Realm of Infinite Night (Goth Drow Unleashed Book 3)

by Martha Carr

  “So all that hunting for clues—”

  “Was just to bring you here in person. Don’t tell me you would’ve jumped up out of your desk chair if gu@rdi@n104 had invited you out for a one-on-one over lunch.”

  No. She wouldn’t have.

  Corian nodded and scratched his chin. “I know you wanna get that orc, and you made it this far, so I’ll keep my promise. You’ll have everything you need by the time you get home. When you’re finished, come back here with that copper box, and I’ll show you what it’s for.”

  “You just wasted two hours of my day tracking down some really awful clues with nothing to show for it. Why would I come back here with the box?” A humorless huff of a laugh escaped the halfling. “Why would I come back here at all?”

  “Because you can’t find anyone else willing to so much as touch the thing. Because I’m a lot more than willing, and because I’ve been around enough legacy cycles to show you the way yours works.” Corian spread his arms and lifted his chin with a smirk. “Guess you’ll just have to trust me, huh?”

  “Right. You know, somehow I’m not convinced.” Scoffing, Cheyenne flung her hand toward the card table and headed for the door again. “Enjoy your sandwich.”

  The door opened easily enough, and the Nightstalker who claimed to know her drow father didn’t try to stop her. Smart move, stalker.

  The dry leaves crunched under her feet as she stomped up the stained concrete stairs, feeling the heat flaring at the base of her spine. She pushed it back down and headed down the sidewalk toward her car. It was completely dark outside now, the two streetlamps on either side of the open space across the street casting pools of dirty yellow light across the asphalt.

  She was so focused on trying to work out in her head how Corian could have anything to do with her dad, let alone know how the puzzle box worked when he wasn’t even a drow that she didn’t hear the cars pull up to the curb on the other side of the street. The halfling barely registered the sound of multiple car doors closing, and she didn’t look up until she heard low chuckles and a menacing growl.

  Still a short distance from her car, she spared a glance across the street and saw a dozen magicals headed toward her. The orc in the lead looked remarkably familiar, which surprised her until she recognized that bent tusk—the one she’d almost uprooted from his fat jaw with her right hook.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The orc saw her recognize him, and he grinned. The darkness around him glowed from the ball of green fire he’d conjured in his meaty hand. One of the trolls stalking across the street behind him let out a playful whoop, and the goblins snickered.

  How did these assholes find me?

  That was all the time she had before she let the heat of her drow magic burst from the base of her spine and wash over her. The Goth girl on the sidewalk switched into the drow halfling, who would be all but invisible in the darkness if it weren’t for her bone-white hair.

  Sneering, the orc tossed the fireball at her, and she ducked. She started to run for her car before realizing how much damage the thing would take in a match between her and a dozen pissed-off magicals, so she darted in the other direction instead. The lashing black tendrils erupted from both hands and writhed across the street. A few of them wrapped around the orc’s wrist and jerked it aside, which sent his next green fireball into the air. It barely missed crashing into the roof of the next apartment house, and Cheyenne tried again.

  She sent the other tendrils whipping across the asphalt. They took the lead orc by the ankle and flung him and the troll behind him back into the group of thugs. Then her attackers scattered up and down the street, conjuring shards of electric-blue and churning spheres of orange energy and more bursts of green and purple fire.

  Cheyenne took it all in. These are not the kind of odds I’m used to.

  She dodged a crackling, hissing pillar of blue energy and threw one of her black spheres into the fray, followed by another, and then another as she darted this way and that to avoid all the spells casting their deadly light on the asphalt.

  One of the goblins doubled back around her car and launched thick shards of what looked like bright-purple glass at her. The halfling felt the searing chill of them before they touched her, and she tossed aside the second troll caught in her tendrils before everything slowed around her. Her enhanced speed gave her enough time to dart away from the icy shards that would have pierced her body the next second.

  A jolt of searing heat caught her in the back of her knee, and she cried out. The dark street swarming with magicals returned to normal speed as Cheyenne’s leg buckled beneath her. Orange lines of energy sparked down her calf and up her thigh, numbing her leg until she thought she wouldn’t be able to put any weight on it.

  “Can’t hide now, mór úcare,” one of the magicals screamed, and another round of laughter issued up from the thugs closing in on every side. “Your secret’s out.”

  “We know who you are!” The snarl came from Cheyenne’s right and slightly behind her, and she whirled that way as well as she could on her deadened leg to throw a black orb of drow energy in that direction. Someone cackled. She couldn’t focus on all of them at once. “And the Crown’s next cycle stops here. Right after we stop you.”

  Two purple balls of flame hurtled toward her from the left, and the halfling staggered back to avoid them before sending her own black and purple spheres right back. Dirt and grass erupted in a spray somewhere behind her, and another troll rushed her head-on. He got close enough to get a face full of her lashing black tendrils whipping across his cheeks and tearing his flesh. They coiled around his neck, and Cheyenne got a glimpse of the thick silver chain around that neck before it disappeared under the troll’s black t-shirt. She was willing to bet one of those bull pendants dangled at the end of it.

  She slammed the strangled troll into the grass face-first and took another step back. Footsteps pounded across concrete somewhere behind her, echoing too much for the open lawn between the rental houses. The halfling wanted to turn around and see who it was, but the orc with the loosened tusk was coming up fast on her right.

  “My turn.” He swung a huge fist at Cheyenne’s face, and she lifted her forearm to block the punch. Her wounded shoulder screamed as their arms collided, then she grabbed the orc’s wrist with both hands and conjured her purple sparks right into his flesh.

  Bellowing, the orc wrenched his wrist from her grip and shoved her away. Normally, it wouldn’t have done much but make her step back, but he’d slammed his hand into her damaged shoulder. That and her still-numb leg sent her crashing to her knees with a furious cry.

  Wiping the spit from his swollen mouth and that wobbly tusk, the orc laughed and stomped toward her.

  Then the dark street lit up with a flash of blinding white light. Daggers of silver energy like lightning hit the ground and raced across the grass in a dozen directions. A shrill cry rose from one of the trolls, then the two goblins beside him, and the entire gang of magicals coming after the drow halfling let out wails and shrieks of pain.

  The orc stopped a foot away from Cheyenne, growing rigid as the white streaks hit his boots and raced up his legs, crackling along his body. He let out a bellow of rage and pain but couldn’t move an inch while the attack flared through him. A body dropped somewhere behind her.

  The orc’s eyes widened as the blazing white current fizzled away from his body. “What the—”

  He didn’t get to finish the question. A dark blur raced past him. It didn’t stop long enough to engage before hurtling by, but the orc’s right arm erupted in a spray of dark blood and the tattered shreds of his black jacket. The orc screamed and clamped a hand over his frayed bicep, doubling over and completely forgetting about the panting half-drow and her numb leg in front of him.

  Cheyenne forced herself to move through the pain and scrambled across the grass, her eyes darting across the street toward the other side of her car. What is that?

  The dark blur barreled down the str
eet before another brilliant white flash of light erupted on a troll’s chest. He choked and dropped. The goblin beside him flung a hissing streak of purple energy at where his thug friend had stood. It whistled through the air, and the troll’s open mouth crashed shut with a crunch before his spell hit a tree in the open space. Whatever force had slammed his jaw shut and lifted him half a foot off the ground now thumped him back down onto the pavement with a sickening smack. The dark blur kept moving.

  Magicals shrieked and screamed and fell silent again all around Cheyenne as they lit up with white light or were thrown aside like bowling pins. The dark streak made one more circle around the street and the halfling’s car before finally stopping. There stood Corian, his Nightstalker form revealed.

  He let out a quick sigh and scanned the street again, which was silent now but for a groan or two coming from the fallen magical thugs scattered around them. Cheyenne might have seen the goblin pushing himself up on one knee before Corian did, but it hardly mattered. The Nightstalker whirled and raced toward the goblin. A flash of something not entirely silver streaked through the air before the goblin froze where he knelt. He choked, his eyes wide and unseeing, as a spray of dark blood erupted from his slit throat. The body hit the grass with a thump, and Corian stood there looking down at him.

  The Nightstalker hissed, then turned slowly toward Cheyenne. The five inches of dazzling razor-sharp claws—or blades—at the tips of his fingers drew back into his hand with a sickening whisper. After glancing over his shoulder one last time, Corian stalked toward the drow halfling propping herself up with her hands behind her in the grass. She couldn’t find a single thing to say.

  Apparently, the same loss for words hadn’t hit him. “Not quite ready for this kinda showdown, are you?”

  The halfling glanced at the magical bodies scattered across the grass and the sidewalk and the glistening asphalt under the streetlights. When she looked back up at him, Corian had extended a hand to help her up. She took it, grimacing at the extra ache even that much pressure brought to her shoulder, but at least the feeling was coming back to her leg. It was like pins and needles on steroids.

  Corian grabbed her wrist with his other hand too when she swayed on her feet. The concern in his glowing silver eyes was unmistakable when he scanned her, then he released her and nodded. “You good?”

  “I’m…yeah. I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t help but study the devastation the Nightstalker had wrought on a dozen magicals in about thirty seconds. “What was that?”

  “That was what happens when someone as powerful as they’re supposed to be knows what they’re doing.” His silver eyes bored into hers, and there wasn’t a hint of a smile on that feline face this time. “I’ll take care of these idiots. You should go home. Get some rest. Maybe walk off that bum leg until it starts following orders again. Then come back with that box, Cheyenne, and I’ll show you how to do what you can’t yet.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Nodding slowly, still not sure what had happened, the halfling limped slowly toward her car. When she opened the driver’s door, she stopped and looked over the hood at Corian again. “Thanks. For coming out here when you did.”

  A short huff escaped through his nose, and he nodded as he scanned his body-littered front yard. “It’s my job.”

  Cheyenne ducked and slid into the driver’s seat, grimacing at the pain of…well, pretty much everything at that point. She started the engine, got a quarter of the way through buckling her seatbelt before giving up, and took off slowly down the street.

  The Nightstalker who knows my dad just demolished a magical gang and told me to get some rest. She puffed out a sigh and shook her head, blinking heavily under the streetlights racing past on her way back downtown. If I’m gonna take anyone’s advice, I guess it should be his.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It took her ten minutes to climb the stairs to her second-floor apartment. Everything still hurt, and she was too exhausted to pretend she didn’t care. When she reached the second-floor landing and pushed the door open into the hall, she wondered how long it would take her to walk past the five other apartments on either side to get to hers.

  Although she could feel her right leg and her foot again, it still didn’t want to listen. The hall filled with the slow thump and drag of the halfling half-limping, half-pulling herself across the stained old carpet. Halfway down, a door on her right opened quickly, and R’mahr stuck his head out into the hall.

  “Cheyenne. Hello.”

  The most she could give him was a grunt and a hand lifted in a weak wave. If I look away from my front door, I’m not gonna make it.

  “Are you busy tomorrow evening?” The troll standing cheerily in his doorway grinned at her as she approached, leaning forward between his hands clutching either side of the doorframe. “We’d love to have you in our home for a meal. I’m…well, I’m sure you have plenty of obligations, but if tomorrow would suit you to—oh. Uh, are you all right?”

  The halfling just gave him another grunt, weaker this time, and shuffled past him down the hall.

  “Cheyenne?”

  “What is it?” Yadje asked from inside the trolls’ apartment. “R’mahr, what did you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything. She’s just… She looks hurt.”

  “What do you mean, hurt?”

  “I mean hurt, woman. What else could that mean?”

  Cheyenne didn’t have to turn around to know Yadje had joined her husband in the doorway and poked her head out alongside his to stare at the drow halfling moving at a snail’s pace.

  “Oh, for the love of— Leave her alone, will you?”

  “She might need help.”

  “R’mahr, if she needs help, she’ll ask for it.” The troll woman’s voice carried down the hall. “Cheyenne, if you need anything, please ask. We’re right here.”

  The halfling’s strength gave out again and she staggered sideways. She slapped her hand against the wall and steadied herself. Her head dropped toward her chest and she sighed, taking a moment to get some strength back before she limped toward her apartment again.

  “I don’t think she’ll ask—”

  “Of course, she will. Now stop bothering her and come help me with the—”

  The troll family’s front door clicked shut, and Cheyenne took two more slow, halting steps before she stood in front of her apartment. Her keys came slowly out of the pocket of her black jacket, and it took a moment before she found the right one and jiggled it into the keyhole.

  She almost fell on her face when the door opened and wouldn’t stay still to take her weight. It was harder than it should have been to yank her keys back out of the door before she pushed it shut again and stumbled out of her black Vans. Then she dragged herself into her tiny living room and dropped into the office chair behind her huge executive desk. The force of her weight sent the whole thing rolling back across the plastic mat, but she didn’t mind.

  It could have been two minutes or twenty that Cheyenne just sat there in the chair, her hands dangling over the armrests, her legs stretched out in front of her. However long it was, it was enough sitting and doing nothing without having to think or focus or move anything that she started to feel better.

  I thought getting shot in the hip was bad, but this is all pain and no gain. Sitting straighter in her chair, the halfling rolled her shoulders gently and stretched her neck from side to side, hissing out a sigh through clenched teeth. Her eyes drooped heavily, her shoulders slumped, and her head dipped slowly toward her chest. Cheyenne sucked in a sharp breath and jerked upright again, slapping herself in the face. “Wake up!”

  That jolted her as much as she needed, and she scooted the office chair back across the mat toward her desk with a bitter chuckle. Her new Nightstalker friend was legit when it came to fighting larger numbers of magicals on his own than Cheyenne had been able to take on. But Corian running around on the dark web as gu@rdi@n104 and claiming he had useful information on Durg was a whole different ba
llpark, and seeing how legit he was with that was more important right now than sleep.

  Shaking her head, she turned on the main monitor and gave Glen time to power up.

  When everything was running and ready to go, she logged back onto the dark web, found her way quickly to the Borderlands forum, and didn’t even have the time to glance at the most recent topic threads before a chat window popped up in the corner of her screen. From gu@rdi@n104, of course.

  gu@rdi@n104: As promised. This’ll help you find him. Don’t let tonight stop you from walking down the other path you’re pursuing. I’ll be waiting.

  There was a file attached to the message, unencrypted and benign, something Cheyenne was apparently supposed to trust because they’d already talked about it in person. She opened the Bunker program anyway and dragged the file in there first to scrub it. If it needed any scrubbing. I’m done taking chances.

  No scrubbing necessary, apparently. The Bunker turned up the results of its scan in five seconds. Zero viruses, no malware, not even so much as a tag on the back end that might feed information back to the source if a user like Cheyenne hadn’t thought to look for it. “Okay. Looks like Corian’s done playing games too. As long as whatever’s in this file looks like the real deal.”

  She pulled it out of the Bunker, logged completely off the dark web to close all her access, and opened the plain text file. The title centered at the top would have made her laugh if she’d had the energy. Durg Br’athol.

  The rest of the text was a lot more interesting.

  ‘Registered pure O-class #19842; cataloged and processed through Rez 7 on March 4th, 2021. Two months in assimilation, no red flags, no delinquent reports. First and only transfer appeal approved. No special incidences, no specific requests for residence and/or employment.’