by Martha Carr
“Okay, that’s not what I expected.”
“It’s not the whole FRoE, Em, just the colonel. I’ve got lists of every meeting he’s had with them. All the login and security information for the private fucking server he’s been sharing with the Bull’s Head—courtesy of his ridiculously accommodating nephew, of course. Jesus, this guy’s in deep.”
“It’s just him? All on his own?” Ember shrugged with a sheepish grimace. “I mean, I at least figured Sir would’ve had something to do with it.”
“I don’t have anything on Major Guy Carson.” Cheyenne shook her head and let out a wry chuckle. “And I don’t really give a shit about the major right now. At the very least, Les Thomas has been tracking me using old-school tech from the other side, or he was until I came back from Ambar’ogúl with my very own activator that isn’t supposed to work over here.”
“Damn.” Ember lifted the remote and turned off her show before tossing the thing back onto the coffee table. “What, he just stopped keeping tabs on you now that you have the activator over here?”
“That’s what it looks like, yeah. Nothing from the Crown, though. I don’t know what I’d do if a human was dealing with Ba’rael Verdys from the other side.”
“Ugh.” Ember shuddered.
“But everything the FRoE has on me in their stupid system was fed to the Bull’s Head. Locations. Assignments. Shit, even my mom and her address are in here.”
“Okay, that’s a reason to blow shit up.”
“Yeah, but I have something even better, Em.” Cheyenne tapped her monitor and grinned. “Looks like Colonel Thomas set up an emergency meeting with those assholes this morning. Ha. It’s on Sunday.”
“Whoa.” Ember clenched her eyes shut and took a deep breath. “So, we have four days to figure out how we wanna deal with this human traitor batting for the wrong team.”
“More than enough time. We still have a little over a week to put everything together for the Crown before we make the crossing again. We need to lay low until Sunday, crash the colonel’s private party with those idiots who don’t even know Ba’rael’s on her way out, then skip on over into a different world and overthrow a drow monarch. We’re golden.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Ember rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Piece of cake.”
Cheyenne shrugged. “I mean, really, though.”
“Actually, that does sound a lot simpler and easier than most of the weird crap we’ve done in the last week.”
“Exactly, Em.” Removing the activator from behind her ear, Cheyenne dumped all the stolen files back into the Bunker to keep them hidden and powered Glen down. Don’t want our nosy neighbor getting too nosy with my IP address and a phone call or two from his uncle about a Goth chick in his apartment building.
Ember rose from the couch and floated into the kitchen. “I’m kinda feeling it right now, but I should double-check just in case. This is totally something worth celebrating a little, right?”
“For sure.” The halfling hurried down the stairs, her black Vans clanging on the metal grates. “I mean, not as celebration-worthy as finally wiping out the Bull’s Head and getting Colonel Les Thomas off my back, but this is good, Em. Like, we’re finally figuring stuff out before we go and level the playing field.”
Ember snorted. “More like turn the whole playing field into a massive smoking crater, but I get it.”
“Very funny.” Cheyenne joined her friend in the kitchen. “You were saying something about celebrating?”
“Basically, I’m saying screw takeout.” Ember opened the fridge and pulled out two pints of ice cream. “Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough or Double Fudge Mint?”
Cheyenne barked a laugh. “And I thought choosing someone to take my place as the next O’gúl Crown was hard.”
“Laugh it up, smartass.” Ember flicked her hand at the cabinet. The door swung open in a burst of purple light, and a large glass mixing bowl sailed into the fae’s outstretched hand. “Then I’ll choose for you. We’re going half-and-half.”
“Very nice.”
With another flick of Ember’s hand, both lids popped off the pints of ice cream. Two spoons flew from the suddenly open drawer, and the fae snatched one of them out of the air without looking. The other dug into the pint of cookie dough ice cream, and Ember pointed the spoon at her friend. “And I’m not afraid to use it.”
“So, I’m gonna have to get used to things flying all over the apartment now, huh?”
“Only if you want ice cream for dinner.”
“I think I can deal with it.” Chuckling, Cheyenne watched her friend scoop heaping spoonfuls of mint ice cream into the bowl first, her tongue poking between her pink-tinted lips. “What are the chances of you teaching me your flying-spoon spells?”
“Zero, halfling.” Ember dropped her spoon in the bowl and got to work scooping out half the other pint on top of it. “You said it yourself. We both know how much you like blowing shit up, and I’m not sure flying spoons are worth the trouble.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Healer.”
Ember snorted and slid the bowl of mixed ice cream across the kitchen island to Cheyenne. “Shut the fuck up and eat your dinner.”
With a warning glance at the halfling, she scooped up both half-full pints and took them with her to the couch.
Cheyenne ran her fingers over her lips to wipe off the smile and snatched up the bowl and the spoon. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * *
Two hours after slipping beneath the black satin sheets on her bed, Cheyenne dreamt she was in her mom’s house again, walking down the hall and passing the open French doors into Bianca’s bedroom. She stopped to peer into the room at the crisply made king-sized bed like she had two nights ago, only her mom was in the bed this time.
Bianca’s ratted, tangled hair lay scattered across her shoulders, framing her face in an unkempt halo of auburn curls. The woman was sitting up, her legs covered by the thick quilt. Her hands rested on top of the quilt beside her thighs, making her look peaceful until Cheyenne noticed the bunched fabric in her mom’s tightly clenched fists.
The worst part was that Bianca Summerlin looked like shit.
“Cheyenne,” she whispered fiercely, her eyes wide and glistening with fearful tears.
“Mom?” This is a dream. It has to be a dream. No way would she let me see her like this. Cheyenne stepped into the bedroom without meaning to. “Are you okay?”
“Cheyenne, help me.” Bianca started to tremble, her knuckles white with the fierceness of her grip on the quilt. “I won’t make it without you. Help me, Cheyenne.” She swallowed and looked desperately around her bedroom, her eyes flicking left and right as she panted. “You have to hurry.”
“I’m right here.” Cheyenne took another halting step toward her mother’s bed. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m begging you, Cheyenne. Help me. Right now. Come right now!”
The sudden buzz of Cheyenne’s cell phone on her bedside table jerked her out of the dream. Her eyes flew open, and she blinked in the darkness against the bright light behind the screen. “What the fuck kinda dream is that?”
Groaning, she rolled over beneath the sheets and slapped at her phone. It took her three tries before she picked it up and pulled it over to her. The single word on the screen woke her up the rest of the way: Home.
“Shit.” Cheyenne answered the call and propped the phone against her ear. “Hello?”
“Cheyenne, sweetheart.”
“Eleanor?”
“I’m so sorry to call you so late, but I didn’t know what else to do. Something’s very wrong.”
“Whoa, okay. Slow down a second.” Cheyenne pushed up off the pillows and gripped the phone tighter to be sure she didn’t drop it. “What happened?’
“It’s Bianca. Honestly, beyond the fact that it’s obviously bad, honey, I have no idea what to tell you.”
“Well, try, okay? Please?”
Eleanor took a shuddering breath. “At first I thoug
ht it was a seizure again, or a fever. Then these weird designs showed up. They’re on her skin, Cheyenne. There’s no way in hell I’m calling a human doctor to make a house call for something like this.”
“No, no. That’s probably not the best option.” Cheyenne blinked furiously and slapped her cheek to clear the cobwebs of sleep.
“Are you all right?”
“Just waking up. Is there anything else happening? With Mom?”
“Well, not that I can see, but I have a feeling that doesn’t really mean anything at this point. Cheyenne, I need you up here to tell me what to do. We need you.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.” Cheyenne threw the purple velvet bedspread off and swung her legs over the side of the canopy bed. “I’ll get there faster if I have Corian’s help.”
“Sweetheart, there were over a dozen magic people sitting at our table last night. I think we’re past the point of walking on eggshells when it comes to bringing them into the house again. Just get here as soon as you can.”
“Give me a few minutes. Thanks for calling, Eleanor.”
“Well, don’t thank me just yet. See you soon.”
Shit.
Chapter Eighty-Three
Practically launching herself out of bed, Cheyenne dialed Corian’s number, turned on speakerphone, and tossed her cell onto the bed as she darted to her black dresser.
He answered on the fifth ring.
“I normally don’t get much sleep, Cheyenne,” he croaked, “but you call me on the one night when—”
“Something’s wrong with Bianca.” She shook out a pair of relatively clean black jeans and slammed her pants drawer shut with her hip. “I need you to port me to her place.”
“What?” He cleared his throat. “What happened?”
“Weird designs on her skin, Corian. That’s straight from Eleanor. How much you wanna bet they’re O’gúl runes in the shape of that drow bitch’s curse?”
“I’ll be right there.” He hung up, and Cheyenne pulled on a blood-red shirt with black satin strips crossing the chest.
After she finished tugging on her clothes, she snatched a hair tie off her dresser, twirled her hair back into a loose bun, and grabbed her trenchcoat off the bench at the foot of the bed. Her phone went into her back pocket, keys jingling in her coat as she stormed out of the room. She didn’t bother to shut the door behind her.
“Em?” A low groan came from her Nós Aní’s bedroom. “I know it’s late, but I’m yelling ‘cause there’s something wrong with Bianca.”
“What?”
“I’m about to leave, so if you—”
Ember shrieked, and a gust of purple light flared beneath her bedroom door. Cheyenne raced to the fae’s room and flung open the door just as Ember found her voice again.
“What the fuck’s the matter with you, asshole?” Ember pointed at the door but glared at Corian, who was standing in the middle of her bedroom. Her other hand clutched her sheets to her chin.
The nightstalker shrugged. “Figured I’d make sure you both were awake.”
“Nobody gave you permission to pop into my personal space whenever you think it’s a fun fucking idea! Get out!” Ember waved her hand at him, and another burst of purple light propelled Corian backward through the doorway. The bedroom door slammed shut, and Corian staggered across the kitchen.
Cheyenne blinked at him. “You think you’re really cute, don’t you?”
“It was an honest intention to help us get moving a little faster, kid.” He rubbed his chest and grimaced. “A naked fae doesn’t interest me in the least under the best of circumstances.”
“Right. Good thing we don’t have a cat.”
Corian glared at her, then Ember’s door flew open again and cracked against the wall. She floated into the kitchen and flipped him the middle finger with both hands. “Don’t ever wake me up like that again.”
He dipped his head. “I’m sorry. Can we go now?”
Ember gestured for him to continue, and the nightstalker conjured a portal straight to the upstairs hallway of Bianca Summerlin’s house.
The French doors were open just like in her dream, and for a second, Cheyenne thought it was Bianca sitting up in the huge bed when she walked through the door. No, that’s Eleanor.
“We’re here.”
“Oh!” Eleanor jumped off the side of the bed and turned around, her hand tightly gripping Bianca’s pale, limp fingers. “That was fast.”
“Not something we can take our time with, huh? Sorry if I scared you.”
“Sweetheart, everything’s scaring me right now, and somehow, I’m still alive.” The housekeeper pulled Cheyenne into a fierce hug, then released her and swallowed thickly. “Take a look for yourself. I have no idea what to make of this, but maybe the three of you can put your heads together and figure something out. Is this everyone?”
“For now.” Corian nodded and stepped over to the unconscious Bianca, lying on the right side of the bed. “May I?”
“I should hope so.” Eleanor’s voice rose in volume and shrillness. “Otherwise, what would be the point?”
“It’s okay.” Cheyenne set a hand on the housekeeper’s shoulder as Corian approached her mom. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Oh, look at me.” Eleanor clasped her trembling hands together and clenched them hard. “Like a scared little girl.”
“You’re not running away screaming,” Ember added. “That gets you serious points.”
The woman chuckled weakly.
“Cheyenne.” Corian turned from Bianca’s side and nodded for the halfling to join him. “You need to see this.”
Shit. Cheyenne and Ember exchanged tense glances, then the halfling joined Corian at the bedside. “Do you know what’s happening?”
“Well, why don’t you tell me what it looks like?” He peeled back the top layer of the bedspread and the neckline of Bianca’s nightshirt.
Cheyenne grimaced. “Looks exactly like I expected, honestly. Only I didn’t think the O’gúl runes showing up on my mom’s skin would have a cattle-brand effect.”
Eleanor gasped behind her and covered her mouth with both hands.
“Sorry, Eleanor. I’m processing.”
The woman staggered back, reaching blindly behind her until she lowered herself into a satin-striped armchair the same color as the bedspread.
Ember joined the other magicals at the bedside and bit her lip as she studied the raw, blazing red runes growing darker and more pronounced across Bianca’s flesh. “So, what does this mean?”
Corian tapped his lips with his thumb and forefinger. “If I had to guess, I’d say—”
“Shit. What’s happening? Mom?” Cheyenne grabbed Bianca’s hand as the woman seized on the mattress. The halfling pressed her mom’s shoulders and collarbone down lightly, then grabbed her arm again and looked at Corian with frightened eyes. “Fix this!”
“I don’t—”
Ember shoved him aside and took his place beside the bed before pressing both hands on Bianca’s chest. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and focused as much of her healing magic as she could into Bianca Summerlin’s being.
Cheyenne’s mom jerked again, her head twitching from side to side, and small choking sounds spilling from her parted lips. Ember frowned and pressed harder against the woman’s chest before snatching her hands back with a hiss. “Ow!”
“What?” Cheyenne leaned over her mom. “Em, please start talking.”
“The invisible hot iron is apparently contagious.” Ember opened her hands to reveal fresh O’gúleesh symbols burned into her palms, but they faded within seconds. “But they only stick to her.”
“Wait.” Cheyenne peeled her mom’s silk nightshirt farther down along her collarbone and almost couldn’t find her breath. “Oh, fuck.”
Corian saw the new symbol appearing swiftly below Bianca’s collarbone. The four-pointed star magically branded into the woman’s flesh was streaked with black instead of red.
�
�Why is the Verdys bloodline’s symbol showing up on my mom’s body, Corian?”
“It’s another message, kid.”
“Meaning what?”
The nightstalker’s silver eyes darted over Bianca’s body. “We have to move. It has to be now.”
“Now is not the time for fucking riddles!” Cheyenne’s eyes flared with purple light as the Nimlothar seed bound to her lent its power to her fury.
He glanced quickly at her and bowed his head. “If you want to save your mother, Cheyenne, you’re making the crossing again. Now.”
“As in, the crossing straight into Hangivol?”
“The very one. Our two-week timeline has been shortened by a bit more than half. Let’s go.” Corian turned to summon a new portal.
“Shit.”
Ember smoothed the hair away from Bianca’s sweat-slickened forehead and closed her eyes again. “At least let me help her settle. Just a little peace and calm, right?”
“Yeah, Em.” Cheyenne looked at Eleanor, who leaned forward in the armchair with her fingers steepled against her lips. “Thanks.”
Golden light bloomed under Ember’s hand and seeped into and around Bianca’s face. The woman’s furrowed eyebrows and tightly clenched jaw relaxed, and her residual trembling ceased. “There you go.”
Ember stepped away from the bed, and Cheyenne grabbed her mom’s hand before leaning over the unconscious woman. She kissed Bianca’s cheek and whispered in her ear, “I’m gonna fix this, Mom. I promise. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“We need to go now.” Corian said it firmly, but he dipped his head and took a sharp breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I get it.” Cheyenne squeezed her mom’s hand a final time, then let her go and turned to the others. “Eleanor—”
“I’m not going anywhere.” The housekeeper shooed them off with both hands. “You have a job to do, sweetheart, and so do I. You’re not the only one who prides herself on not giving up.”
Cheyenne tried to smile, felt the grimace on her lips instead, and gave up. “We’ll be back soon. Couple days at the most.”
“And after that,” Corian added, “you should see a marked improvement. Take care.” He gestured at the newly opened portal.