“Back up, rookie,” Rhynehart growled, glaring at the goblin woman at the end of his weapon.
“She’s telling the truth, Rhynehart.”
“I didn’t bring you here to fight me on this. Back up!”
“Get that thing out of her face!” The halfling summoned her sparks in both purple-gray hands, her eyes glowing gold with rage and warning.
In the blink of an eye, Rhynehart jerked the gun away from Anasz, lowered it, and pointed at the drow halfling, who now looked full drow. “Watch it.”
“Are you serious?” Cheyenne glared at him, the sparks hissing and cracking at her fingertips. She didn’t look away from Rhynehart’s fierce gaze, but she saw Jamal just standing there and staring at them both from the corner of her eye. She’d hear him before he made a single move.
“Don’t make me turn this gun on you, halfling. I will.”
“You know I can dodge bullets, asshole.”
“Not at this range.”
“And you saw what I did to that stupid bazooka when you turned that on me. Breaking your arm won’t be nearly as hard.”
Rhynehart studied her face, sneered at her with a little puff of amusement through his nose, and stepped back. He lifted the fell pistol again, but turned it around in his hand and offered her the grip instead. “You do it.”
She blinked. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the gun, but the purple sparks in her hands disappeared. “You’re insane.”
“I’m doing my job, rookie. I’m following orders. If you want us to keep up our end of the deal, you’ll follow orders too.”
It took everything she had not to slap the gun out of his hand and send him flying across the goblin’s dining room. “I’m telling you, Rhynehart, she wasn’t involved in any of that crap.”
“Oh, yeah? You have some kind of information I don’t?”
“No, but I can hear her heart beating so fast that she’s on the verge of passing out. Trust me, that’s not the way anyone’s pulse sounds when they’re lying. It’s in her voice, too. Maybe it’s time for you to consider you got the wrong information.”
Rhynehart bit his lower lip, then shrugged. “Maybe. But this goblin isn’t innocent. She’s still breaking the rules.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’ve already got her on another little side business she’s been handling from the back of her bakery. Isn’t that right, Anasz?”
The goblin woman had stopped rocking and whispering in that unknown language sometime after Rhynehart had turned his weapon on her. When he looked at her now, she let out a sob.
“This one’s been dealing potions on the side. To anyone. Magicals, humans—it doesn’t matter. Some of her regulars think she’s a goddamn witch, don’t they?”
Anasz’s gaze darted between the FRoE operative and the glowering drow halfling, who were in a standoff. The goblin’s heartbeat slowed a little, but now it was erratic, speeding up and slowing down as she huffed out one breath after the other in little bursts. “Can you hear the difference in that, halfling?” Rhynehart raised an eyebrow. “Not completely innocent.”
Cheyenne shot the goblin woman a quick glance, then shook her head. “Is she hurting anyone?”
“Probably not, no. From what I hear, it’s mostly love potions and cold remedies. Pretty harmless, and her human clients can’t seem to get enough.”
“Then what’s the problem?” The halfling forced herself not to scream at the guy like he’d screamed at Anasz. “If she’s not hurting anyone, why is this a big deal? Sounds like she’s helping people.”
“That’s not the point.” The agent took another step away from the chair and pointed at his target tied and handcuffed to it. “This is part of what we do too, rookie. Call it law enforcement. Selling magic of any kind to humans goes against the Accord, and we can’t have random magicals breaking the Accord whenever they feel like it, whether they’re dangerous or not.”
“Then slap her with a fine or something. Jesus.” Cheyenne shot the goblin a sympathetic glance. “This is way over the top. We should be talking to someone who’s dangerous, not wasting our time on love potions.”
“Not my call to make.” Rhynehart extended the grip of his fell pistol toward the halfling one more time and nodded. “And this is part of the deal. You do what you’re told, and then you get what you want. Take the weapon.”
Cheyenne finally let herself glance at the fell pistol in the man’s hand, which was still letting out that whining buzz and pulsing slowly with green light. Should’ve listened to Mattie when she told me not to mess with these people.
“Take the weapon, rookie. Do your part.”
Slowly, the halfling lifted her burning gaze to meet his and gave him her final answer. “Fuck you.”
Chapter Ninety-One
Without looking away from the half-drow, Rhynehart reached out behind him and snapped his fingers. Jamal growled and stomped toward the goblin woman tied in the chair. Anasz shrieked and violently shook her head, unable to get out a single word.
Cheyenne glanced at Rhynehart, who’d lowered the gun again and was stepping across the dining room to let his ogre muscle do the dirty work the drow halfling wouldn’t.
No way.
A roiling orb of black energy with flaring violet magic at its center burst to life in Cheyenne’s palm, and she blasted it at the ogre the second it appeared. Her spell hit
