by Martha Carr
“Do not be afraid of what makes you different, Cheyenne,” he whispered fiercely in her ear, then took a long, deep sniff. A warm buzz of intense magic flowed into her and settled like a blaze in her core. She froze. “That is the only thing that will change the way all this plays out.”
“What?”
Neros released her and stepped back, looking her over again. Then he spread his arms and closed his eyes.
The ground trembled. Pale grass and loose earth erupted between the drow cousins. Cheyenne staggered back as a thick crack split across the valley floor, and a sleek, smooth, glinting obelisk of black stone rose from the hole in the ground. It shot straight into the air, dirt and rocks crumbling away from it.
She stared at the black stone pillar and her mouth fell open. Like a mini-portal ridge. Or the towers at every single Border rez.
When the ground stopped shuddering and the last of the earth fell, the only sound in Nor’ieth was the slow, heavy flap of luré wings and the occasional screech.
Ember’s luminous violet eyes didn’t leave the obelisk. “What just happened?”
Cheyenne’s mouth worked in surprise before she found her voice. “I think that’s a—”
“Friends.” Yilas’ multi-toned voice rang out. “Thank you for joining us in Nor’ieth. We learn much from visitors. It is our hope that others have broadened their awareness in return.”
“Thank you, Yilas.” L’zar spread his arms and kicked up his heel to deliver a low bow over his extended leg to the olforím. “I won’t speak for the others, but this has been my pleasure.”
Cheyenne scowled at her father. He’s so full of shit all the time.
“Zokrí of the Hirúl Breach raugs.” Yilas turned toward Cazerel and his warriors. “You and yours are welcome to stay as long as you wish. For the rest of you, we offer our blessing of good fortune. May the light of the Weave not blind you to the darkness.”
All around the rebel magicals, the olforím joined their leader. Pale, elongated faces offered small, gentle smiles to the travelers. Lightless eyes gazed unblinkingly at Cheyenne, L’zar, and the rest of their startled group. L’zar focused intently on Neros, his mad grin widening.
Lumil stepped toward the nightstalkers with a raised fist but didn’t summon her swirling red runes. “Feels like we’re missing something.”
Corian snorted and muttered, “What else is new?”
Every olforím around them raised both three-fingered hands toward the black stone obelisk in front of Neros. The pale drow didn’t move.
White light burst from the olforím’s hands and struck the column all at once. The light flared and wiped everything else away.
Cheyenne heard someone shout her name before her body was hurled forward. The air burst from her lungs beneath the squeezing pressure of passing through the Border portal her cousin had opened for them in Nor’ieth. She tried to shout, gasping for air that didn’t exist, and hurtled through the crossing.
Dark lines of black smoke flew past her in the in-between. That has to be what this is.
A booming crack like thunder filled her head, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on her side in a forest somewhere, her cheek pressed against cold, dew-studded grass.
Cheyenne gave a raw, shuddering gasp and started coughing uncontrollably. Her lungs burned, and dozens of tiny lights pulsed in her vision. Her head pounded furiously, sending blazing pain radiating down through her neck and shoulders. She gasped again, coughed one more time, and rolled weakly onto her back with a groan.
What just happened?
Her racing pulse and heaving breath echoed in her ears, drowning out any other sounds.
I can’t move.
She stared at the night sky, stars winking at her through the leaves rustling on the branches overhead.
Cheyenne opened her mouth to shout for Ember, Corian, or even L’zar, but no sound came out.
This can’t be it.
Her vision darkened.
We didn’t even…
The halfling’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she lost consciousness.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The pounding agony in her head returned. Cheyenne groaned and tried to roll over, but all she managed was to slide her arm closer to her side. That’s not grass.
“There she is,” Corian muttered.
“Well, help her up.”
“No,” Cheyenne croaked. “Don’t.” She grimaced against the blazing pain in her temples and behind her eyes and swallowed. “Don’t touch me.”
Persh’al snorted. “She sounds fine to me.”
Cheyenne forced open her eyes and hissed at the bright light hanging from the ceiling directly above her. “Turn that off.”
A shadow loomed over her, blocking the light. The halfling found herself looking into Corian’s glowing silver eyes. “Time to get up, kid.”
“Shit.” She pushed herself slowly off the floor and sat there for another ten seconds while the pain in her head faded to a bearable ache. “What the hell was that?”
Corian offered her a hand, and she took it without thinking. “Looks like your cousin has a knack with portal towers too.”
Cheyenne swayed after she stood, blinking heavily. The nightstalker steadied her with a hand, but she brushed him off. “A portal.” The room spun when she turned around, but she shook off the dizziness and gazed dumbly at the main room of Persh’al’s warehouse. “Here?”
“Not quite.” Corian watched her carefully as she smoothed her hair away from her face. “We didn’t have a lot of time to check specifics, but Neros sent us somewhere in Michigan.”
“Michigan.”
“Your guess is as good as mine, kid.” The nightstalker shrugged. “But we’re all back in one piece.”
“Where’s Ember?”
The front door of the warehouse burst open, followed by Lumil and Ember, both wearing their human illusions. The goblin woman cackled and held the door open for the fae girl. “Not even close, fae. I don’t care where you’ve been or what you think you— Oh, look who finally decided to wake up.”
“How you feelin’?” Ember floated across the warehouse toward the halfling with a small, concerned smile.
“Like I fell from a ten-story building.” Cheyenne rubbed the back of her neck and tried to stretch out the kinks. “Am I the only one who passed out?”
“No, but you’re the only one who stayed out this long.” Ember shrugged. “Even though you’re the last magical I’d expect to be laid out like that. Corian ported us all back here last night. At least, I think he did.”
“Trust me, it’s a blur for all of us.” Corian folded his arms. “I wondered if I’d make it, but we’re all here.”
“Yeah, it was so much fun.” Persh’al scoffed and scratched his shaved blue head. “Would’ve been nice to have some warning before everybody came crawling right through a portal. I almost had a heart attack.”
Lumil snorted. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“Hey, that’s rich coming from the goblin who kept screaming about being turned inside out before she fainted.”
“Whatever.”
The front door burst open again, and Byrd barreled inside. “Five minutes! It’s not too much to ask, is it?” He saw Cheyenne standing in the middle of the warehouse and grinned as the door slammed shut behind him. “Ha! The halfling lives!”
“I’m still not sure.” Cheyenne clenched her eyes shut and briefly rubbed her temples. “He opened a portal.”
Corian scratched his head. “I think I said that already.”
“And we went right through. Isn’t that supposed to be impossible? Portals straight from Ambar’ogúl to Earth?”
“Wasn’t impossible for the Crown that one time,” Ember muttered.
“It’s supposed to be, yeah.” Corian stuck his hands in his pockets. “Ba’rael had a lot of stolen magic fueling her portal at your binding ceremony, Cheyenne. And Neros? I think he’s more tapped into olforím magic than we realized.”
“That wasn’t his magic?”
“Well, I’m sure it is now. Spending his entire life in Nor’ieth, it makes sense. But the olforím are allegedly the ones who created the Border portals.”
“Wait, I thought no one knew where they came from or how long they’ve been there?”
The nightstalker shrugged. “No one knows truth from myth, kid. Until you’re staring the myth in the face. Didn’t think you’d put any stock in O’gúl legends anyway.”
“I don’t. But this is real.”
He nodded slowly. “Very.”
“Neros is one of them, then. Right?” Cheyenne asked, “I thought the washed-out drow look was weird, but I guess he’s more olforím than drow at this point.”
“It would seem so.”
“Awesome. We wasted a whole day going after something that was useless all around, huh?”
The door to the square office at the back of the warehouse creaked open and L’zar strolled out, grinning. “Not completely useless.”
“Right. ‘Cause we all got to see that L’zar Verdys isn’t unstoppable.”
“Well, that was a minor irritation, Cheyenne, but not what I meant.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket as he approached her and stopped to open it. Resting in his palm was a small metal four-pointed star, though this one glowed with a bright silver light in a way those formed from Cheyenne’s magic never had.
She stared at the small piece of metal. “I thought that was a nightstalker thing.”
“You learn quite a bit from having a nightstalker for a Nós Aní.” L’zar shot Corian a sharp glance. “Perhaps more than a nightstalker realized.”
Corian’s silver eyes remained fixed on the glowing four-pointed star in the drow’s hand, and he swallowed.
Cheyenne glanced between them, but Corian never looked up from L’zar’s palm. Something’s going on, and no one’s gonna say anything about it. Again. “So, you turned his magic into metal. How’s that supposed to help us?”
“It has its uses.” L’zar stopped glaring at Corian and stuck the small piece of metal back into his pocket before grinning at Cheyenne. “I’m looking forward to telling you all about it. In private.”
Corian cleared his throat, then stepped back and stared at the cement floor.
Not a good sign.
“Where’s Maleshi?”
“She left an hour ago,” Ember said, her eyebrow raised as she studied Corian’s uncharacteristic nervousness. “To go to class, I think.”
“Oh, shit.” Cheyenne reached up for the strap of her backpack, realized it was gone, and searched the warehouse. Her backpack rested against the far wall, and she stalked toward it. “It’s Monday. I have a class too. What time is it?”
“Nine-thirty.”
“Great. That would barely be enough time if I were at my apartment.”
Corian opened a portal right there between them and glanced quickly at her before averting his gaze. “Then I guess you’d better go.”
L’zar chuckled and glared at the nightstalker. “You’d like that very much, wouldn’t you?”
“It’s not about what I want.”
“Oh, no? It looks very much like what you want, vae shra’ni.”
“We can talk about this later, L’zar.”
The drow thief grinned. “Of course we can. When I’m ready. At the very least, you can wait for that.”
With her backpack slung over her shoulder, Cheyenne headed toward the portal. Whatever’s going on, it has to wait ‘til I’m done teaching my students how to break all the rules.
“So. I’m gonna go.”
“Enjoy your academic pursuits, Cheyenne.” L’zar didn’t look away from Corian, who stared intently at the open portal, his jawing clenching and unclenching. “We all know how important that is.”
“Please. You’re the last magical to give a convincing ‘stay in school’ speech.” Cheyenne nodded at Ember, and the fae girl floated across the floor toward the shimmering oval of light leading into their living room. With a final glance at Corian and then her father, Cheyenne added, “I’ll be back after class, so don’t go anywhere. Or kill each other.”
“Don’t worry about us.” L’zar’s gaze flickered toward her. “We’ll find some way to occupy our time.”
“Uh-huh.” This is so not the time. “Come on, Em.”
“Yep.”
They passed through the portal together into the living room of their loft apartment beside the long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. The portal closed with a soft pop, but not before they heard L’zar’s furious snarl and the beginning of a shouting match on the other side.
Yeah, we’re definitely gonna have a chat about whatever the hell that was.
Cheyenne headed for the front door.
“You okay?” Ember asked.
“Not really.” Cheyenne patted the pockets of her trenchcoat. “And I don’t have my keys.”
“What?”
“Maleshi took my car before our fun inter-world adventure.” Rolling her eyes, the halfling jerked open the door and looked over her shoulder. “You good? Need anything?”
“Got my magic and my own apartment again.” Ember spread her arms. “I’m good.”
“Right.”
“Later.” Ember flicked her fingers toward the door, which shot open before a wall of purple light shoved the halfling into the hall. “You’re gonna be late.”
The door shut quickly in Cheyenne’s face. She stared at it and snorted, then headed quickly down the hall toward the elevators. Fae magic. Looks like she got a little boost.
The elevator seemed to take forever, and she couldn’t mash the buttons fast enough to close the doors behind her. The lobby was empty when she barreled through it around black leather chairs and burst outside into the morning sunlight. Maleshi said she’d take care of the car. I swear, if it’s not here, I’m gonna…
She stopped on the sidewalk. “What the fuck?”
The shiny black Porsche Panamera, not so shiny today, was parked diagonally across the two closest parking spaces in front of her building.
“Are you kidding me?” Cheyenne darted toward the car and choked as she ran her hand over the long scratch down the driver’s side. Dust and dry mud were splattered all over the body, and there was a huge dent above the rear driver’s side wheel well. “The general took my fucking car for a joyride. At least she didn’t park it in two handicap spots!”
She wrenched open the driver’s side door, tossed her backpack on the passenger seat, and slid angrily behind the wheel. Even in her wrath, she made sure not to slam the door, then she reached for the ignition and the keys Maleshi had left in the car for two and a half days.
“She’s never touching this thing again.” Cheyenne started the car and sniffed.
A growl escaped her when she found a burger wrapper and a paper carton of half-eaten fries spilling over the seat beneath her backpack. Nightstalkers. Jesus. No wonder L’zar and Corian get into it all the time. And everyone wondered why I drove around in a beat-up piece of crap before this. “Come on!”
She slammed a hand on the wheel, then shifted into reverse and peeled out of the Pellerville Gables Apartments’ parking lot, cursing Maleshi the whole time.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Cheyenne pulled into the parking lot at the VCU campus at 9:54 a.m. The little chirp flaring behind her when she locked her car did absolutely nothing for her mood. Jamming the keys into her coat pocket, she trudged across the parking lot to get to the Computer Sciences building.
I’m gonna be late. Awesome. What is this, my second week of teaching?
She stepped back and drew her hand back when a mutated troll darted in front of her, all metal spikes and black clothes and a puff of neon-yellow hair sprouting from its head.
“Hey, nice costume.” A human mouth grinned at her beneath the wrinkled, grotesque rubber mask. “If you’re entering the costume contest with that one, I’m screwed.”
“What?” The magic t
hat had almost flared at Cheyenne’s fingertips recoiled and disappeared. The student, who was dressed up like a magical that didn’t exist in any world, laughed, shot her the peace sign, and hurried toward wherever he was headed.
She glanced down at her purple-gray hand, then at the bone-white hair falling over her shoulders. Shit. I’m still in full-on drow mode.
More students shouted as they hurried across the campus to their next classes. Half of them were in costume.
It’s Halloween. How did I miss that?
Shoving her hands in her pockets, Cheyenne trudged down the walkway through campus, staring at the cement beneath her. Students everywhere stopped and stared, pointing and calling out her costume.
“Yo, you into that cosplaying stuff?”
“Sure.” She kept her head down and walked faster.
“Hey, for real, though.” A kid dressed like Superman jogged toward her, his thin cape fluttering behind him as he grinned. “That’s a seriously realistic makeup job you got goin’ on. How did you get that color?”
“Get lost.”
“Whoa. And those ears!” He reached toward her head with wide eyes.
Cheyenne slapped his hand away. “Back the fuck off!”
“Okay, okay.” The kid’s hands flew up in surrender, and he stepped back. “Hey, I’m a fan, all right?”
She looked him up and down and gritted her teeth. “Thanks. Nice cape.”
He gaped at her as she stormed past him down the sidewalk. Get it together, Cheyenne. You can’t bring this other crap with you into the classroom. Forget L’zar and Corian. Forget the Panamera. Just chill the hell out. Stupid mistake not to kill the drow look, and now you gotta deal with it.
She started jogging across the quad when the Computer Sciences building came into view. The giant mound of dirt where she’d closed the newest Border portal was still surrounded by people in uniform, who knelt and took measurements and typed on tablets. Sir’s still got agents pretending to work for someone else, huh? At least he didn’t ignore the warnings on this one.
One of the FRoE agents with an oversized baseball cap looked briefly up at her, blinked, and spread his arms. “Hey.”