Q’orr blubbered something incomprehensible and there was a loud thud, then everything fell silent. The FRoE operative waited for signs of life from the dilapidated house. After a moment, he came forward, and stopped when a shadow passed the empty doorway.
There she was, her bone-white hair scattered in a wild array around her face. Blakely, as he’d come to think of her, had a small limp as she staggered out of their target’s house. Her left arm stretched behind her, and Rhynehart caught a glimpse of those flaring black tendrils stretched taut between her fingers and something else that thumped against the wall.
The drow halfling gave a sharp tug on the black tendrils. The house creaked, then a section of the wall beside the door burst outward, crumbling before the thing on the other end of the halfling’s magical leash emerged.
It was Q’orr, unconscious and trussed up like a wild hog in the half-drow’s magic. The wrinkled orange-brown magical thumped across the small concrete square of his front porch and didn’t slow the halfling down one bit as she stalked across the charred, cratered earth. Pieces of the wall fell from the hole his body had made.
Cheyenne dragged Q’orr to Rhynehart’s feet, then released her spell. The unconscious magical’s head rolled to the side across the brittle black grass. Rhynehart stared at their target, then blinked at the half-drow with wide eyes.
“Yeah, he’s still breathing,” Cheyenne muttered. “Unfortunately.”
It took a moment for the FRoE operative to find his voice again, and the halfling used that time to bring all her focus and her exhausted rage back to center.
Like I said, I’ve never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. Now…think of the deer.
It was incredibly easy to slip out of her drow form and into her regular human-Goth-chick mask. She released a heavy sigh and opened her eyes
“Huh.” Rhynehart glanced at Q’orr. “Have anything to tie him up with?”
“You didn’t bring anything?”
“This was all you, halfling. I’m here for moral support.”
Cheyenne waved absently at Q’orr’s house behind her. “There’s probably something in there that’ll work. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Yeah, I bet you will.”
Fighting a smile, Rhynehart headed for the house to look for some string or rope or a bedsheet he could use to secure the unconscious magical. The operative didn’t get two yards toward the house before the whole thing shifted sideways. The wall beside the ruined doorway buckled, then the entire roof crashed down at an angle. Everything that had held up this long under the harsh conditions gave way, and the demolished house sent up a puff of thick black dust.
Rhynehart turned and clapped his gloved hands. “Guess I’ll call it in, and they can pick him up here.”
“Brilliant plan,” Cheyenne muttered, glaring at Q’orr’s limp form at her feet. “You do that. I’ll stand guard over this asshole.”
Pulling his phone out of his back pocket, Rhynehart smirked at Cheyenne. He thumbed one key and pressed the phone to his ear. Before they answered, he muttered, “Nice work, rookie.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
The back of one of those military utility vehicles covered in the tan tarp wasn’t nearly as interesting as Cheyenne had hoped. It was basically a truck bed with high walls and a roof that fluttered as it drove them across the same stretch of land three times until they returned to Q1.
The vehicle bumped and jostled its passengers in the back. Cheyenne sat against the wall with her feet flat on the bed and her knees pulled up to her chest. Rhynehart leaned against the opposite side. Q’orr sprawled between them, his hands bound behind his back by a pair of dampening handcuffs from one of Rez 38’s guards. The wrinkled orange-brown magical still hadn’t regained consciousness and probably wouldn’t for some time.
Rhynehart studied the drow halfling across from him as they wobbled from side to side in the back of the vehicle. “We’ll get someone to take a look at your shoulder once we book this scumbag.”
Cheyenne glanced at the open sores on her bare shoulder where Q’orr’s oozing black sludge had burned holes into her flesh. “It’s still attached, so I think I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know what the hell that stuff was, Blakely. Someone’s gonna take a look at it, and it’s better if we do that here where there’s a hospital specifically for magicals.”
“Fine.” Cheyenne set her head back against the wall of the utility vehicle and closed her eyes. The lurch in her gut as the vehicle crossed from Q3 to Q2 was unmistakable.
Rhynehart chuckled. “You’re not nearly as raw as I thought.”
When the half-drow opened her eyes, she saw him smirking at her. “You’re not the first person who’s never trained a drow halfling to take a shot with me.”
“Oh, yeah?” The man cocked his head. “You’ve had a trainer before me?”
“I’m not calling you my trainer, Rhynehart, so keep your pants on. But yeah. I’ve had someone else show me stuff.”
“Not another drow, was it?” The man draped his forearms over his raised knees and leaned forward.
Cheyenne scoffed. “Not close.”
The utility vehicle went over something that felt like a pothole and lurched with a violent rumble. The half-drow’s back and wounded shoulder slammed against the metal wall and she hissed in a sharp breath, her eyes clenched tight in pain and irritation.
She grunted when the vehicle rocked again and grabbed her right arm for a better look at her still-burning shoulder. “Some magical who looks like a cat when she drops her illusion spell. Jesus, whatever hit me doesn’t quit.”
Rhynehart narrowed his eyes at her and rubbed the side of his face. “Still think you don’t need a healer?”
“I’d let you patch me up right now if I believed for a second you knew what you were doing.” She’d said it in irritation, but the FRoE operative chuckled, her words bringing a small smile to his lips. “Yeah, you heard me.”
“Good thing
