Now she just had to figure out where to dump him and fast. Her first class started in forty minutes.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
The city landfill seemed like as good a place as any to ditch an unconscious orc. Cheyenne had left her car out here the night she’d gone into the event center looking for Durg and ended up crashing a huge FRoE sting operation.
Getting the orc out of the back seat was a little easier, at least after she got a good grip on his shirt again after fumbling around his face. He thumped out onto the asphalt, and she dragged him back toward the landfill gates, which were open for normal working hours on a Friday. Piles of stacked boxes crunched beneath the unseen weight when she tossed the orc inside, then she dusted off her hands and took another look around.
Something scurried through a pile of garbage, then a three-foot-tall man in a bright-orange tracksuit with a matching orange beard and rust-red skin stumbled out from between two stacks of old tires. He blinked at Cheyenne as if he’d broken into her house, then glanced urgently around for a place to hide.
“It’s okay. If you don’t have an illusion spell, we’re still cool.” The halfling patted the armband, grateful for the gift from a troll family on the verge of worshipping her. “This one’s just on loan. Gotta get my own one of these.”
Her new red friend nodded quickly, then scanned the entrance to the landfill and noticed the unconscious orc, who was now shimmering back into visibility on the pile of boxes. “Taking out the magical trash, huh?” he squeaked.
“Yeah, recycling wouldn’t take him.”
The next car shooting down the frontage road made the orange-bearded man freeze. He darted into the piles of trash again, snatching an old broken toaster and taking it with him. The frayed cord whipped along the ground behind him before disappearing into the shadows.
When she got back to her car, it was already 8:11. Hissing out a sigh, the halfling started her car and drove it another block down the freeway, just so the orc wouldn’t see it when he woke up in the landfill. Then she got out with her backpack, locked the car this time, and pulled out her phone. Her stomach let out another morning growl, and she slapped it. Later.
With a groan, she tucked both her phone and her keys into the pockets of her black pants, shook out her hands with a jingle of the chains around her wrists, and stretched her neck from side to side. Guess there’s a first time for everything. Like running to school.
She took off in a flash down the freeway, followed by a loud crack and loose trash trailing after her. It wasn’t that long a run, but the halfling wasn’t in the best shape, especially after her injuries yesterday and the impromptu ass-kicking in her neighbors’ apartment. Still, she only had to stop once between the landfill and the VCU campus to catch her breath, and then she was off again.
Running at near-supersonic speeds got a little trickier on campus, with thousands of college students milling around, trying to get to their classes on time. She slowed down just around the corner from the entrance to the Computer Sciences building, hoping she’d timed it right and there wasn’t anyone close enough to freak out when a Goth chick with a weird armband suddenly materialized out of nowhere.
Fortunately, she was alone on that side of the building. Unfortunately, the sound of her dropping back into normal speeds didn’t go nearly as unnoticed. A harsh crack echoed between the buildings and sent a shockwave of dirt, leaves, and gusting air out onto the walkway. A few students got caught by the force of it and stumbled sideways, blown off course. Someone screamed. Other people shouted in surprise, and Cheyenne’s enhanced hearing picked up on a muttered squeak: “Attack.”
Whoops. Probably could’ve thought that one through a little better.
She stepped out from around the side of the building and hurried quickly toward the front doors, ignoring the chaos and panic as other students shouted at each other and scattered away from her. None of them knew what the crack and the shockwave had really come from, and Cheyenne didn’t have the time to try calming them down.
Clearing her throat, she jerked the door and slipped inside, hurrying the rest of the way to her first class. When she got there, the clock hanging over the desk at the back of the room said it was 8:29 a.m.
The rest of the students in her Advanced Social Network Analysis and Security class were already in their seats, laptops and notebooks out in front of them. The halfling went right to her self-designated place on the far left side of the elevated rows of seats and slipped into the chair on the end.
Professor Hersh glanced up at her from the stack of papers he was shuffling around on the desk. His thick jowls wiggled a little as he glared at her. “Good to see you figured out how to show up on time. Though you might wanna pick up a hairbrush. Looks like you fell out of the sky on your way here.”
He’s just jealous that I have hair.
The halfling just raised her eyebrows at him, folded her arms, and sank into her regular position for bearing through another obnoxiously boring class. Hersh liked to hear himself talk more than any of them, so she was clear to zone out.
“I expect no more interruptions once we start,” Hersh added, having to get the last word in even though Cheyenne hadn’t said a thing.
She gritted her teeth and flexed her hand beneath her folded arms. A few purple sparks flared at her fingertips, which she immediately snuffed out. With a deep breath, she forced her drow magic to settle back down
