The Drow Hath Sent Thee

by Martha Carr

  L’zar clapped his hands and grinned, staring at his daughter and her mother. “We’re finally all together with nowhere to be and no other pressing issues. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Cheyenne and Bianca gave him matching blank stares.

  “Oh, come on.” He chuckled. “You have to see what a fortunate sliver of synchronicity this is. After all this time, here we are. Our own little family reunion moment.”

  “The fuck it is.” Cheyenne summoned a new energy sphere and ignored the pointed glance Bianca shot her way.

  L’zar narrowed his eyes and glanced at them. “But we are a family.”

  “No.” Cheyenne and her mother said it at the same time.

  “Oh.” L’zar dropped his arms to his sides and shrugged. “And here I was, thinking the word had a literal definition.”

  Bianca ignored him and met her daughter’s gaze. “We’ve been talking, Cheyenne. Since I regained consciousness yesterday morning.”

  “About what?”

  “About you and everything that lies both behind you and in front of you.” Bianca dipped her head.

  She already knows what happened to her. Ba’rael’s curse, L’zar’s part in it, everything. “I can’t believe this.”

  “That’s all it’s been, Cheyenne.” L’zar clasped his hands behind his back, his composure back now that she wasn’t trying to kill him and his familial proposal had been outright rejected. “Bianca and I were merely talking. Quite civilly, I might add.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I think right now, while emotions are running high,” Bianca added, “we should table this discussion. Go our separate ways and approach this in the morning.”

  “Emotions running high.” Cheyenne studied her mom and the woman’s composed posture. Bianca raised an eyebrow, and that sealed the deal. “Right. I’ll go take some time to cool off, shall I?”

  She snuffed out the second energy sphere she never got to send into L’zar’s face and gave her mom a challenging look.

  “This is real, Cheyenne.” L’zar reached out and brushed his hand against her shoulder. “We only want what’s best for you.”

  “Fuck off.” She shrugged away from him and stormed down the hall. “You want what’s best for yourself.”

  Bianca watched her daughter stomp toward the top of the stairs before jogging down them to the main floor, but she didn’t say a word. “Hmm. I think your powers of persuasion have diminished a good deal in the last twenty-one years.”

  L’zar chuckled. “She’ll come around. We had the opportunity to get to know each other quite well during our time on the other side.”

  Bianca turned toward him and raised an eyebrow. “Then she’s even less likely to forgive you.”

  He grinned and stepped toward her. “What about you, Bianca? Are you any more inclined to warm to me again now that you see the full scope of things?”

  She tilted her head back to look up at him as he brushed the backs of his fingers against the turquoise satin of her nightshirt. “Not so far.”

  “Ah.” L’zar glanced at his hand, removed it from her arm, and dropped it at his side again. “We have time, and I hope I’ve made it clear I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

  “You can congratulate yourself all you want for staying in my presence longer than four consecutive hours, but don’t mistake my prioritizing Cheyenne’s wellbeing for forgiveness or even acceptance.”

  “No. Of course not.” L’zar clasped his hands behind his back and dipped his head toward her in a shallow bow. “Take all the time you need. Can I bring you anything?”

  Bianca eyed him, then stepped back into her room, grabbing the handle of the open door. “The last thing I want right now is to see your face. Go skulk somewhere else.”

  She closed the door firmly in his face.

  “Hmm.” L’zar chuckled and straightened from where he’d bent toward Bianca Summerlin. Then he turned and locked eyes with Ember, who still stood by the rail surrounding the second-floor landing, her eyes wide. “I think that went rather well, don’t you?”

  She shook her head and lifted both hands. “Don’t try to drag me into this, man.”

  “Well, then why are you still standing there?”

  “You guys were blocking the hall.” Ember shrugged and floated past him, staring at the open doors of the breakfast room until she turned at the top of the stairs.

  “Talk to her, will you?” he asked. “She listens to you.”

  “Sorry.” Ember gestured at him and floated quickly down the staircase. “Whatever the hell that was, L’zar, you’re on your own.”

  He watched her until she headed beneath the stairs off the foyer. With a final glance at Bianca’s closed bedroom doors, he turned toward the front of the house and strolled casually down the hall. “They’ll come around.”

  L’zar’s body shimmered in the air, and he disappeared.

  Ember could hear Cheyenne rooting around in the wet bar beneath the stairs before she rounded the corner into the dining area. The halfling knelt in front of the liquor cabinet, pulling out bottle after bottle until she found the one she wanted and stood. “You okay?”

  “No.” The bottle popped when Cheyenne jerked off the lid, and she poured four fingers of dark-amber bourbon into a rocks glass. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “Okay, well, you want any ice in that?”

  Cheyenne lifted the glass and set the bottle on the top of the wet bar with a clink of glass on glass. “Also no, Em, but I definitely wouldn’t mind the company. You want one?”

  “Yeah, sure. Half of what you’re drinking and a lot more ice.”

  The halfling quickly turned back to snatch another rocks glass off the cabinet’s top shelf. The lid of the ice drawer slammed aside, and ice plinked violently into the glass before she filled it as full as her own.

  Ember’s eyes widened when her friend handed her the drink. “I said half as much as you.”

  “That is half, Em. Blame the ice.” Cheyenne knocked back a huge gulp of bourbon and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe this. The two of them getting together behind my back like some kind of co-parenting team. Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Ember sipped her drink.

  “There’s no way she believes the crap spewing out of his mouth, right? She has to know how full of shit he is.” The halfling took another large gulp and gritted her teeth, staring at the floor. “He’s not here because he cares about her. There’s something else he wants out of this.”

  She tapped a finger against her glass, frowning as her gaze flickered across the hardwood.

  Ember tilted her head. “You do wanna talk about it?”

  “No.” Cheyenne looked at her friend, a tense smile plastered onto her lips. “I wanna get shitfaced, Em, and talk about literally anything else until I’m passed out on the floor. ‘Kay?”

  Ember floated slowly forward, raised her glass, and clinked it against Cheyenne’s. “That’s what friends are for.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “You know what really gets me?” Cheyenne Summerlin slumped against the armrest of the loveseat in the sitting area of her mom’s house, her glass of bourbon sloshing around in her hand as she propped her arm up on the expensive upholstery.

  Ember stared into her gin and tonic. She’d switched to that after the first bourbon. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “I’m so fucking sick of the games, you know?” Cheyenne paused to take another huge gulp of her second drink in the last half hour. It wouldn’t be long until she went back for a third. “Like, everyone thinks this is something we can get out of in the end. If it works out, great. If it doesn’t, no problem. It’s not like it affects us.”

  The fae squinted at her friend, then eyed Cheyenne’s nearly empty glass. “You’re still talking about L’zar and Bianca, aren’t you?”

  “No.” Cheyenne looked down at her drink too. “Maybe. I think I’m venting about everyone else, and
I probably haven’t had this much bourbon in an hour since the first time I raided that wet bar.”

  Ember snorted. “You know what really gets me?”

  “What?”

  “The fact that human booze gets you all loosened up like this when the hardcore medical stuff doesn’t do shit.”

  Cheyenne said, “Did I tell you about when I broke my arm as a kid? Doctors kept upping the anesthesia.”

  “And couldn’t knock you out with a dose big enough for a full-grown man? Yeah, you told me.”

  “Oh.”

  Ember sipped her drink, then shrugged. “Honestly, I’m more concerned that any doctor would pump that amount of drugs into a little girl.”

  “Yeah, well, most doctors don’t see little girls who can change the color of their skin and grow pointy ears when they’re in a hell of a lot of pain. At least, it hurt a lot back then, anyway.”

  “Well, yeah. You were a kid.”

  “With a high tolerance for pain and all the tolerance for narcotics. Too bad no one tried to get me wasted first and then take me in for surgery.”

  Ember wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think alcohol and invasive surgery are a good idea. Blood thinner and everything, right?”

  “Yeah, Em. I know. I’m just sayin’.” After knocking back the rest of her drink, Cheyenne sighed, slapped the armrest, and kicked off her black Vans, letting them fall wherever they landed on the area rug in the sitting area. I don’t think Mom’s gonna give a shit where I leave my shoes right now. She’s got a bigger mess upstairs. If L’zar even is still upstairs.

  She craned her neck to glare at the underside of the huge central staircase and the hallway where she’d left both her parents staring tensely after her. He can go fuck himself.

  “Okay. Time for another.” She stood from the loveseat and gestured at Ember with her empty glass. “You want more?”

  “I just made this one.”

  Cheyenne shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Sure. We’re both goin’ at our own pace.”

  “Uh-huh. And mine stops when I reach that line between being here for you while you angry-drink and joining you in the land of I Don’t Give a Fuck.”

  The halfling’s rocks glass clinked down on the glass surface of the wet bar before the dwindling bottle of bourbon opened in her hands again with a pop. “I’m allowed a night of drinking myself into that land, Em. Especially after all the shit upstairs I’m trying to burn out of my memory with good booze.”

  “Fair enough. I’m not trying to stop you. Just callin’ it like I see it.”

  “Fine. I don’t want you to feel like you have to chaperone me in my mom’s house. I can handle it.”

  “I know.” Ember sat back against the pillows on the chaise and muttered into her glass, “I’m wondering about everyone else.”

  Cheyenne poured herself another four-finger glass of bourbon, no ice, pretending she hadn’t heard her friend’s most-likely-private comment. I grew up in a house where you drink instead of talking about your feelings. Guess this apple rolled back to the tree on that one.

  She took a sip, let herself imagine she still tasted it as much as the first glass, and walked slowly back to the loveseat.

  Ember chuckled. “You look like you sat on a cactus.”

  “What?”

  “You feelin’ okay?”

  Cheyenne reached into her back pocket to pull out her buzzing cell phone. “Jeeze. Spend a couple of days in Ambar’ogúl, and you forget all about smartphones. They are a pain in the ass compared to activators. Am I right?”

  “Not nearly as convenient.” Ember raised her eyebrows. “You gonna answer that, drunk drow?”

  “Highly buzzed, thank you very much.” Cheyenne finally glanced at the name pulled up on her screen and wrinkled her nose. “Serious pain in my ass. It’s Rhynehart.”

  “Yeah, you should put that on speaker too. You know, for fun.”

  “Right.” With a snort, the halfling answered the call and put it on speaker for her Nós Aní’s benefit. “What’s up, Rhynehart?”

  “Were you planning on calling me back, kid? Or did I slip your mind entirely?”

  She took a long drink and made sure the slurp was extra-loud. “Kinda had a few things come up. Got your voicemail, though. That was a fun surprise.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it. Now I’m following up.”

  “Sweet.” She slurped again. “About what?”

  A long pause on the other line was his response. Then the agent cleared his throat. “You know, I’ve spent a long time hearing the differences over the phone and learning when not to ask, but I can’t help it right now. Are you drunk?”

  Ember laughed and quickly cut it off by taking a sip of her drink.

  “Highly buzzed, Rhynehart. There’s a serious difference. And yes, I promise I’ll remember this conversation in the morning. So go.”

  “Uh-huh.” He sighed heavily. “Well, first, I guess I could take this chance to thank you for the career change. Seeing as you played such a huge part in it.”

  Cheyenne frowned. Why does he think I give a shit? “Yeah, congratulations. We should talk about this thing with your superior’s superior, yeah? You said you wanted in, so now I wanna know what you can do on base and with your clearance level to help us get ready for this thing on Monday. If I feel like letting you all the way in on it.”

  Ember widened her eyes at her friend’s highly buzzed attitude, and Cheyenne took another gulp of bourbon in response. I only told him about Colonel Thomas meeting with the Bull’s Head assholes. Didn’t invite him in yet.

  Rhynehart let out another sigh. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing what?”

  “Nothing, as in I can’t do shit on base and with my clearance level, seeing as it’s non-existent now.”

  “What?” Cheyenne looked at Ember again, and the fae leaned over her lap to get closer to the phone.

  “I got canned, kid,” Rhynehart muttered, his low voice bordering on exploding with anger. “Thirteen fucking years at this gig and they stripped me of the whole thing the day a certain scaly inmate broke out of that prison.”

  “Shit.” She took another drink.

  “Yeah. Straight from my superior’s superior, if that’s the way we’re skirtin’ around the details. He thinks he’s onto me. He probably thinks the same thing about you, seeing as every guard in the front of the building saw us walk in together with the new recruits.”

  He’s still not gonna risk calling out Colonel Thomas by name or say what we were doing there over the phone.

  “Well, shit, Rhynehart. Definitely didn’t see that one coming.”

  “Yeah, me neither. Anyway, he knows what we know?”

  “I seriously doubt it.” Cheyenne sipped on her drink and sat back in the loveseat. “If you got sacked the day of, I would’ve seen something then. Had a meeting with him and everything.”

  Rhynehart paused. “In person?”

  “Yeah, in person. That’s how I know what I know, and I’m assuming that’s why you called. Again. You want in?”

  “Fuck yeah, I do. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

  Cheyenne smiled. “I know the feeling.”

  “Then I’ll get everything together. Grab a team. Gear up.”

  “How are you gonna do that without your precious security clearance?”

  He snorted. “Please. Being off the books doesn’t mean I can’t still get shit done. Off the books. So, when are we doing this?”

  “You know, I don’t think I’ve heard you this excited about anything.”

  “The fuckers tossed me out with the trash, Cheyenne! Like the last thirteen years never happened. Why wouldn’t I wanna crush that asshole into the ground?”

  “I like your attitude.” She looked at Ember and raised her eyebrows over a small, satisfied smile. “But you’re gonna have to wait. We’ll do this on Monday, so you have about forty-eight hours.”

  “We should move that up.”

  “Nope. You’re gonna have to wait, and I’ll
fill you in on the rest of the details later. I’m a little busy right now gettin’ my bourbon on, so I’m gonna let you go.”

  “Cheyenne, hold on a minute.”

  She ended the call and dropped her phone on the plush loveseat cushion beside her.

  Ember chuckled. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

  “You mean the first conversation where I’m calling all the shots and the FRoE agent who fucked me over more than a few times couldn’t say shit about it? Me? Enjoying that? Come on.” Cheyenne lifted her glass to her lips again, grinning.

  “Ex-FRoE agent.”

  “Doesn’t fucking matter, Em. I’ll be running a team through the first FRoE rebellion in twenty-one years.”

  “I thought it’s only been around for twenty-one years.”

  “Even better.” Leaning forward, Cheyenne stretched her drink out toward her friend, and they clinked glasses. “Maybe this is turning into a celebration.”

  “Okay.” Ember took her first long drink, then stared at her glass as the ice swirled around in her gin and tonic. “Then I guess I’ll switch to celebrating with you.”

  Cheyenne drank until she could barely taste the bourbon. Staggering up the wide staircase at the end of the night hadn’t been in her plans, but neither she nor Ember was in a state to make the hour-long drive back to Richmond. The thought that L’zar might still be upstairs, hovering around Bianca as the woman recovered from the curse that had taken her out for the last three days, only briefly entered her swirling mind. She didn’t really give a shit.

  The next thing she knew, she was lying face-down on the bed she hated in the room she hated. Ember’s muttered conversation to herself floated down the hall from the open door of the guest room. The whole world spun around the halfling, made worse when she closed her eyes.

  Everything that’s happened over the last few months, and this is the first time I get full-on shitfaced. Fairly sure I deserve it.