Before the halfling could turn around and ask if the asshole was expecting friends tonight, a girl stepped through the door. She couldn’t have been older than seventeen and was dressed in all black, with more than one ring on each of her fingers. Half of her head was shaved, the hair on the other half falling just below her chin, and if Cheyenne didn’t know better, she would’ve said she was staring at a fifteen-year-old version of herself. The girl closed the door behind her, her pale face with too much makeup lit up by the glow of her cell phone screen. “Uncle Durg. I’m home.”
She shoved her phone into the back pocket of her skintight black leather pants, then pulled a ring off her thumb. The air shimmered around her, and the Goth teenager standing in the front hallway was now a green-skinned orc teenager, and the Goth part was extra. “Uncle Durg?”
Cheyenne cocked her head when the girl finally looked into the living room, pocketing the ring as well. The young orc froze, taking in the smashed bookshelf, her rattled uncle on the floor, and the scowling drow standing in her living room. “Uh, what’s going on?”
“Hey.” The halfling smiled and spread her arms. “Your uncle and I were just having a little chat. Trying to clear up a misunderstanding from a couple of weeks ago.”
Durg huffed behind her but didn’t argue.
Cheyenne turned again and pointed at him. “You better start behaving, my friend. No more shakedowns, got it?”
He glared at her, his yellow eyes burning.
“Trust me, Durg, I’ll know if you try to slide anything by without me noticing. See ya soon.” With that, the drow halfling stalked across the living room and raised her eyebrows at the Goth orc who was shooting back the same deadpan stare. The girl stepped aside to give Cheyenne plenty of room to get to the door. Cheyenne swept her gaze over the teenager and nodded. “Looks good on you.”
“Uh-huh.”
The halfling’s gaze landed on the massive metal skull painted black and silver; it dangled at the end of a black satin ribbon tied around the orc’s neck. “Nice skull.”
“Nice jacket.”
Cheyenne jerked her chin at the girl, then opened the door and stepped back out into the crisp September night. The door closed behind her as she reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to the porch. She couldn’t help but smirk as she headed back down the dark street with an extra bounce in her step.
“Everything comes with a price.” Bianca Summerlin had drilled it into her daughter from the very beginning, and the saying kept popping up in Cheyenne’s mind.
Guess the price this time was an epic fight with revenge at the end. Worth it.
She hadn’t expected to feel this good about letting Durg off as easily as she had. Maybe that was part of what Bianca had meant. Even revenge had a price, and if she’d paid it, she never would’ve figured out what those damn bull’s-head pendants meant.
Chapter Eleven
Cheyenne checked her phone as she walked down the hall toward her apartment. Only ten-thirty. Productive night. She pulled her keyring from the pocket of her black canvas jacket and stuck the key in the lock. When she opened the door, she almost leaped back out into the hall again.
The copper drow puzzle box had freed itself from her backpack and lay right on the carpet in front of her. Not where I left you.
She shut the door quickly, then nudged the box across the floor with her foot. It rolled a little on its edges and came to a stop beside her backpack again. Corian wants me to haul this thing back across town. Not with a bunch of O’gúleesh loyalists hunting me.
Rolling her eyes, she kicked off her black Vans and headed back into the hall. Raising both arms high above her head, she gave a massive yawn and shuffled into her bedroom. “Like a Nightstalker knows anything about drow legacies.”
The halfling scratched her right shoulder and stopped. With a snort, she pulled the shirt away from her shoulder and ripped off the gauze bandage she’d been wearing all day like an idiot. The gauze and extra tape fluttered to the floor, then she stripped down and climbed into bed with her cell phone, set her alarm, and stuck it on the bedside table. She took one more look at her shoulder, rubbing the smooth, healed skin with a smile. Best thing that drow bastard ever did for me. Probably won’t be able to top it.
Pushing aside her thoughts of L’zar Verdys, Cheyenne climbed under the sheets and her comforter with the giant skull sprawling across the center and snuggled down. Finally, a good night’s sleep. She yawned again and buried her head in the pillow.
Another crazy dream filled her head that night, and Cheyenne knew from the beginning it was just a dream. That didn’t make it any less vivid or any less terrifying.
She was walking down a cold, dark corridor of black stone. This wasn’t anything like the damp walls of the Dungeon at Chateau D’rahl. The stone had been cut and laid with skill and was worn by time. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever until she was suddenly at the end of it, looking into a huge circular room of the same black stone with high, vaulted ceilings. It was even colder.
Blood splattered the black walls everywhere she looked. Every few feet, long, thin, frayed banners spilled down the walls toward the floor. They fluttered in the freezing draft kicking up from all directions. Then the halfling noticed the floor.
It was littered with bodies of all different sizes strewn in the positions they’d been standing in when they’d been struck down. She didn’t recognize the clothing—loose, flowing things frayed like the banners and soaked with blood, only the blood on their clothes glistened in the light of
