by Martha Carr
Corian’s silver eyes widened. “This isn’t a drill, by the way.”
“Yep.” The girls headed for the portal, which closed behind them as soon as they stepped through into Persh’al’s warehouse.
“Hey, good to see everybody here.” Cheyenne grinned at L’zar’s rebels, who gathered around the new arrivals.
Lumil frowned and leaned away from her. “You feelin’ okay?”
Cheyenne’s grin disappeared, and she cocked her head with a deadpan stare aimed at the goblin. “Does this make you feel more comfortable?”
“There you go.” Lumil wagged a finger at her. “That looks and sounds like the Cheyenne I know.”
“You know, with the exception of Ember, there isn’t a magical in this warehouse who can say they know Cheyenne.”
Ember snorted and shot her friend a sidelong glance. “Talking in the third person now?”
Cheyenne shrugged. “Better or worse than plural personal pronouns?”
“I’ll have to think about it.”
Corian shook his head and stared at the halfling and her fae Nós Aní. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two are trying to hide something under all this lightheartedness.”
Spreading her arms, Cheyenne raised her eyebrows at the nightstalker. “Hey, just because I’m Goth doesn’t mean I can’t have a good day.”
“With a serious attitude problem.” Ember pointed at her and nodded. “Don’t forget that part. Goth with a serious attitude problem.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
Byrd frowned, his eyes widening in uncertainty. “Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out.”
Lumil elbowed him in the ribs. “I think this whole ‘put the FRoE bastards in their place’ thing went right to her crownless head.”
“The Crown doesn’t even wear a crown. What are you talking about?”
“It’s a fucking figure of speech, man.”
“Not when we’re talking about literal crowns.”
“Okay, stop.” Cheyenne raised both hands and looked from one freaked-out goblin to the other. “You guys need to chill out. We’re not fighting loyalists or infiltrating Hangivol or trying to hold back the blight. It’s a simple magical-prison break-in. In comparison, this is a pretty good day.”
“Simple, huh?” L’zar emerged from his room at the back of the warehouse and cocked his head. “You’re starting to sound more like me every day.”
“See, that’s exactly the kinda thing that ruins a halfling’s good mood.”
The drow thief ignored his daughter’s quip and joined the rest of them in the center of the warehouse. He nodded at Corian. “And the agents?”
“We’re meeting them halfway between here and Chateau D’rahl.”
L’zar settled his golden-eyed gaze on Cheyenne, and she shrugged. “Yeah. I passed along the information.”
His brows flicked together in confusion. “I’m wondering why we agreed to go to them instead of the other way around.”
Corian shook his head. “I can port them in and out of the warehouse all day, L’zar, but they don’t get driving directions, and I’m not about to open a portal for all of us right in front of the prison gates. One magical surprise caught on camera twenty-one years ago was enough.”
L’zar pursed his lips. “Hmm.”
“Well then, let’s go meet the super-agents, huh?” Snickering, Persh’al walked around his computer table, slinging a huge, heavy-looking square bag over his shoulder as he headed for the front door of the warehouse. He patted the hard-case bag thumping against his thigh. “Got this baby up and running, but I can’t do shit until I get those access badges and a few other pieces. No one cares about the details. Got it.”
Bright sunlight and crisp fall air streamed into the warehouse when the blue troll pushed open the door. The group of rebel magicals followed him out to his black SUV in the cracked, uneven parking lot overgrown with weeds.
Ember snorted. “Anyone else notice the Rebelmobile looks a lot like the FRoE wagon?”
“Ha. Good one.” Lumil slapped the fae girl on the shoulder and brushed past her toward the SUV.
Blinking in surprise, Ember flicked her hand at the goblin. A burst of purple light bloomed on Lumil’s back and shoved her into the side of the vehicle with a hollow thump.
“Hey! Who the hell thinks it’s a good idea to start with the—” Lumil spun and found no one behind her. Byrd burst out laughing and pointed at Ember. “You too, fae?”
“If you’re gonna hit people like it’s no big deal, goblin, don’t get pissed when someone hits you back. It’s no big deal.”
“Uh-huh. You’re gettin’ too big for your little magical britches, my friend.”
Ember grinned. “There’s a lot more where that came from.”
Cheyenne leaned in and murmured, “I knew there was a reason you and I are friends.”
“Oh, you’re just now figuring that out?” Ember snorted. “Excellent.”
The other magicals piled into the car, Persh’al behind the wheel, L’zar up front in the passenger seat. Corian pulled Byrd back by the collar when the goblin man moved to climb into the very back row of seats with Lumil. “Uh-uh. I’m not driving anywhere in a car where the two of you are sitting next to each other.”
“You know you could say please instead of jerking me all over the place by my shirt, right?” Byrd ripped his collar out of Corian’s grasp and tugged down the sides of his jean jacket. “Jeeze.”
Corian shoved his face up into Byrd’s. “Please and thank you.” Then he climbed into the back seat after Lumil and stared straight ahead while Maleshi climbed in beside him.
Cheyenne, Ember, and Byrd sat in the middle row, and they made sure to keep the goblins on opposite sides of the car.
Chapter Seventy-One
The drive to the location Rhynehart had texted to Cheyenne only took them twenty minutes. Persh’al rolled the SUV to a stop and parked it beside a nearly identical black vehicle behind a maintenance building five minutes from the prison grounds. “Pros and cons of living in DC, right? Chateau D’rahl’s just a jump away, but everyone’s driving around in the same car.”
Cheyenne laughed as she stepped out of the vehicle and pulled the back of the middle seat forward to let the others out. “Hey, at least we won’t have any problem passing us all off as FRoE agents, huh?”
He snorted. “Says the halfling who doesn’t have to play dress-up. And half of us aren’t even going in, so don’t blow it out of proportion.”
“Still, it’s convenient camouflage.” Cheyenne folded her arms and watched Rhynehart and his agents hopping out of their SUV. “At least it’s not an orange Kia Rio.”
Rhynehart smiled as he caught the conversation. “Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t seen that car anywhere else around town.”
She laughed. “That’s probably because Sir drives a beige Camry.”
He stared at her. “Where does he keep it?”
“Not at home. I can tell you that much.”
“As fun as it is to watch you two talk about something with zero significance to our current objective…” L’zar gave them a fake smile and gestured at Rhynehart’s SUV.
The team leader cleared his throat. “Right. On task. Bhandi.”
“Quit naggin’ me, man. I got it.”
The troll woman grunted at the open back of the FRoE SUV and stalked over to the others with a pile of gear in her arms.
Cheyenne almost laughed out loud at Rhynehart’s startled expression. “You let her talk to you like that all the time?”
“As far as I know, that’s the only way she talks to anyone.”
“Yeah, that’s the impression I got too.”
“Here.” Bhandi chucked a dampening vest at Corian’s face and slung one at L’zar, then eyed the others and shrugged. “Guess this one’s for me. And you two are gonna have to wear a mask. You cool with that?”
As the troll woman tugged the vest on, Corian and L’zar studied theirs
with barely concealed amusement. Lumil and Byrd cracked up.
“Are you kidding me?” Lumil thumped the side of Persh’al’s SUV with a fist.
“Hey.”
She ignored the blue troll and pointed at Corian and L’zar. “You think those dinky little vests are gonna do anything those two can’t do with their hands tied behind their backs?”
“Oh, shit.” Byrd fought to catch his breath. “Man, I can’t wait to see you boppin’ around in one of those, L’zar.”
The drow thief extended his dampening vest pinched between his fingers and looked it over. “Indeed.”
“Those two,” Rhynehart said, strapping on his own vest, “have to pass as FRoE agents. All of whom, by the way, wear these vests.”
“And by mask, I’m assuming you mean a human illusion,” Corian added, inspecting his own vest.
“Yeah.” Rhynehart glanced at Bhandi, who shrugged. “That’s what our magical agents tend to call it, and we don’t assign magical agents to patrol Chateau D’rahl.”
“Ha!” Lumil smacked her hands together. “You guys have to pretend to be puny human FRoE agents who think they stand a chance against—” She burst out laughing. “Against real magic!”
Rhynehart scowled at the goblin. “You know what? This gear’s held up fine for the last twenty-one years.”
Byrd chuckled, shooting Lumil a fleeting glance and stepping sideways as she flailed around in hysterics. “Yeah, against criminals and random O’gúleesh breaking all your rules. Not against soldiers from the other side.”
When Rhynehart glanced at Corian, the nightstalker rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll play the game.” He pulled the vest on over his loose shirt and pants, and the goblins lost it all over again.
“A game. Yes.” L’zar stared at Rhynehart and snapped his fingers. The dampening vest disappeared from his outstretched hand and reappeared around his body a split-second later. “Something I very much enjoy.”
“As long as you’re not playing your psychotic games with me, drow, I really don’t give a shit.” Rhynehart stared at L’zar and Corian. “We’re not going any closer to that prison until you get rid of all the fur and gray skin.”
Corian moved his fingers in a series of quick gestures. Silver light flashed around his hand, then his human illusion appeared, complete with black fatigues beneath the dampening vest. “I hope this will do.”
Rhynehart looked him up and down and turned to L’zar. “Come on.”
The drow thief widened his eyes at Rhynehart over a coy smile. “You really are a fan of details, aren’t you?”
“I’m a fan of not being made by the people I’m supposed to be working with to keep assholes like you behind bars. If I have to turn against my own guys to get this shit done, you can look like a damn human for an hour,”
“Oh, it won’t take us nearly that long.” L’zar’s fingers moved in a blur as he cast his illusion spell. His pointed ears disappeared, long white hair shrank into close-cropped brown curls, and he lost at least four inches in height.
Cheyenne swallowed. Jesus. Just a few months ago, I was staring at that face on Mom’s computer screen. “You really think it’s a good idea to walk around looking like the guy who turned himself in twenty-one years ago before he turned into you?”
L’zar playfully rolled his eyes. “No one’s going to remember this face, Cheyenne.”
“I did.”
“Hmm.” His fingers twitched again, and the bridge of his nose ballooned out into a sharp, angular hook as his hair went from brown to sandy blond. “There. I’m a new man.”
Lumil shook her head. “Gotta say, L’zar. Not a good look for you.”
“This isn’t a damn beauty contest,” Rhynehart grumbled. “Get in the car.”
L’zar clasped his hands behind the thick dampening vest covering his back and strolled to the open back seat. Corian turned to Cheyenne and nodded. “Let’s go.”
“I can put on a mask too,” Ember said, floating to the FRoE’s SUV and getting ready to cast the spell. “I wanna see the inside of this place.”
Corian shook his head. “Not a good idea.”
“What? Why not?”
“Ember, if you have a reasonable explanation to give the guards in that prison as to why your feet don’t touch the ground when you move, then by all means, come with us.”
She glanced down at the inch of open space between the soles of her feet and the asphalt. “Shit. Okay, fine. I’ll stay in this car.”
Persh’al frowned at her. “You say that like we’re a bunch of losers.”
“Not what I meant. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He opened the driver’s side door of his SUV and climbed behind the wheel. “It’s not like I’m sensitive about the tech geek always being shoved aside as the least cool one or anything.”
Before Ember could say anything else, the troll closed the door and started the engine again.
“He’s fine,” Cheyenne reassured her friend. “And you’ll have fun watching him work all that tech he rigged up to the back seat.”
“I can’t wait.” With a snort, Ember opened the back door and climbed in beside the goblins. “See ya on the other side, Goth drow.”
“Hey!” Bhandi slammed the trunk of Rhynehart’s vehicle and pointed at the fae girl. “That’s my line.”
“Yeah, it’s a good one.” Ember grinned and pulled the door closed behind her, wiggling her fingers at the troll through the window.
Bhandi waved her off. “She’s crazy, Cheyenne. You know that?”
“Why do you think we’re friends?”
“Yeah, I like her too.” They got into Rhynehart’s car with Tate, Yurik, L’zar, and Corian as Rhynehart started the engine. “She kick ass in a fight the way she kicked ass with that black shit at the portal?”
Cheyenne strapped herself in. “Yeah. She does okay.” If I told them about Ember blasting Ba’rael back through the portal at the binding ceremony, these guys wouldn’t have a clue what that means.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Cheyenne watched Persh’al park outside the exterior gates opening into the parking lot in front of Chateau D’rahl. “We’re all sure that’s the best place for them to hang out and wait for us?”
“Persh’al’s sure,” Corian said. “That’s all I need to know.”
“Fair enough.”
Yurik turned around in the front passenger seat as Rhynehart drove them into the parking lot. The brown eyes of his human mask settled on Cheyenne. “Has that troll really been watching this place?”
“Since it was first built,” L’zar answered with a slow nod.
Cheyenne shot her father a quick frown. “What he said.”
“And no one picked up on it. Huh.” With a snort, the muscular goblin turned around again and thumped back against the seat. “Man, somebody needs to get this place some better security.”
Rhynehart ran his tongue over his teeth in irritation. “So I’ve noticed.” He parked the car, turned off the engine, and practically threw off his seatbelt. “Let’s get this over with before I remember what a fucking terrible idea it is.”
L’zar shot Cheyenne a playful grimace as Rhynehart slapped the driver’s side door shut behind him. “Someone’s a little touchy.”
“I mean, with your track record, he kinda has a reason to be.”
“I don’t plan on jeopardizing this little jail-break, Cheyenne.” He raised an eyebrow and opened the door. “I hope your friend can say the same.”
She rolled her eyes and followed him out of the car. With Corian, Bhandi, Tate, and Yurik following closely, they headed after Rhynehart toward the front gates of Chateau D’rahl.
Bhandi leaned over to Cheyenne and muttered from the side of her mouth, “You’ve been here before, right?”
“Yep. Not that big a deal.”
“For real?” The troll, whose human-illusion mask gave her bright blue eyes and dark auburn hair, clicked her tongue. “That sucks. We threaten to lock assholes up her
e all the time. Sometimes we even ship ‘em here directly.”
Yurik nodded and gazed at the top of the security towers on either side of the front doors. “Yeah, doesn’t pack the same punch when you know the place you’re threatening to send ‘em isn’t that big a deal.”
“Sorry to burst your bubbles.” Cheyenne snorted. “Would you rather have me tell you it’s the most dangerous place I’ve ever been, and I hope we don’t die on the extremely high chance that we get caught and we can’t fight our way out of it?”
The agents glanced at each other, and each cracked a small smile.
“I mean, it kinda helps with morale, right?” Yurik wiggled his eyebrows.
Shaking her head, Cheyenne tried to hide a crooked smile as she stared at the front doors. “You guys are nuts.”
“Come on, Goth drow.” Bhandi elbowed her in the ribs. “You already knew that.”
Rhynehart glanced at them over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows. “Do I need to find you a private room so you can hear each other better? No? Then shut up and pay attention.”
Cheyenne frowned at the back of the agent’s head. That better be his version of hardass superior bringing in new prison recruits. Could be real, though.
Bhandi stifled a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”
“Hey, Stevens.” Rhynehart nodded at the guard in uniform, standing inside the security tower. Stevens nodded back and offered the gesture to the group of magicals in disguise. When he looked at Cheyenne, though, he frowned.
Cheyenne raised her fist and pumped devil horns his way before heading after Rhynehart, Corian, and L’zar. Gotta act like the angry Goth halfling who got in way over her head and has to pander to Sir and his fuckups. Easy enough.
When they entered the prison’s front lobby, Rhynehart nodded at the guard standing at the counter on the left behind the pane of reinforced glass. “Crowley.”
“Rhynehart.” Crowley leaned forward as far as he could without pressing his face against the glass and took stock of Cheyenne and the five new agents on prison duty. “Something going on that I don’t know about?”