by Martha Carr
Slipping into drow mode so her activator would pull up everything she wanted, Cheyenne selected the command to download all the information she’d taken from Colonel Les Thomas’ computer in his FRoE office days before and stuck it into the Bunker program to keep prying virtual eyes out.
The last thing I need is for Matthew to stumble on a backdoor into my system and find all this shit right out in the open. Even though he apparently thinks I can do whatever he can’t.
With the colonel’s files still in her homemade cyber bomb-shelter, she wrapped it all up in a more complex version of the encryption Maleshi, AKA Professor Maddie Bergmann, had assigned her Advanced Programming class to create at the beginning of the year. Ironic, right? The code that got her attention is the same thing I’m wrapping around classified FRoE information to send to a scorned ex-agent with a vendetta. I like it.
When the encryption finished writing itself around the colonel’s files, she created a new download link on her server, dropped the encrypted files there, then pulled up a new email to Rhynehart.
Subject: What You’ve Been Waiting For
Email: “GoRookieorGoHome701k49@C1”
Below that, she pasted the link for the file package and hit send.
There. Now he has everything. Piece of cake.
Her cell phone buzzed in her back pocket, and when she took it out, she frowned at Rhynehart’s number on the screen. Or not.
She accepted the call and pressed the phone to her ear. “Something wrong?”
“What the hell is this shit?”
“What you’ve been waiting for, Rhynehart. I thought I made that pretty obvious.”
The agent sighed. “There’s nothing obvious about what you sent me. How the hell am I supposed to know what to do with this?”
“So, I have to explain how emails work too?”
“Yeah. Pretend I was born yesterday.”
“With a full head of hair and everything, huh?”
“Cheyenne.”
She spun away from her desk in the chair, stretching both legs out in front of her and propping one ankle across the other. “Yeah, okay. See that long string of letters and numbers underlined in blue? That’s a hyperlink.”
“Fuck you. I know what a link is. It doesn’t pull up shit.”
“Wrong. See the little popup with the text box?”
“And?”
Cheyenne bit back a laugh. “Login box, Rhynehart. Requires a password. Think you can figure out what that is?”
“Not if you don’t fucking tell me. Oh. The email.”
“There you go.”
“Seriously, how was I supposed to know that? It’s not like you sent instructions.”
“I didn’t think I had to.”
Rhynehart cleared his throat. “Shit, I don’t know. It could’ve been like a virus or something, right? Some asshole trying to steal all my personal info.”
“Well, yeah, it’s possible someone might want to do that. But no one’s gonna send you a virus on my personal email set up through my private server, man. Thanks for the confidence in my security.”
“Whatever.” The sound of hard typing came over the line, followed by a short pause. “Okay. I’m in.”
“Awesome.”
“Holy shit, halfling!”
Cheyenne swiveled back and forth in her chair. “Yep.”
“Fuck. I’m hanging up. I can’t talk to you and look at all this at the same time.”
“Okay.”
“Damn. This is some seriously deep shit you stepped in.” Rhynehart cleared his throat. “You sure no one else is gonna find this? I mean, you can find anything on the internet, right?”
“Not if it’s encrypted like that and only two people have the key. Make sure you permanently delete that email when you’re done, yeah?”
“Sure. I’ll fucking shred it. Jesus Christ.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you to it. If you still want in on this afterward, meet me at Hard Times Café in Alexandria tomorrow. Two o’clock.”
“Why two?”
She pressed her lips together to hold back another laugh and cocked her head. “Well, I would ask what time works best for you, but I know your schedule’s been cleared for the foreseeable future. Two o’clock feels right.”
“Fine.”
“And feel free to bring a few of your guys if you want. At the very least, we won’t look like two rogues moving in to deal with personal issues. Make sure they’re agents you trust who wanna pull this asshole out by the roots as much as we do.”
Rhynehart snorted into the phone and let out a long, slow sigh. “For something like this, Cheyenne, the only agents I trust are the ones you trust. I’ll pull the team who went into Operation Free Lizard with us.”
“That’s cute. Did you make that up just now?”
“Discretion, halfling. That’s what I’m going for over the phone. See you tomorrow.”
“Yep.”
“Jesus fucking—” The line went dead before Rhynehart could finish cursing in surprise.
Cheyenne finally let herself chuckle and spun her chair back to her desk and monitor. He’s gonna owe me big time after this. And now he can’t use the chain of command as an excuse not to pay up.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cheyenne powered down her computer and stood from the desk chair. Her hip flared with renewed pain, and she sucked in a sharp breath before peeling down the waistband of her pants to take a look.
“Fuck.”
“Most of the time, I can tell the difference between a good ‘fuck’ and a bad ‘fuck,’” Ember called from the couch. “That one’s taking up a gray area.”
“Not a good ‘fuck,’ Em.” Gritting her teeth, Cheyenne gingerly covered the dart wound in her hip and took a peek at her shoulder next. “Yeah, not even remotely.”
Ember paused her TV show and floated off the couch. “What happened?”
“They’re getting worse.” Cheyenne let go of her shirt and trudged down the stairs to the living room.
“Still have that canister?”
“Yeah. I was hoping not to have to use it again right now.”
“In your coat?”
“Yep.”
Ember grabbed her friend’s trenchcoat off the armrest of the couch and jerked the fabric all over the place, trying to find the pockets. She reached into one, then the other, and pulled out the long silver injection canister. By the time Cheyenne reached her, the fae pointed at her friend with the canister and raised an eyebrow. “Let me see.”
“Or we could use it first and examine wounds later.”
“You know, despite how awesome it is that you managed to bring this across with you, no. I want to see what those holes look like first.”
Cheyenne snorted, rolled her eyes, and pulled down the other side of her shirt collar this time.
Ember grimaced. “Shit.”
“Oh, yeah. Very reassuring. Thanks, Healer.”
“Please. You wouldn’t want me lying to you about something like that.”
“No, but you could try improving your bedside manner.” They looked at each other and laughed. “Okay, Em. Just get it over with.”
“Yep.” Ember floated around her friend, lifted the back of Cheyenne’s shirt, and pressed the injection canister against the halfling’s flesh.
Cheyenne grimaced and cocked her head in discomfort when the darktongue serum flooded her system with a low hiss from the canister. “Feels about as great as the first time.”
“Well, it isn’t the worst-feeling thing that’s happened to you. I didn’t slam a potion into your chest, either.”
“True.” The halfling blinked slowly, the warm blanket of drow-effective painkiller doing its job as quickly and efficiently as ever. “I gotta say, there are certain parts I’m growing fond of.”
Ember handed over the canister, then turned and lowered herself onto the couch again. “Keep an eye on those, okay? If they keep getting worse even with the darktongue serum, we’re not gon
na be able to stay over here much longer.”
“Why?” Cheyenne tossed the canister, caught it, and sank down into the black leather recliner. “Because Venga’s the only…whew. This stuff is strong today.”
“Or you’ve been gritting your teeth and bearing the pain longer than you realized.” Ember folded her arms and watched her friend as the darktongue euphoria settled in. “And no. I’m not saying we’ll have to make the crossing again because Venga’s the only one who can help you. So far, he seems to be the only one who’s made things worse for you.”
“Oh, really?” Cheyenne’s head bobbed a little when she shot Ember a crooked smile. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Ember ignored the dazed comment. “But he is the only one who knows as much as he does about the blight. And about what might get that poison out of you.”
Cheyenne thumped her elbow down onto the armrest and propped her chin up on a fist. “Don’t you mean the Undoing?”
“I feel like we should finish this conversation when you’re not high.”
“I’m not high.” The halfling grinned and rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’m high. Give it two more minutes, Em. Then it’ll float away.”
“As long as you don’t float away with it.”
Cheyenne leaned her head back and closed her eyes, blowing out a long breath and puffing out her cheeks. I won’t float away, not that I mind the way this feels every once in a while. Which is why I need to stop needing this.
When she opened her eyes again, the room wasn’t spinning nearly as much. Ember came back into focus, her eyebrow lifting when Cheyenne’s gaze settled on her friend’s face.
“Better?”
“Yeah.” Cheyenne blinked, sat up straighter in the chair, and cleared her throat. “Yep. Awkward buzz heading out right now. And the pain went with it.”
“What about the black streaks?”
Cheyenne checked both shoulders and shrugged. “Maybe slightly less. Really, though, it’s all starting to look the same. Just fucked up.”
Ember sighed and swiped the loose hair away from her face. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to find what we need to heal you Earthside. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I can’t afford to spend a whole lot of time hanging out in Hangivol and hoping Venga or anyone else stumbles across the solution.” Cheyenne tapped the injection canister against her thigh, then paused. “But I could make quick trips and bring everything back with me.”
“Like what?”
“Literally anything.” The halfling raised the canister and pointed it at Ember. “First the activator, now this. I mean, we already know it’s the tech that doesn’t make it across the Border. Unless it’s on me, apparently. If we have to go back for another trial run with shitty necromancer potions that may or may not make this poison even worse, I can bring it all back here.”
Ember’s eyes narrowed. “That’s kind of a risk, isn’t it? Bringing over that much magic at one time? I mean, if anyone finds out what you’re doing, I wouldn’t be surprised if magicals started talking about Cheyenne Summerlin as the new dark-magic mule carrying heavy-duty necromancer shit across the Border.”
“Who’s gonna know?” Cheyenne spread her arms. “If we don’t advertise it, nobody will. It’s a way bigger risk to take all the time we need on the other side when Bianca still can’t stand for longer than twenty minutes at a time and keeps getting burned with new O’gúl runes.”
“You won’t be able to help her if your own personal blight strain takes you down first.”
“Come on, Em. I can do both. It’ll take some thinking outside the box.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah, you don’t look all that convinced.”
“Well, I’m not.” Ember leaned back and slung an arm over the couch’s armrest. “But I guess I’ll have to watch and wait for you to prove me wrong.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Cheyenne took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair. “We have to be careful with how we move forward. It’s one step at a time. First, we take down Colonel Thomas and get the Bull’s Head out of the way. No more war machines. No more idiots who don’t even know Ba’rael’s gone coming after me. Then I meet up with the bane-breaker.”
“Bane-breaker?”
“Yeah. Apparently, that’s what he’s called. The Inolu guy Lee referred me to.”
“Huh. Okay, so he’s next.”
“Hey, if we wrap up this whole FRoE-traitor thing fast enough, I might even be able to call the guy tomorrow night. If not, then at least Tuesday. See where that leads me in getting the rest of this curse away from Bianca, and then we can head back to Ambar’ogúl and help Venga or whoever figure out what the hell has to happen to heal me and the blight.”
“Hmm.” Ember licked her lips in hesitation, opened her mouth, then frowned at the coffee table. “I’m gonna put it out there.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If your mom has more to do with this than you think.”
“She doesn’t.” Cheyenne shook her head. “Sorry, Em. I can’t even entertain that thought.”
“Really? It doesn’t feel remotely possible to you?”
“I don’t care what it feels like. I’m not gonna let it happen. Bianca Summerlin stays out of this. Bottom line.”
Ember stared at her friend for a moment, then shrugged. “You know, you’re getting a lot better at hiding your ‘pissed and stupid’ habit.”
Cheyenne snorted.
“But I can still tell you’re pissed, and that’s keeping you from seeing this a different way.”
“I don’t wanna see it a different way.”
“Isn’t that kind of your job?”
“Nope.” Cheyenne dropped the injection canister into her lap and slumped back against the recliner. “My job is to keep my mom safe. Take down the colonel. Heal the blight. And then take on whatever I’m supposed to take on with this whole drow-royalty-on-Earth thing. Which I think might be easier than I thought.”
Ember said, “Do go on.”
“No, I’m serious. I mean, I’ll have to test it out with a few different things. See how much I can bring back with me. But when I find out what the limits are, I could bring O’gúl tech over here and start handing it over to magicals on this side who could seriously benefit from it.”
“With one minor issue, though.” Ember stuck a finger in the air. “You’re the only one who can bring advanced tech through the crossing, yeah. You’re also the only magical who can use it on this side.”
“Right.” Cheyenne rubbed her chin and glanced at the ceiling in mock-contemplation. “But didn’t we see crates upon crates of old-school tech smuggled across the Border and used to build war machines?”
“A bunch of metal chips and the activator coil Elarit built you are not the same thing.”
“Clearly.” Meeting her friend’s gaze again, Cheyenne grinned. “But, and correct me if I’m wrong, I’m pretty sure we know someone who’s figured out how to power O’gúl tech with human systems.”
Ember’s eyes widened, and she blinked. “No.”
“Why the hell not?” the halfling asked. “If our dazed-and-confused neighbor wants to redeem himself, the only answer he’ll have when I ask him to do this is, ‘Fuck yeah, Cheyenne. I’ll make you whatever you want. Thanks for not tearing me limb from limb.’”
The fae burst out laughing. “It’s gonna be hard to get those exact words out of him on the first go.”
“Eh, it’s the intention behind it that counts.”
“You seriously want to pull him into building programs for O’gúl tech again? How is that any better than what his uncle and the Bull’s Head did?”
“Because Matthew Thomas and Combined Reality, Inc. won’t be writing programs for war machines meant to seek and destroy and pave the way for a drow dictator’s inter-world war. Obviously.”
“So, what? You’re gonna hand out activators to any magical who feels like they want one?” Ember leaned forward when the l
ightbulb of inspiration struck. “Holy shit. You could make a fortune on that.”
“Right, like that’s at the top of my list. It’s not even on my list.” With a surprised laugh, Cheyenne shook her head. “And that’s not the point. If I’m gonna take this whole Earthside royalty thing seriously, and I don’t even wanna think about all the things that could go wrong if I don’t, it’s not about money.”
“Well, yeah. I know. I was just saying.”
“Yeah, someone could make a fortune doing this. I’m the only one who can, so I won’t be charging refugees for the one thing that can help their entire lives over here be less of a shitstorm and more like living. At least at first.”
“Okay.” Ember frowned. “Walk me through it, though. ‘Cause all I’m seeing right now is like a popup lemonade stand on a Border rez with you sitting behind a cardboard sign that reads, ‘Free activator. Don’t be dumb, just take one.’”
Cheyenne gave her friend a deadpan stare, then they both cracked up. “I wanna ask how that’s the first thing you come up with, but something tells me hopping into your head would be scarier than making the crossing on a bad day.”
“Ooh. Ouch.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m serious, though. How would you even do that with a bunch of activators fresh from Hangivol and pumped up with Matthew’s program? Assuming he agrees to do it for you in this hypothetical situation.”
“I don’t think it’s that hypothetical, Em. And he’ll agree.” Cheyenne grabbed the handle on the side of the recliner and jerked it up to lie almost flat on her back in the chair. Then she folded both arms behind her head and studied the high ceiling of their apartment. “Funny. Now that I look at it, it’s almost like all the pieces were written down beforehand.”
“Oh, okay. Like a prophecy?”
The halfling scoffed. “Like this was all meant to play out this way. We take down Colonel Thomas and lay out everything he’s been doing for the last five years right there for everyone to see, and I’m not just wiping out the rest of the Bull’s Head and a high-ranking dude getting his hands dirty. The entire FRoE is gonna owe me one after that big time, and what better way to turn in those chips than by rewriting the way they operate on the reservations?”