Chapter Nine
She chose to walk from her apartment on the southeast end of the VCU campus. It was more than enough time to get herself all amped up for kicking some orc ass, and the crisp night air of late September helped her focus her energy. A lot harder to find me later if no one sees me get out of my car.
East Clay Street was crowded as usual, even on a Sunday night. The bars were full, the music playing so loud she heard five different songs at once, and no one paid much attention to the Goth chick on a mission stalking through Jackson Ward. Then she found herself on the same route Ember had taken from the bar two weeks ago to the skatepark. A new swell of rage burned through her when she walked down the street beside the park and caught a glimpse of the skatepark at the other end. The city had repaired the shredded chain-link fence she’d ripped apart with her magic after her first round of going full drow berserker in front of everyone.
Wonder if they got the blood out yet.
Cheyenne walked around the park, heading toward the northwest side tonight instead. Durg’s house was close to the park.
Ten minutes later, she found herself on Durg’s street, just where she was supposed to be. The streetlights were on, casting halos of dim light across the asphalt and the sidewalks around them. Dim enough not to put a drow halfling in the spotlight, at least.
She pulled out her phone and double-checked where she was on the GPS. The house she wanted was another block down. The halfling headed that way, forcing her drow power down until she was really ready to use it. No accidental magic tonight. No failures.
When she stopped in front of the house just beside Durg’s, she almost laughed. Not that she’d expected a rotting, crumbling shack like Q’orr’s, but this just looked like every other two-story family home on the street, except for where the trees had been planted and the length of the grass in each lawn. Durg’s house was pale-blue, almost green in the glow of the streetlamps.
With a final glance up and down the street, Cheyenne let her drow magic take over. It bloomed at the base of her spine and traveled up, filling her from head to toe as she made the transformation in a second. Then she stalked down the sidewalk past just one more house and moved quietly up the steps. This is it. Cover your bases.
Cheyenne pressed her hand against the pale-blue siding beside the front door and closed her eyes. The image of Durg’s house shimmered in her mind’s eye—the hallway, kitchen, staircase in the back, three bedrooms upstairs. And there in the front living room was the glowing green outline of an orcish shape sitting on the damn couch with his feet propped up on a low table.
Removing her hand, the halfling forced herself not to punch through the door when she knocked. A loud grunt rose from inside, followed by the lumbering footsteps of a magical who had no idea what was coming for him. The lock turned in the doorknob, then a deadbolt slid aside and the door opened.
“What the—”
She slammed her fist against the door, sending it swinging back against the wall with a bang. Purple sparks flared at her fingertips, and she tossed them at Durg’s shoulder to make it clear she meant business.
The door’s frame splintered when she slammed it closed behind her. The orc staggered backward, clutching his fried shoulder, and snarled, “You!”
“Well, at least you recognize me.” A black orb of crackling energy churned in the palm of her hand, and she stalked across the hallway toward him. “What about the girl you shot and left for dead? You remember her too?”
“What are you, nuts?” Spit flew from Durg’s mouth as he stumbled sideways out of the hallway and into the living room. “This is my fucking house! You can’t just walk in and—”
“Hey, you answered the door. Now you’re gonna answer my questions.” Cheyenne launched the energy ball over his shoulder, missing him on purpose. Her magic crashed against the far wall of the living room, taking down a shelf filled with metal knickknacks and books. I’m gonna make this good.
Durg ducked anyway and whirled to see the damage before scrambling back into the living room. “What do you want?”
“I already told you,” she spat. “I’m talking about Ember. In the group of halflings you and your lowlife friends met at the skatepark two weeks ago. You shot her and ran away the minute things got bumpy. Do you remember?”
“Yeah, I fucking remember. The goddamn human running around with halflings. Blonde hair. I remember!” He tripped over the edge of the rug beneath his coffee table and managed not to fall on it. “Why do you care so much about that Earthside piece of—”
“She’s not a human, Durg. And even if she was, you need to be stopped.”
The orc’s glowing yellow eyes grew wide, then he lunged for the side table next to the couch. His fingers fumbled at the drawer before he pulled out a handgun and leveled it at her.
With a roar, Cheyenne launched black tendrils of magic from her fingertips and slapped the gun out of his thick, meaty green hands. It clattered to the floor out of his reach, and Durg stepped back against the couch. “What the hell are you doing with a gun? Trying to make up for shooting magical blanks?”
Durg snarled again and summoned a ball of green magic in his hand. “At least I can hit what I’m aiming for at close range.”
“Oh, no, I was aiming for your bookshelf.” She conjured another
