“Gross.” After trying to air out her long-sleeved shirt, she dropped her hands onto the bed. “Like that’s gonna work.”
Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she woke the screen and blinked at the time. Seven fifty-two. Is that...yep. Eleven hours of sleep.
The halfling ran a hand through her sweat-soaked hair and scratched her head a little. Then she slid off the bed and went to the window. The blackout curtains rustled when she swept them aside. Morning sunlight spilled into her room, and she jerked her head away with a groan. Good thing my class schedule changed.
Her hand rose to the Heart of Midnight pendant, which was resting a little higher on her breastbone now that she’d tied so many knots in the repeatedly broken silver chain. Looks like this thing’s starting to wear off. Not so great for trying to lay low.
Cheyenne pulled the blackout curtain over the window again, rolled her shoulders, and nodded. A small, pulsing ache rose from her left ankle, and she stuck out her foot to look down at the puncture marks around the hem of her pantleg. Should’ve looked at that sooner.
Grimacing, the halfling went back to her backpack on the floor, sat beside it, and pulled out the brown glass jar of healing salve Yadje had given her. When she rolled up her pantleg, she sucked in a hissing breath and studied the half-dozen round punctures encircling her ankle. “Ugh. Could be worse, I guess.”
She bent her knee to pull her ankle closer as she gave the jar’s lid a quick twist. The sharp smell of rotting strawberries blasted her in the face, making her nostrils flare. Anything less than a knife wound, huh? I’m trusting you, R’mahr.
The white salve was thick and sticky, stretching like taffy when she scooped out the first bit with her fingers. “Great. Like putting Persh’al’s mohawk gel on a magical monster bite.” She snorted, got the stringy goo to separate, and dabbed a little onto the first puncture.
An icy jolt shot through her ankle, followed by a searing heat that flared all the way to the tips of her toes. Cheyenne sucked in a sharp breath and thumped her fist on the polished wooden floor beneath her. “Shit.”
With watering eyes, she squinted at her ankle and leaned forward for a better look. The agonizing burn subsided a little, and the puncture wound sealed itself from the inside out, closing up muscle and split skin until there was nothing left but flakes of dried blood. A low chuckle of surprise escaped her. “Oh, shit.”
The halfling stared at the glob of white goo on the tips of her fingers and grinned. “This is gonna suck.”
She transferred a bit into her other hand, rubbed her fingers together, then breathed deeply and smeared the salve over the other puncture wounds encircling her ankle. Clenching her teeth, she grunted and threw her head back to grimace at the ceiling while the salve burned through her leg and five more wounds. The halfling beat the floor with the heel of her fist, forcing herself to breathe through it and count. Twenty seconds, then the pain subsided enough for her to lean forward and watch the other five holes seal up around her ankle.
Just to be sure, she ran her fingers along the perfectly smooth healed skin, then dusted off flakes of dried blood. Just like that. Damn. I’d take a black-magic potion to the shoulder over that any day.
Cheyenne snorted, then a sharp laugh escaped her. When she imagined herself stuffing those two holes in her shoulder with darktongue salve from a socially confused troll, the halfling doubled over and howled with laughter. Here I am. Finally lost my mind.
It took her another minute to calm down, then she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes with the back of a hand and sniffed. Another chuckle escaped her, and the fully healed drow halfling shook her head before closing the jar. “Hell of a way to start the day. Jesus.”
She stood, absently wiped the last of the sticky salve on her pantlegs, then opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the apartment.
“Someone’s in a better mood,” Ember called from the kitchen. The halfling peered across the apartment, squinting with heavy eyelids until the fae wheeled around the island with a grin.
“Took a lot to get there.”
“Bet you slept like a rock, huh?”
“Just until the end.” Cheyenne cleared her throat. “Sorry I wasn’t up to help you with...whatever.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Ember spread her arms and glanced around the apartment. “I obviously needed you.”
“Ha-ha.” Walking toward her friend, the halfling blinked heavily and took a deep sniff. “And you made coffee.”
“Best part of waking up, right? This stuff’s supposed to be killer.” Ember sniggered and lifted the heavy-duty thermal coffee mug from where she’d wedged it in her lap. “Just finished brewing, if you want some.”
“Yeah, I do.” When Cheyenne reached the kitchen, she smirked as Ember expertly spun her wheelchair to follow the halfling toward the counter. “Man, just the smell is getting me caffeinated.”
“That’s nothing.”
The half-drow glanced at the bag of coffee sitting beside the coffeemaker—black with a white skull and crossbones in the center and the bold-text brand name scrawled across the top. Just to be sure, she picked up the bag and studied it at a closer angle. “Death Wish Coffee, huh?”
“I said it was killer.”
Cheyenne chuckled. “This is my kinda coffee. You find this stuff online to match my Goth box?”
“Uh, no, actually.” Ember lifted the coffee mug to her lips and took an unusually long slurp from the hole in the lid. “Matthew brought it over.”
The coffee bag thumped back onto the counter. “Of course he did.”
“His only condition for offering a friendly one-pound bag of neighborly coffee was that I convince you to try it.”
Cheyenne squinted at
