change anything about my current situation?”
Seriously? Cheyenne slowly shook her head. “No.”
“Then I have no desire to hear the tale of how I came to wake up in my own bed with certain physical alterations.” The woman blinked twice and swallowed.
“I wish I had an explanation.”
“I didn’t ask for an explanation, Cheyenne. I didn’t ask for any of this, but here we are.” She looked her daughter up and down and took a long, slow breath. “Nor do I blame you. I want to make that perfectly clear.”
“Okay.” Cheyenne nodded stiffly. “Thanks for saying it, at least.”
“You know I wouldn’t if I didn’t believe you had little to no direct hand in it.” Bianca stretched her arm out to the side and beckoned her daughter forward with a quick flick of her hand. “I’d come to you, but I seem to have spent my limited energy before two o’clock today.”
Moving slowly, Cheyenne approached her mother’s bed, forcing herself not to break Bianca’s gaze. This feels like the time I blew up the oak tree out front, only now I’m fifteen years older and bigger than her, and she’s incapacitated in her bed. You’re an adult, Cheyenne. Act like it. She stopped in front of Bianca’s outstretched arm, and her mom settled her hand gracefully back in her lap beneath the comforter.
“Well, sit down. It’s difficult for me to keep my neck bent like this for very long.” As if to drive her
point home, Bianca lowered her chin and stared pointedly at the empty space at the edge of the bed beside her outstretched legs.
Wow. I was wrong about the cozy heart-to-heart. Cheyenne sat stiffly, and a heavy sigh of relief escaped her when Bianca leaned forward and set a hand on her daughter’s thigh.
“Cheyenne, I won’t lie to you.” The woman lowered her voice and leaned closer. “You don’t deserve it, and I’m no longer in a position to assume I can protect you from anything. Even my opinions.”
“Okay.”
“I find no satisfaction whatsoever in my personal situation.” Bianca gave her daughter’s thigh a brief, gentle squeeze. “But I can’t put into words how relieved and grateful I am to see you here after the last time we parted ways. Healthy and well and in one piece.”
Her gaze drifted from Cheyenne’s face to take in the rest of her. She paused, removed her hand from her daughter’s thigh, and pointed cautiously at the tips of the thick black lines streaking across Cheyenne’s chest from beneath her black t-shirt.
“Did I speak too soon?”
“What?” Cheyenne looked down at her neckline and quickly tugged her shirt up over the poison lines. “No, Mom. I’m fine. Promise.”
“Let me see.”
“You don’t need to. Really. ”
“If you promise me you’re fine and mean it, Cheyenne, I see no reason why you insist on hiding whatever that is.” Bianca’s eyes bored into her daughter’s, and Cheyenne didn’t have it in her to fight back on this one, not when she’d spent three days wondering if her mom would wake up from Ba’rael’s curse.
Cheyenne glanced at the wall behind her mom and tilted her head. “Fine. Go ahead.”
Bianca didn’t hesitate to reach out and pull Cheyenne’s shirt away from her neck and toward her shoulder. Her eyes widened and she stretched the shirt away from the open dart wound a little more, then lowered her hand into her lap. “What is that?”
“I got into a fight yesterday.” And we can leave it at that because if I say anything else, this moment is over.
“A fight.” Bianca blinked at her daughter and pursed her lips. “Do I want to know the details?”
“Nope. Other than that, I’m fine.”
“She didn’t start it,” Ember added. She ran her hands down the sides of her pants and nodded.
Bianca glanced briefly at the fae, then scanned Cheyenne again. “I hope you finished it, too.”
“More or less, yeah.”
“You need to have that looked at.” Bianca nodded at her daughter’s shoulder. “It’s festering.”
“I know, Mom. Ember’s one of the best healers pretty much anywhere for these kinds of wounds. They’re a lot better than they were yesterday.”
“They?” Her mom’s eyebrows lifted. “There’s more than one?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’m fine.”
“Cheyenne, that does not look ‘fine.’”
“I know, but it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me, and I can still function. So I’m fine.” The halfling’s voice rose at the end of her statement, not of her volition. It surprised them both, and Bianca stared at her daughter until she finally gave in and dipped her head.
“If you believe you have this taken care of, I’ll defer to your understanding. I’m not too proud to admit that mine is remarkably limited.”
Jesus, she’s pulling out all the stops today. Bianca Summerlin doesn’t back down.
Cheyenne opened her mouth to try reassuring her mom again in a gentler way, but she stopped when a prickling tingle of magical energy raced across the back of her neck and shoulders. It didn’t fade but pulsed continuously. She rolled her shoulders back.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, Mom. I just remembered something I need to take care of.” She shook her head and gave her mom a small, dismissive smile. Someone’s here. Right now, in her room, watching us. And it’s not Ember.
“Well, don’t let me keep you from taking care of it.” Bianca settled back against the pillows again and nodded.
I’m being dismissed. Cheyenne set her hand on her mom’s shin beneath the comforter, then removed it and stood. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I won’t, Cheyenne, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Bianca watched her daughter stand and cross the room to rejoin Ember. “Thank you for coming to see me—both of you. Feel free to stay through dinner or longer if you like. I’m still taking my meals up here for the time being, but Eleanor would be grateful for the additional company, I’m sure.”
“Thank you.” Ember smiled at the woman, but it faded when she saw the dark frown Cheyenne hid from her mom.
When the halfling looked at her friend, she shook her head only enough for Ember to see. If Bianca knows there’s someone else in here, she wouldn’t say anything about it out in the open. I should’ve figured that out when Eleanor couldn’t say “master bedroom.”
Cheyenne reached the open door and turned around to face her mom again. It was a longshot, but there was no way Bianca had forgotten their code phrase. She came up with it so her halfling kid wouldn’t have to tell her in public she was about to magically explode, and now I’m gonna use it in her bedroom. Jesus.
The sharp, buzzing tingle raced continuously along the back of her neck and shoulders. “Mom?”
Bianca opened her eyes and settled them on her daughter.
“Do you guys have cherries in the house?”
Her mom blinked faster than usual but recovered quickly and lifted her chin. “No, Cheyenne. No cherries.”
“I can get some for you if you want. Just say the word.”
“I’ve lost my taste for cherries, but thank you. Do come to say goodbye before you leave, whenever that is.”
“Okay.” Cheyenne forced a smile, then turned back and nodded for Ember to step with her into the hall. She might not have picked up on someone else in the room. She hadn’t looked surprised that I brought it up. She’s lying.
“Good to see you, Bianca,” Ember called over her shoulder.
“Thank you, Ember. I always enjoy your visits.”
Cheyenne nodded at her mom, grabbed the door handle, and slowly closed the door with a gentle click. Then she stepped back and took a slow, deep breath, making as little sound as possible.
Ember frowned at her.
Cheyenne quickly lifted a finger to her lips, shook her head, then pointed at the closed French doors and mouthed, “Someone’s here.”
Ember’s eyes widened, and she floated soundlessly toward the banister surrounding the second-floor landing without a word.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cheyenne scanned the bare walls and the pristinely dusted French doors of her mom’s bedroom. Whoever it is won’t hang around now that they’ve seen me here. All I have to do is wait.
She counted silently to a full sixty seconds, then a humanoid shimmer of opalescent light materialized in the wall right in front of her. Black shoes and ironed black slacks moved through the wall first, followed by a button-down black shirt and L’zar Verdys’ slate-gray skin and white hair.
The drow thief phased through the wall, looking over his shoulder and grinning at what he thought was a successful attempt at walking out of there without being caught. He was still grinning when Cheyenne pounced on him, grabbed two fistfuls of his button-down shirt, and slammed him against the now-solid wall.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she hissed.
L’zar’s surprise faded and he blinked at his daughter. “Cheyenne. What a lovely surprise.”
“Don’t pull that shit with me, L’zar. You were in there the whole time!” She thumped him against the wall again, and he didn’t even try to fight back. “You better start talking right now.”
“Wait, wait. Easy, okay?” He let out a short chuckle and lifted both hands in surrender. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh, yeah? So you weren’t spying on my conversation with Bianca and decided to sneak out when you fig
ured Ember and I were gone. ‘Cause that’s what it fucking looks like.”
“Well, that part of it does have some truth to it.” His smile faded when she growled at him. “I’m not hurting her, Cheyenne. She knows I’m here.”
“What?” She jerked her hands away from his shirt and stepped back.
“You heard me.” With a mocking frown, he readjusted his shirt and stepped away from the wall. “We were having a rather amicable conversation before the two of you arrived, and we thought it would be best if you didn’t know I was here. For now.”
“What the fuck!”
L’zar pursed his lips. “I realize this might be difficult for you to understand.”
“Don’t.” Cheyenne pointed at him. “Don’t even start with the ‘let me explain this complicated matter to you’ bullshit.”
“I would like to explain, though.”
“No. Everything that comes out of your mouth is bullshit and poison.” Cheyenne summoned a crackling black energy orb in one hand and cocked her head at her father. “I swear to god, L’zar, if you’ve done anything to hurt her—”
“Really, now. Why would I want to do that?”
“You already did!”
One of the French doors creaked open. Drow father and daughter turned at the same time to see Bianca step cautiously into the hall, steadying herself with one hand on the closed door. She looked at Cheyenne, then Ember, and her face remained aggravatingly impassive even when she met L’zar’s gaze. “It seems your plan had more holes in it than you realized.”
L’zar scoffed. “Well, I never said I was perfect.”
Bianca glanced at the crackling energy sphere in her daughter’s hand and blinked slowly. “This isn’t the place or time, Cheyenne. Put it away.”
The black and purple orb snuffed out, and Cheyenne stepped forward. “Mom, are you seriously going along with this?”
“I’m not going along with anything.” While the rest of Bianca was calm, composed, and perfectly in control despite being barefoot and in pajamas, the ligaments on the hand tightly gripping the closed door betrayed the effort she was putting into staying on her feet. “I won’t say I particularly enjoy this man’s presence in my home, especially looking the way he does, but I agreed to let him stay temporarily.”