L’zar snorted. “They never do. Until they do.”
“Yeah, well, we’re watching everyone closely. As far as I know, none of the human organizations have noticed a thing, and they won’t.”
“You sound sure of that.”
“Hey.” The troll turned toward L’zar and spread his arms. “I see everything from right here in this executive freakin’ desk chair, okay? Genuine Italian leather and everything. The humans on this side are never gonna crack this code, and they’re never gonna know we’ve got our hands in these proverbial cookie jars.”
The drow gave his friend a tired smile. “Never say never.”
“Relax. My boys got it covered. Hey, they’re still your boys too, don’t forget. And they’re gonna light the death flame torch when they hear you’re back.”
L’zar peered down at his blue-skinned friend and cocked his head. “No. This is all temporary, got it? I don’t want any of the guys to know anything until I’m long gone.” He turned and headed toward the torn, sunken couch against the far wall.
“Long gone?” Persh’al snatched up his fourth energy drink in the last five hours, took a pull, and lurched after his friend. “Where you goin’ after this?”
L’zar slumped onto the couch, shifting around to get a broken spring out from under him. He propped his legs up along the cushions, crossing one ankle over the other. “Right where I belong.”
“You think they’re gonna let you back across the Border? Do they brainwash the inmates at Chateau D’rahl before they seal them up behind the wards that you, uh, somehow just broke out of?”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“An idiot? Me?” The troll approached the couch and drained the rest of his energy drink. “Okay, I might not have a drow’s superior intellect, but any dimwit with half a brain knows they’ll cut you in half the minute you step foot in Ambar’ogúl.”
“I’m not going back,” L’zar muttered. He folded his arms behind his head and leaned back against the couch’s armrest. “You know as well as I do I don’t belong there any more than the humans.”
Persh’al snorted. “That’s stretching the truth a lot farther than it can go, I think.”
“Think what you want.” The drow took a deep breath of dust and rusted metal and the slightly burned odor of plastic casings in Persh’al’s powered-up rigs. “Smells like you need some cleaner fans in your towers, by the way.”
The troll glanced toward the desks and the custom computers he and his men had built from scratch. He scratched the back of his head, ruffling the spikes of his orange mohawk. “Hey, how long you been away? Did they have computers in the Chateau or something?”
“Limited access, but yeah.”
“Nice.” The troll nodded and pursed his lips. “Yeah, I, uh, ordered parts for the servers and hoping they get here in the next couple days. It’s handled, don’t worry about it. Look, L’zar, whatever you’re—”
“Two days.”
“Huh?”
“Two days is all I need, Persh’al.” L’zar opened his eyes and slowly turned his head to look at his friend. “I’m just waiting for one more sign, and then I’ll be out of your house and your…hair.” He eyed the troll’s mohawk.
Persh’al sniffed and folded his arms. “Just two?”
“That’s what I said.”
“And you want me to keep everyone out of here for two days, so you don’t blow your cover as an escaped convict.”
The drow closed his eyes again. “That’s a good way to put it.”
Persh’al puffed out a sigh and shook his head. “You’re a piece of work, you know that? That was a rhetorical question, by the way. Don’t bother answering. I got your back for two days, brother. Least I can do to repay the last couple centuries.”
“Appreciate it.”
With a relenting chuckle, Persh’al went to his computers and sank into the ample executive desk chair. “Log some Zs. I’ll keep it down.” That said, he popped open another energy drink, stared at a monitor, and started tapping away on an oversized custom keyboard.
L’zar cracked an eye open to look at his friend, then closed it again and let himself fully relax. One last sign. This has to be it. I finally found her, and there’s no way I missed the timing. Just wait for it all to line up the way I was told it would.
The escaped drow thief fell asleep that night thinking of Bianca Summerlin and wondering if the child he wouldn’t get to see would have her mother’s curls.
* * *
Two days later, the final sign came.
“They’re crackin’ down,” Persh’al muttered, vigorously rubbing his blue forehead covered in orange spots. He leapt from his chair. “I gotta go. You good here?”
“Go do what you gotta do.” L’zar finished the last of the energy drink—Persh’al was overjoyed to share his addiction. L’zar tossed the can in the trash.
“Right. Yeah.” The troll snatched up his black messenger bag propped beside the desk and slung it over his head and shoulder. He headed for the warehouse exit.
“Hey, Persh’al.”
The troll stopped and peered over his shoulder. “What’s up?”
“Thanks. It was good to see you.”
Persh’al chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at the drow. Then, he nodded, and they both knew what this meant. “Yeah, you too. I’d tell you not to get into too much trouble, but…that would be pointless.” With a wry chuckle, the troll raised a hand in farewell and slipped out the side door.
L’zar waited forty-five minutes before he made his move. He took on the same human form in which he’d brought in the year 2000—in bed with Bianca Summerlin—and opted this time for a pair of jeans and a sweater. He phased through the warehouse and its security wards and made his way back through DC toward Chateau D’rahl, and he did so with inhuman
