“Great. We brought in a half-drow with only half her sanity in check.”
“That’s the only kind you want, human.”
“As long as you keep your head in the game on this one, I don’t care how crazy or sane you are.”
“Sure, you don’t.”
Chapter Eighty
Ten minutes later, Rhynehart’s black Jeep was at the front of a line of other black FRoE vehicles moving silently through Manchester. Cheyenne counted two large black vans behind them in the side mirror, but who knew how many more were gearing up to take this place down?
The Jeep pulled up to the curb, and Rhynehart pointed at what looked like an old brick church ahead of them. “It’s up there on the right. Guess the people who used this church before built themselves a new one outside of town, and nobody wanted the leftovers.”
“They just abandoned an old church?”
“Or these thugs pitched in together to buy the thing. Who gives a shit how they got it? They’re in there. Come on.”
Seatbelts unbuckled, doors opened and closed. Cheyenne didn’t realize she’d been trying to shut hers quietly until she opened it one more time and tried again.
Rhynehart opened the horizontal door at the back of the Jeep and rummaged around in the back. “What’s wrong with you, rookie?”
“That’s a loaded question.” Cheyenne eyed the stone church two buildings down, which still seemed abandoned to her, and stepped toward the operative. “Any of you think it’s a little weird to be rolling up in full FRoE SWAT gear at the start of Friday rush-hour traffic?”
The man slipped one of those thick, black dampening vests over his head, thumped the chest, then pulled on huge gloves of the same material. “Not our job to worry about what we look like.” He spared her a quick glance and shrugged. “Didn’t think that was high on your priority list, either.”
“Thanks, asshole. I’m not talking about me or your gung-ho outfit. I mean, what if people see us running into a church? Your guys brought a lot of guns, and that place is gonna light up with magic once you shoot first and ask questions later.”
“We, halfling. You’re coming too. And the idiots in that church didn’t choose the place for sentimental reasons. You see anybody else walking around out here?”
Cheyenne glanced down the street, which had some closed storefronts and what might have been an old house turned into a rental of three or four apartments. “I’ve seen regular humans in places they weren’t supposed to be. Like today. And I almost tore the poor sucker’s head off.”
“But you didn’t. So what? We have people to deal with that kind of thing if it happens. Not our department. Not our problem.” Rhynehart slipped on the weird black helmet that made him look like he was gearing up for a fencing match and closed the back of the Jeep. He stepped onto the sidewalk next to Cheyenne and stuck his fist out like he was about to punch her in the shoulder, then remembered how bad an idea that had been the last time he’d tried it. He smashed the gloved fist into his other hand and nodded. “Let’s go.”
With a quick signal toward the other FRoE operatives from the vans behind them—who all had their gear on and ready to go, including those huge fell rifles like the one Rhynehart had used totest their new half-drow asset—Rhynehart led the team down the sidewalk toward the church. Cheyenne kept pace beside him, glancing at the buildings around them just in case there was somebody watching.
If they are, they’re about to get the show of a lifetime.
Rhynehart signaled for the team to stop in front of the stone steps leading up to the church’s front door. Cheyenne smacked the back of her hand against his dampening vest and muttered, “Wait a second.”
“We already got all the intel we need on what’s going on in there, rookie.” His voice was muffled through the helmet. “You’re holding us up.”
“You have any idea how many of them are in there right now?”
“No. We don’t have an exact headcount.”
“Would you like one?”
Rhynehart jerked off his helmet and tucked it under his arm to stare at her without a mask between them. “You telling me that’s one more thing on your list of tricks?”
“Yeah.” The halfling folded her arms. “You brought a drow halfling with you, man. Might as well use her, right?”
He hissed out a sigh, closed his eyes, then shrugged and gestured toward the stone steps. “Make it quick. And make sure they don’t know you’re there.”
“You know what? If you hadn’t driven me here, you wouldn’t even know I was here.” Cheyenne spread her arms and walked backward toward the front of the church. Rhynehart tried not to smile, which made her turn around so he wouldn’t see her grin.
Her feet moved swiftly and soundlessly up the stone steps. Cheyenne could make herself nearly invisible and completely unheard when she wanted. A childhood spent in the middle of nowhere in Henry County had made her really good at it. When she reached the top step, she paused in front of the wooden double doors with thick iron rings instead of handles. A quick release of her drow magic sent the heat bursting up from the base of her spine and across her shoulders, then she pressed a purple-gray hand lightly against the stone wall and closed her eyes.
She must’ve been getting better at using this ability on command. The colored silhouettes of about a dozen magicals appeared in her mind’s eye. Green for the orcs, purple for trolls, blue goblins, and a dark-orange outline that made her think of Gúrdu’s eyes.
After a moment, Cheyenne figured she’d seen enough and removed her hand. Then she leapt off the front landing and landed silently in front
