The second she filed everything, both monitors went black.
“What the hell?”
This time, the message came across in white, the cursor blinking as the words typed out across the screen.
You’re getting sloppy. Remember when I said you only have one warning?
“Who is this guy?” Cheyenne lurched up from her chair and slammed her hands on the desk. Then she remembered she still had her old handle tied to the server, which this anonymous stalker had found the minute she’d sent everything into safekeeping.
Gritting her teeth, she loomed over the keyboard to type a response.
ShyHand71: I’m not into superstitions. Or threats. So unless you can give me proof of something other than hijacking my desktop, I’m gonna keep doing what I’m doing.
The cursor on her blacked-out screen blinked for a few seconds, which seemed to take forever, then the next message appeared.
Stay home tonight. As long as you don’t get involved, we can help you find what you’re looking for.
Cheyenne snorted. “No deal. This is what I’m looking for. If they haven’t picked up on that already, they’re dumber than I thought.”
ShyHand71: That’s not a very convincing promise. How do I know you have anything I want?
You’ll know when we give it to you. Don’t show up at the location you decrypted. You’ll regret it.
“Ooh. Very intimidating.” Cheyenne glared at the screen. “Makes me even more excited to show up and kick some magical-trafficking ass. So, sorry, not sorry.”
She leaned over the keyboard and got ready to tell whoever this was to take his threats and his warnings and shove ‘em, but the black screen flashed into white. Then her desktop background returned, and the anonymous message went away.
Cheyenne pushed out an aggravated sigh. “Didn’t even let me respond. Not cool. And I’m not buying it.”
Turning off both monitors just to keep from seeing anything else that might pop up, she tapped the piece of paper with the meeting’s address written in pen and huffed out a laugh. “Good old-fashioned paper. Can’t trace that. And I can burn it.”
It was only 9:15 p.m., though, which meant she had a little over an hour to kill if she timed this right. The first thing that came to mind was dinner since she’d skipped out on that at her mom’s. Man. And that salmon smelled good.
Her stomach gurgled. “Try to find me a drow berserker who doesn’t need to eat before busting in somebody’s party.”
She grabbed her wallet and keys and left her apartment for the gas station at the end of the block. The closer she got to the convenience store, the more Cheyenne wondered if that was such a good idea. Those idiots with guns smashed in the security cameras, but there would still be footage of me in there as myself and then me in there as drow halfling.
It would be even more suspicious for the twenty-one-year-old Goth chick to not stop by her regular haunt for cheap and easy-to-make pre-packaged meals after the place got shot to pieces and torn apart by a couple of bodies flying everywhere.
If I’m trying to be two different people, the human Cheyenne left before any of the exciting stuff started.
She decided it was a safer bet to show her face and look like nothing was different from last time she’d come in for a six-pack and Funyuns. And maybe part of her wanted to check in on Katie and see how her part-time friend was handling everything.
Before she crossed the last turnoff into the convenience store parking lot, that feeling of being watched came back full force. Cheyenne wanted to stop and look around, to find the face around the eyes she knew had been on her all day. And that’s just gonna make me look even more suspicious. Just keep walking.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled, the paranoia intensified, and her drow magic ignited at the base of her spine.
Deer. Keeping thinking about deer.
By the time she reached the door to the convenience store, she’d pulled herself under control. No gray skin or hints of white in her hair. It was only a temporary relief, though, because she turned toward the checkout counter to smile at Katie and shoot off some witty remark that would at least make her sound more relaxed. Then she stopped, and the ghost of her unformed smile disappeared.
“Where’s Katie?”
“Yeah, hello. I’m having a great night, thanks.” The man behind the counter in the gray polo with a red collar and the gas station’s logo on the left breast nodded vigorously. His smile was just as real as Cheyenne’s patience. “How ‘bout you?”
She stared at him and shifted her weight onto one hip.
“What? You don’t get many polite greetings?” He looked her up and down and wrinkled his nose. “Maybe if you cleaned up a little, you know. And smiled more.”
Cheyenne’s eye twitched, and she sent the guy an unflinching glare. Deer, deer, deer. Even Bambi. Now is not the time for the drow happy place. “Where’s Katie?”
“Jeez, relax. She took the night off.” The guy behind the counter ran a hand through his hair, then placed both hands on the counter and shrugged. “Working nights isn’t my thing, but I’m making the most of it. I tell you what, there’s a whole different kinda people come in after eight p.m.”
Without a word, Cheyenne turned away from him and walked down the second-to-last aisle. She liked the instant pad-Thai—just add water and a microwave—but she seemed to have lost her craving for anything. She would have turned and walked back out if it weren’t for her growling stomach. Last thing I need is passing out from hunger in the middle of a fight.
The chime behind the counter dinged when the
