The Drow Grew Stronger (Goth Drow Book 4)

by Martha Carr

  “L’zar Verdys is sitting right behind you!” Borris drew his weapon and aimed it at Cheyenne.

  “Oh, hell, no!” Lumil’s spinning red runes burst into existence again.

  “I said, stand the fuck down!” Rhynehart shouted.

  “You’re the one who brought him here!” Borris screamed at Cheyenne, gripping his fell pistol with both hands and aiming it at the halfling’s chest. “How are we supposed to know you’re on our side, huh? That drow’s an escaped convict!”

  “Yeah, that drow looks real threatening right now, doesn’t he?” She gestured at L’zar, who still hadn’t moved. “He hasn’t lifted a finger toward any of you since we got here. You wanna know what side I’m on? Everyone’s.” I’m so done with guns. Cheyenne studied the weapon in his hands, and the activator still behind her ear picked up on every weak spot, every sliding mechanism, every separate piece. “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna stand here and let you point your gun at me because you’re trying to feel a little less like an idiot. Trust me, it isn’t working.”

  Borris glared at her and readjusted his grip.

  “So, I’m gonna ask you once.” She spread her arms. “You gonna put that peashooter away or what?”

  “Fuck you. You’re a halfling. You don’t even belong with those magicals. Who came here illegally, by the way.”

  Cheyenne accepted every action prompted by her activator. With two quick swipes of her fingers through the air, her tech-synced magic pulled the fell pistol apart, revealing the green glow of the fell firepower. The pieces thumped into the grass one by one. Borris struggled for a second to keep his grip on the pistol, but his eyes widened as the metal parts flowed through his fingers like water, and he stepped back.

  The fell ammunition flared in a glowing green pile on the ground, and Cheyenne’s activator gave her the perfect spell option for snuffing it. It left behind a puff of dissipating green smoke, and that was it.

  She folded her arms and gave Borris a deadpan stare. “If we’re gonna do what needs to get done, man, there are no sides. It’s all the same. Now do you get it?”

  Borris looked at Rhynehart.

  Rhynehart frowned at the pieces of the fell pistol. “Cheyenne, how the fuck did you do that?”

  “Nifty little trick I picked up in Ambar’ogúl.”

  “Trick.”

  Borris slapped a hand on his holster, forgetting that his firearm had been pulled apart in front of him. The other agents shifted nervously, and while none of them took their hands off their weapons, they were smart enough not to aim anything at the halfling.

  “Technology, actually.” Cheyenne stepped toward the agents and pulled the activator out from behind her ear, her eyelids fluttering at the small pinch. Every operative on Rhynehart’s team stepped back.

  “Whatever that is, keep it the hell away from me.”

  “We get it. You win.”

  “You made your point, halfling.”

  She stopped and held up the silver coil for everyone to see. “It’s an activator. Top-of-the-line O’gúl tech that syncs with magic. Kinda hard to wrap your head around, I know, but it makes anything possible. Almost.”

  “Bullshit,” another agent whispered.

  Rhynehart’s eyes narrowed. “If those things are so amazing, halfling, how come I’ve never seen one before?”

  “They don’t cross the Border.” She shrugged and stuck the activator behind her ear again, cocking her head when the tech synced and made her eyelids flutter again. “Unless I’m the one ferrying it back across, apparently.”

  He chewed the inside of his lower lip. “Just you?”

  “Well, there’s a chance it’s a halfling thing, but a few magicals went through a bunch of trouble to make sure no one on the other side could tell that’s what I am.” Cheyenne stuck her hands in the pockets of her trenchcoat and felt the thick silver cuff stolen from Ur’syth, the Oracle crone. “Most halflings don’t have that luxury, do they?”

  Rhynehart licked his lips, his gaze flickering over her. “So, you’re the only one who can use that thing?”

  “Earthside, yeah.” She gestured at the magicals on his team. “And something has to change with the way you pick your operatives. Seriously. Or at least set them up with somebody who knows what the hell you’re dealing with when refugees cross the Border. They’re all clueless.”

  “Speak for yourself,” a troll agent muttered, but he immediately stepped back and stared at the grass.

  “No, I’m sure I’m speaking for all of you. Did anyone ever stop to think why your employer only takes magicals born Earthside?”

  “Cheyenne.” Rhynehart nodded away from his team and took off toward the house. “A word.”

  “Yeah.” She gazed at the startled, confused operatives staring at her and shrugged. “Think about it.”

  When she joined Rhynehart in the middle of the lawn, the team leader folded his arms and leaned toward her, his chin dipped low. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t know about the selection process for your agents.”

  “No, I’m well aware of that. The way you’re saying it makes it sound like there’s something else going on.”

  “Yeah, well, there is.” She folded her arms in a nearly perfect imitation of his posture and leaned forward too. “The people running your organization don’t want O’gúleesh on their payroll, Rhynehart, only Earthborn magicals. They know the cities and the way the human world works, and they’re powerful enough to deal with whatever magical trouble pops up before you get shipped out to handle it. It also keeps every FRoE agent in the field dumb enough not to pick up on what’s happening behind the scenes.”

  Rhynehart snorted. “You’re walking a thin line, Cheyenne.”

  “I’ve been walking a thin line since we met. That hasn’t changed. Now I don’t care, ‘cause I have a lot bigger problems to deal with.”

  “Spill it, then. What’s happening behind the scenes?”

  “Colonel Les Thomas.”

  The agent’s frown darkened. “What about him?”

  “Jeeze, I’m gonna know this story inside and out after explaining it to every single…” Cheyenne ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Look. The colonel’s connected to someone who wrote a program that works with old-school O’gúl tech. Not like my activator, but just as effective—and seriously dangerous in the wrong hands, which are the hands that have it right now.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “Okay. Let me put this into bite-sized chunks for you.” Cheyenne ignored his irritated scowl. “Colonel Thomas is connecting O’gúl loyalists, magicals who came over here to organize seriously nasty stuff for the ruler of the other side, with the resources to make O’gúl tech that isn’t supposed to function over here work. And it does. I’ve seen it, and I’ve fought it. I’m also sure he’s been feeding everything about me right to those loyalists.”

  “What the hell is a loyalist?”

  “The bad guys, Rhynehart!” She took a deep breath and forced her anger back down. “That simple enough for you? One of the FRoE’s top officials is a traitor who doesn’t give a shit about the Border regulation and is helping unregistered magicals build an army of war machines to use against us, and none of your agents is equipped to handle it because they have no idea how to fight this tech. Or even what it is. Because they were born here.”

  Rhynehart studied her face, glanced quickly at his agents milling nervously in front of the portal ridge, and cocked his head. “So tell me how to equip them.”

  “I don’t know. Wait, you believe me?”

  He shrugged. “I know what happens when I assume you’re full of shit. And we agreed to trust each other at the very least, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

  “Who else knows about Colonel Thomas?”

  “Sir.”

  Rhynehart snorted. “You went straight to him, huh?”

  Cheyenne couldn’t help herself. She grinn
ed. “Straight to his house, if you really wanna know.”

  The agent looked like he was choking. “His house.”

  “Guess he was off-duty today, or at least off a little early. He’s supposed to be checking into Colonel Thomas, and I’m waiting to hear back from him so we can—”

  “Back up!” one of the agents shouted.

  Cheyenne and Rhynehart turned to see Corian standing ten feet from the frozen Bianca Summerlin. The agents were on high alert again, hands on weapons, unable to hide their fear of the first nightstalker most of them had seen. Corian lifted both hands and tilted his head. “I’m not interested in any of you. Not in the slightest.”

  “Doesn’t mean you don’t need to step back right now!”

  With an amused look, Corian stepped away from Bianca, lowered his hands, and faced the agents who couldn’t handle the unexpected company.

  Cheyenne shook her head. “We need to make some changes.”

  “Yeah, your furry cat friend needs to get down off his high horse.”

  “Well, there’s an image.”

  Rhynehart shot her an exasperated glance. “You gonna offer any suggestions, halfling? Or are you enjoying your new role as the drow who tells everyone else what to do?”

  She scoffed. “Please. If I say I’m gonna do something, you know I’m good for it, whether you like it or not. And yeah, I have a suggestion. Things would be a lot less tense and way less dangerous if we had a shift change.”

  “I don’t know that I follow.”

  “Fine. If you had a shift change.” Cheyenne nodded at the agents, who were set more on edge by unregistered magicals than by fighting in-between monsters from a portal that shouldn’t exist. “When I called in for help out here, Sir made sure you brought a team I didn’t know.”

  Rhynehart grunted. “You picked up on that, huh?”

  “Don’t be insulting.”

  He smirked.

  “These guys have no idea what to expect, and it’s making them even more unpredictable. How about getting some operatives up here who know me and trust me, first of all, and who can handle the kind of attitude every single one of these O’gúleesh dishes out on a regular basis?”

  “You want me to trade out this team that’s been here for almost a week so you can hang out with your friends?”

  Cheyenne cocked her head halfway in agreement. “Well, that’s what we need right now, friends. If I need to call them that to get the point across, fine. They’re my friends. And yeah, I want you to trade ‘em out.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re feeling lonely.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Very funny. I’m thinking about everybody’s sanity here, Rhynehart. Not just my own. And physical wellbeing, too. Seriously, if those goblins start bashing your guys, none of your agents is making it out of here in one piece. Trust me.”

  “Hmm.” The team leader squinted at his agents. “You know I’ll have to put in a request for that, right?”

  “Then put in a request.” Cheyenne shrugged. “Sir’s not in any position to deny me something like that.”

  “Care to explain how that’s even remotely possible?”

  “Just tell him I asked for this personally. If you’re that skeptical, I’m happy to bet on it.” She flashed him a tight, completely fake grin.

  Rhynehart rolled his eyes, smacked his lips, and pulled out his cell phone with a long sigh. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “Oh, you’ll believe it. Don’t forget to tell him.” The halfling folded her arms and turned her back on the portal ridge, her cursed mom, the FRoE agents, and L’zar’s rebels just to get a better view of Rhynehart’s face. This is gonna make so many things worth it.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Rhynehart shot Cheyenne a quick glance as he waited for Sir to pick up.

  “What is it?”

  “Sir. I want to run a request by you.”

  “I’m not your goddamn wet-nurse, Rhynehart. That’s why you have the job you have. You don’t need a tit to suckle. Handle it yourself.”

  The team leader pressed his lips together and waited for the man to finish his relatively mild outburst.

  “All right. Shit.” Sir cleared his throat. “What is it?”

  “Assignment change up at the Summerlin estate.”

  “What the fuck for?”

  Rhynehart stuck his free hand in his pocket. “To give these guys a break. Mostly.”

  “Your attempt to cover that one up has whorehouse stink all over it, soldier. What’s the other reason?”

  “A personal request. Tate, Yurik, and Bhandi, plus—”

  “Personal request? Personal request? Who the fuck do you think we are? The Make a Magical Goddamn Wish Foundation? If your team isn’t laid out flat or hobbling away from that mansion in the middle of nowhere holding bleeding stumps where their heads should be, you’re not changing a goddamn thing about the assignment. Why the hell do you want to start switching it up now?”

  Rhynehart pulled the phone away from his ear to keep from going deaf and blinked at Cheyenne. She nodded.

  “Not a personal request from me, Sir.” He swallowed. “From Cheyenne—”

  “Cheyenne?” Sir roared on the other end of the line, followed by the smashing of glass and heavy furniture scooting across the floor.

  The halfling stared at Rhynehart’s phone. And he didn’t even put it on speaker.

  “That skin-changing freakshow needs to get her dark-elf nose out of our goddamn business! And you, Rhynehart, need to grow a pair! Santa Claus on a goddamn sandwich, man! A baby treefrog has a bigger sack than you do. You look that freaky face-pierced wannabe warrior of death right in the eye, and you tell her from me that I’m—”

  “Give me the phone.” Cheyenne extended her open hand.

  “Yep.” Rhynehart dropped it gently into her palm with a snort.

  She lifted the phone halfway to her ear, which was plenty close enough to hear the string of nonsense metaphors and relentless obscenities spewing from the major’s mouth. “Feel free to tell me yourself, Major.”

  Sir’s voice cut off instantly.

  Cheyenne pressed the phone against her ear. “You still there?”

  “Go jump off a cliff.”

  “Well, I might. Just not quite yet. I could definitely use approval of Rhynehart’s request, though. Of course, if you deny it, I’ll probably have to stop by the base and grab new agents myself. Don’t worry, I won’t forget about paying you a visit either. It was so much fun last time.”

  “Better yet, I’ll push you off that cliff myself.”

  “I’m sure you’d like to.”

  Sir snarled into the phone and thumped something beside him hard enough to make him hiss in pain. “Give him the phone, halfling.”

  This time when Cheyenne grinned at Rhynehart, it was genuine. She handed the phone back and stuck her hands in her coat pockets. He caved a lot faster than I expected. Guess I made an excellent impression.

  Rhynehart frowned as Sir spent another minute grumbling into the phone. “Got it. Yeah. No, you don’t need to—” Blinking quickly, he pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the home screen. “Hasn’t hung up on me in a long time.”

  “But you’re good to go with the ol’ switcheroo, aren’t you?”

  The agent slipped his phone numbly into the pocket of his black fatigues and turned to her. “What did you do to him, Cheyenne?”

  She batted her eyes and emulated her mother’s honed talent for delivering shocking news with grace and barely concealed enjoyment. “I had a lovely conversation with his wife.”

  “That asshole’s married?”

  “I know, right?”

  “Jesus. I think my brain’s turning inside-out.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” Cheyenne took a deep breath and glanced at the agent’s empty hand. “You’re supposed to be calling the new team, remember?”

  “Oh, shit. Yeah.” Rhynehart pulled out his phone again, cleared his throat, and scrol
led through the contacts list. “You didn’t happen to hear Sir’s first name during that conversation with his wife, did you?”

  “Many, many times.” Grinning like a crazy person, Cheyenne watched him make the first call. I’m not moving ‘til I know we’ve got magicals I trust on the way, but I can really enjoy the fact that I know all about Guy Carson, and Rhynehart doesn’t. “If you put aside everything you know about how the FRoE works and help me take down Colonel Thomas and those war machines, maybe I’ll tell you.”

  “Hmm. Turning against the best employer I’ve ever had, helping a drow halfling and her criminal father bash up a few other criminals, and finally figure out that bastard’s first name. You know how much you’re asking, Cheyenne?”

  “Of course I do. Will it be worth it for you?” She pointed at him and tried not to smile.

  Rhynehart cleared his throat again as the line rang and stretched his neck and shoulders like he’d been cramped in a box all day. “Kinda, yeah.”

  “Then it’s not asking too much.”

  * * *

  An hour later, the sun was well behind the horizon, but the sky was still streaked with fading orange light. Cheyenne’s drow hearing picked up the sound of another black FRoE SUV making its way up the gravel drive in front of the house. She met Rhynehart’s gaze and nodded. “They’re here.”

  “What? How do you even know that?”

  All she had to do was point at her pointy-tipped purple-gray ear poking out of her bone-white hair.

  Rhynehart shrugged. “Can you handle briefing your friends on why they’re here?”

  “Someone has to.”

  “You know exactly why I didn’t.” He pointed at her and stalked over to his first team of agents, who looked dead on their feet. “It’ll make more sense coming from you anyway. Probably.”

  “Yep.” Cheyenne turned toward the house and saw Corian watching her. He stood beside L’zar now, who still hadn’t moved, and pointed at the house in curiosity. “You’ll see.”

  The halfling took off across the lawn, jogged up the flagstone steps beside the house, and hurried around the pruned bushes just as the newest FRoE vehicle pulled up behind the first in front of the Summerlin estate. Multiple pulses of soft yellow light shimmered behind the tinted windows, then the front passenger side door opened, and a grinning Bhandi leaped out of the SUV.