Shyhand71: Be there in 20.
She closed out of the chat, got off the dark web, and shut down her VPN. Glen, though, stayed powered on. “Gotta keep you warmed up. When I get back, I’m checking to make sure every single kid is back where they belong.”
The halfling grabbed her backpack and stuffed the copper legacy box inside. It didn’t flash or grow warm or give her any indication that it had anything planned for her tonight. Not yet, anyway.
Before she left her apartment, she stripped the last paper towel off the roll on the counter, soaked it, and took it with her. The mostly smeared blood on the outside of her front door had dried to a dark-brown stain, which made it that much harder to scrub off. When it looked like all the other crummy, unmentionable stains on her apartment walls and in the hallway, Cheyenne shrugged and called it good. I just keep learning how to blend in, don’t I?
With everything locked up, she hurried down the hall toward the staircase. The thought of getting behind the wheel of her Panamera again made her smile.
The Panamera rolled silently down the street toward the house. For the first time since she’d tracked Corian down after his ridiculous scavenger hunt, there was someone standing out on the lawn in front of the house. “Who the hell just stands out—oh. Great.”
Her bright, clear headlights flashed over Corian standing on the grass, his human illusion back up and his human-looking arms folded. The halfling turned off the radio, but her chest still buzzed from the deep bass she’d adjusted in the souped-up sound system. She sat there longer than she had to, waiting to see if the Nightstalker would act on his anger before she had a chance to do or say anything. He didn’t move.
“This’ll be fun. Not.” She turned off the car before grabbing her backpack. Then she stepped out and quietly shut the door. Even the doors are in stealth mode. Love it.
Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she locked the car with the keyless fob, grinning again at the expensive-sounding chirp as she slipped the fob into her back pocket.
Corian tilted his head. “If you’re trying to keep a low profile, kid, your new ride’s not helping.”
“Hey, I gave myself a well-deserved bonus, okay? I needed a new car, and this one happened to be right in front of me.” After I stormed through the showroom at the dealership. Call it destiny.
“What happened to your old car?”
Cheyenne blinked at him as she stepped up onto the sidewalk. “Totaled.”
Corian raised an eyebrow and turned his head toward her, though his eyes remained on the shiny black Panamera. “Please tell me you didn’t do something stupid like run a red light or try to drag race in a beat-up Focus.”
She snorted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom.” The Nightstalker finally spared her a cynical glance from the corner of his eye. “I’m a great driver. Never been in an accident. Including today.”
“Congratulations.”
Cheyenne shot him a deadpan stare. “If I told you that another of those O’gúl loyalists wearing that stupid bull’s head—and looking like a human—blew up my old car with a non-magical bomb, would it get you to cheer up a little and quit holding a grudge?”
Corian’s eyes widened when he turned to face her, and his gaze darted up and down the street. “We should be having this conversation inside.”
“By all means. Lead the way.” The halfling gave him a mocking little bow and gestured toward the side of the house and the stairwell leading down to Apartment D.
With one more glance around the dark, quiet, empty row of rental units, the Nightstalker headed across the grass toward the stairs. Cheyenne followed, and they didn’t say another word until Corian had removed the wards from the metal front door and they were both safely inside his empty, unfinished single room.
After he closed the door behind the half-drow, Corian’s fingers moved in quick, precise gestures, and the orange light flared up around the inside of his door again. “What did he look like?”
“A human who just broke out of a mental hospital.”
Clearing his throat, the Nightstalker smoothed down the front of his charcoal-gray sweater and headed across the room toward another circle of candles arranged in the center of the floor. “And the bomb didn’t have any magic involved?”
“Not that I could tell. Just a good old-fashioned homemade.” Cheyenne chewed the inside of her bottom lip, waiting for her newest mentor to say something else. Corian just stared at the circle of candles. “He told me I don’t belong here. That she’s calling me back, whatever that means.”
She didn’t think it was possible for the Nightstalker’s back to stiffen any more, but it did.
“Did he say anything else?” The words came out as a low, warning growl.
The halfling shrugged. “Something about blood.”
“Blood bonds with blood.”
“So, you do know why these assholes are coming after me.” Her fingers tightened around the straps of her backpack. “Now would be a great time to let me in on the secret everyone knows but me.”
“I already told you, Cheyenne. When you’re ready to know the truth of things, you will.” The Nightstalker’s fingers moved quickly at his side, and he dropped his illusion spell. It gave him a few more inches in height, the sweater hugged him tighter, and the pointy, catlike ears emerged from beneath his short, mussed hair. “Until then, it’s too dangerous to go down that road.”
“Dangerous for who?”
Corian turned around and fixed her with those glowing silver eyes in his feline face. “Everyone. Mostly you.”
“Really? ‘Cause at that mansion yesterday, it sounded like you were a hell of a lot more worried about saving your own skin.” Cheyenne gritted her teeth when the usual flare of her drow magic didn’t appear with the heat of her anger. Still weird.
“If you just came here to point fingers
