by Martha Carr
The orc shimmered on the rug and faded quickly. Cheyenne had just enough time to grab him with both hands by the shirt before he disappeared.
His weight was definitely still all there. As she pulled and tugged him, Yadje pointed at the halfling. “Oh, one more thing.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cheyenne sighed and let the orc drop to the floor again. Her grip on his shirt pulled her down until she stood in front of the door, hunched over, seemingly grabbing nothing in both fists. I really don’t have time for some kind of troll appreciation ceremony.
Yadje swiftly closed a drawer in the kitchen and hurried toward the half-drow. “Illusion charm. For you.”
“Right. Uh, thanks.”
“It was my sister’s. She…she refused to keep it on in the end, and, well, now it belongs to me.” The troll held up a thick copper armband with inlaid designs of silver and gold on the surface. She pried it open and settled it around the center of Cheyenne’s upper arm, then stepped back. “Ah. Yes, that works well.”
Cheyenne glanced at the armband and saw her normal, pale-white human skin beneath it, even though she was still in full drow mode.
“Cool.” She nodded at Yadje and lifted the orc’s body off the ground again. “Mind if I bring it back later tonight? I kinda have to be somewhere after this.”
“Oh, keep it as long as you like. We’ve set it aside for Bryl when she is of age to decide for herself. As long as it is returned in the next few years…” Yadje shrugged, and her husband let out a low chuckle.
“Got it.” Cheyenne glanced behind her at the door, trying to figure out how she was supposed to keep a tight grip on the invisible orc and get herself out into the hallway at the same time.
“Oh, yes. Please, allow me.” R’mahr leapt forward, and his wife stepped quickly aside so he could open the door and let their new friend out of their apartment.
“All right. Thanks.” Cheyenne nodded at the family and glanced into the hall before dragging the few hundred pounds of invisible orc with her. “Have a nice day, and, yeah.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Cheyenne.”
“Our favorite neighbor.”
The troll child sidled up beside her parents to peer through the doorway. “You’re going to bury him alive, right?”
The halfling paused, glanced at R’mahr and Yadje, and blinked. Neither of them looked remotely apologetic for what their child had just asked.
“Uh…” A surprised chuckle escaped her. “That wasn’t part of the plan, no. Good thinking. I’ll figure something out.”
“The drow knows what she’s doing, Bryl.” Yadje put an arm around her daughter again and turned into the apartment. “Come inside. Are you hungry?”
R’mahr lifted a hand toward Cheyenne in farewell, his head bobbing eagerly again, then closed the door.
“Okay.” Cheyenne shook her head and tugged the invisible orc behind her down the hall. “That was weird.”
She made it all the way to the top of the staircase before running into any of the other residents of the building. A woman with short, curly hair carrying her dry cleaning over one shoulder passed the halfling in the stairwell. Cheyenne gave the woman a brief nod and just kept walking down, the thump and slide of the orc’s invisible body behind her echoing. The woman gazed around, looking for the source of the sound, and frowned at Cheyenne.
“New shoes.” The halfling raised her eyebrows and nodded at her black Vans. “Gotta break ‘em in, you know?”
The woman scowled and hurried up the stairs, shrieking a little when an invisible orc body part thumped against her ankle. Then she scurried up to the third floor and burst through the door.
Cheyenne puffed out a sigh. Always a weird look for the Goth chick.
She got the orc all the way out into the parking lot and somehow managed to lift a beefy, muscular body she couldn’t see into the back seat of her beat-up Ford Focus. It took several tries to get the door closed all the way, seeing as she kept smashing some invisible body part in the process, but finally, he was in. Then she slipped behind the wheel, tossed her backpack onto the passenger seat, and stuck her keys in the ignition. She sniffed once and scowled at the orc’s rank body odor. Why does it have to be my ride?
Now she just had to figure out where to dump him and fast. Her first class started in forty minutes.
Chapter Ten
The city landfill seemed like as good a place as any to ditch an unconscious orc. Cheyenne had left her car out here the night she’d gone into the event center looking for Durg and ended up crashing a huge FRoE sting operation.
Getting the orc out of the back seat was a little easier, at least after she got a good grip on his shirt again after fumbling around his face. He thumped out onto the asphalt, and she dragged him back toward the landfill gates, which were open for normal working hours on a Friday. Piles of stacked boxes crunched beneath the unseen weight when she tossed the orc inside, then she dusted off her hands and took another look around.
Something scurried through a pile of garbage, then a three-foot-tall man in a bright-orange tracksuit with a matching orange beard and rust-red skin stumbled out from between two stacks of old tires. He blinked at Cheyenne as if he’d broken into her house, then glanced urgently around for a place to hide.
“It’s okay. If you don’t have an illusion spell, we’re still cool.” The halfling patted the armband, grateful for the gift from a troll family on the verge of worshipping her. “This one’s just on loan. Gotta get my own one of these.”
Her new red friend nodded quickly, then scanned the entrance to the landfill and noticed the unconscious orc, who was now shimmering back into visibility on the pile of boxes. “Taking out the magical trash, huh?” he squeaked.
“Yeah, recycling wouldn’t take him.”
The next car shooting down the frontage road made the orange-bearded man freeze. He darted into the piles of trash again, snatching an old broken toaster and taking it with him. The frayed cord whipped along the ground behind him before disappearing into the shadows.
When she got back to her car, it was already 8:11. Hissing out a sigh, the halfling started her car and drove it another block down the freeway, just so the orc wouldn’t see it when he woke up in the landfill. Then she got out with her backpack, locked the car this time, and pulled out her phone. Her stomach let out another morning growl, and she slapped it. Later.
With a groan, she tucked both her phone and her keys into the pockets of her black pants, shook out her hands with a jingle of the chains around her wrists, and stretched her neck from side to side. Guess there’s a first time for everything. Like running to school.
She took off in a flash down the freeway, followed by a loud crack and loose trash trailing after her. It wasn’t that long a run, but the halfling wasn’t in the best shape, especially after her injuries yesterday and the impromptu ass-kicking in her neighbors’ apartment. Still, she only had to stop once between the landfill and the VCU campus to catch her breath, and then she was off again.
Running at near-supersonic speeds got a little trickier on campus, with thousands of college students milling around, trying to get to their classes on time. She slowed down just around the corner from the entrance to the Computer Sciences building, hoping she’d timed it right and there wasn’t anyone close enough to freak out when a Goth chick with a weird armband suddenly materialized out of nowhere.
Fortunately, she was alone on that side of the building. Unfortunately, the sound of her dropping back into normal speeds didn’t go nearly as unnoticed. A harsh crack echoed between the buildings and sent a shockwave of dirt, leaves, and gusting air out onto the walkway. A few students got caught by the force of it and stumbled sideways, blown off course. Someone screamed. Other people shouted in surprise, and Cheyenne’s enhanced hearing picked up on a muttered squeak: “Attack.”
Whoops. Probably could’ve thought that one through a little better.
She stepped out from around the side of the building and hurried qu
ickly toward the front doors, ignoring the chaos and panic as other students shouted at each other and scattered away from her. None of them knew what the crack and the shockwave had really come from, and Cheyenne didn’t have the time to try calming them down.
Clearing her throat, she jerked the door and slipped inside, hurrying the rest of the way to her first class. When she got there, the clock hanging over the desk at the back of the room said it was 8:29 a.m.
The rest of the students in her Advanced Social Network Analysis and Security class were already in their seats, laptops and notebooks out in front of them. The halfling went right to her self-designated place on the far left side of the elevated rows of seats and slipped into the chair on the end.
Professor Hersh glanced up at her from the stack of papers he was shuffling around on the desk. His thick jowls wiggled a little as he glared at her. “Good to see you figured out how to show up on time. Though you might wanna pick up a hairbrush. Looks like you fell out of the sky on your way here.”
He’s just jealous that I have hair.
The halfling just raised her eyebrows at him, folded her arms, and sank into her regular position for bearing through another obnoxiously boring class. Hersh liked to hear himself talk more than any of them, so she was clear to zone out.
“I expect no more interruptions once we start,” Hersh added, having to get the last word in even though Cheyenne hadn’t said a thing.
She gritted her teeth and flexed her hand beneath her folded arms. A few purple sparks flared at her fingertips, which she immediately snuffed out. With a deep breath, she forced her drow magic to settle back down in the base of her spine. It didn’t feel nearly as satisfying as spending over an hour with her magical side up and running, but she didn’t come to class to fight anybody with sparks.
The illusion armband came off easily enough, and she stuck it into the outside pocket of her backpack beside the FRoE burner phone, which she’d remembered to put on silent this time. Sir had said he wouldn’t call her until later tonight, but she wasn’t about to trust anything he told her. Not that she had before she found out about the tracking device.
Running a hand through her now-black hair, the halfling tuned out the droning monotony of Hersh’s voice and resigned herself to another agonizing day of listening to a bunch of computer science crap she’d learned years ago. Gotta get legit credentials somehow.
The only other marginally interesting part of her day was right before her second class started. A small group of students was gathered out in the hall, speculating in low voices about the half-assed attack on campus earlier that morning. Cheyenne picked up on all the speculation without trying—“terrorist attack” and “gunshot” and “bomb” were tossed around. She just shoved her hands in her pockets, trying to ignore the burning ache that had returned to her shoulder, apparently to stay.
Once all her classes were over at two and she’d gone through the obligatory motions of barely pretending to care, the halfling took off across campus again. Her teeth ground together as she took the exact same route for the second time today. This back and forth is getting old way too fast.
But while she carted herself and her backpack across the grounds one more time, she might as well stop in on Mattie Bergmann’s office hours and check about that name. Her professor hadn’t sent her an email yet with the name of that Raug who might know about the drow puzzle box. Cheyenne figured she’d check in and give the Nightstalker posing as a college professor a nudge in the right direction.
Mattie’s door was open as usual, and the woman was pretty deep in her work, grading papers or planning lessons or whatever she did during office hours when she wasn’t trying to train her first half-drow.
Cheyenne knocked on the door and stepped inside. The professor’s head jerked up, and she let out a surprised laugh. “Just when I stopped expecting you to show up, you’re back. What can I—oh. What time is it?”
“Little after two, I think.”
“That’s right. I knew I forgot something.” The woman peeled a sticky note off the top of the stack and scribbled furiously.
“I hope that doesn’t include the name of that Raug you were gonna pull up for me.”
“Well, yeah, actually.” Mattie waved her off and kept writing. “I got in touch with the guy and completely forgot to email you about it.”
“Hey, no big deal. It’s not like I wanted to talk to him for anything important.”
Mattie finished writing, glanced up at her student, and smirked. “I hear the sarcasm, Cheyenne. It’s not misplaced, but I promise I wasn’t trying to avoid you. This time.”
At least she admits it. The halfling approached Mattie’s desk, readjusting her grip on the strap of her backpack over her good shoulder.
The professor’s pen toppled onto the desk, and Mattie pushed herself to her feet before peeling the sticky note off another piece of paper. “Here you go. The Raug Oracle Gúrdu.”
Cheyenne took the sticky note and squinted to make out Mattie’s handwriting. “This is an address.”
“Good job. Oddly enough, Gúrdu apparently doesn’t want phone calls, emails, handwritten letters, magical summonings, or any other form of communication from magicals he hasn’t met first. So the first meeting has to be face to face.”
“And he can tell me more about the drow box?”
Mattie’s lips twitched to the side of her mouth, and she tilted her head from side to side. “Maybe. I wasn’t about to spill all your secrets over the phone, kid. But for as long as I’ve known him, Gúrdu has had answers for everything. Most of them are completely convoluted and require a massive amount of caffeine and uninterrupted focus to even begin to comprehend. In my experience.”
“Oh, great.” The halfling folded the sticky note and stuffed it into her pocket. “So I’m going to a magical I’ve never met to listen to a bunch of riddles.”
“If you’re lucky. If he’s even willing to talk once he gets a good look at you.”
“What?” Cheyenne leaned away from her professor and scowled.
“What? Oh. No. I’m not talking about your face.”
“Good to know that’s the first assumption you made.”
Mattie scoffed. “It has nothing to do with the way you look, Cheyenne. I’m sorry. That came out wrong. You could show up covered in week-old spaghetti and smelling like a fishery, and that wouldn’t make a difference to this guy.”
The halfling snorted. “Gross.”
“Just an example. Gúrdu sees through the extra layers of whatever we want the rest of the world to see. So he’ll either agree to talk to you, or he’ll send you on your way. I put in a good recommendation for you, and hopefully that’s worth something.” Mattie bumped her fist playfully against the halfling’s shoulder and drew back immediately when Cheyenne sucked in a hiss.
“Wrong shoulder.”
“Oh, wow. I didn’t even— You covered that pretty well today.” The professor studied the barely noticeable outline of the new gauze bandage beneath Cheyenne’s black London After Midnight shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves. “You get that looked at yet?”
“Had a doctor in there yesterday, yeah.” Grimacing, the halfling rubbed gently below her shoulder and forced herself to leave the damn thing alone. “I had something stuck in there, he took it out, and apparently that made things worse.”
“Huh.” Mattie tapped her fingers on her lips, then her green eyes darted around her office. She shook a finger and turned back toward her desk. “You know, I might have something that could help with that. Maybe.”
Cheyenne let out a dry chuckle. “You keep a hidden stash of Percocet in your desk to deal with the really annoying students, huh?”
“Ha!” Mattie glanced back up at her and grinned. “Nice try. But no. That’s not what you’re looking for, is it?”
“Wouldn’t work on me anyway.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me.” The woman opened drawers, rummaged around, and closed them again. “Damn.
I forgot to bring it back in once the semester started. I’ve got a…a collection of really great recipes for salves, some healing potions, and painkillers. Not sure how much of it will be useful to you.”
“Lemme guess. Nothing’s been tested on a drow halfling, huh?”
“You’re catching on, kid. But it’s worth a shot, right? You don’t want those holes in your shoulder to get any worse.”
“Nope.” Cheyenne clenched her right hand into a fist and breathed through her throbbing shoulder. “Kinda slows me down.”
Mattie looked quickly back at her student and blinked. “That’s borderline more than I want to hear. You know what? I’ll put together copies of what I have over the weekend for you. You can pick ‘em up on Monday when you stop by. If you want to stop by.”
“Yeah. That sounds good.”
“Excellent.” The professor snorted and shrugged. “Never thought I’d have much of a use Earthside for those stolen recipes—”
She blinked at the ceiling, realizing what she’d let slip.
“Stolen, huh?” Cheyenne gripped the backpack strap with both hands now. “Is that why you crossed the Border to live off the radar in Richmond?”
“Oh, hardly.” Mattie rolled her eyes. “And we’re not getting into that. But come in for office hours on Monday, and I’ll have something for you.”
“Okay. What about illusion spells?”
Tilting her head, the professor pursed her lips and studied the halfling. “What about them?”
“I just saw some things this morning that might be useful for me to know. Potions, I guess. An illusion spell. This one actually was a piece of jewelry, like you mentioned a while ago.”
Mattie stuck her hands on her hips and nodded. Her smile widened as she looked the halfling up and down. “You want to break into the learned magic, don’t you?”
“If that’s what all that is, then yeah. I guess. Can’t hurt, right?”