Cheyenne blinked against the glare of that green burst, the ringing in her ears drowning out all sound. She let off another burst of crackling black energy at the goblin scrambling toward her, and it swept the magical’s feet out from under him as someone else’s automatic fire peppered the creature from chest to head.
The operative who’d told her to stay down stepped in front of her and bent toward her to say something she couldn’t catch. His voice was a muffled garble within all the chaos, impossible to make out.
She tried to shake her head, and the room spun.
Her hip screamed in agony.
Bright white flashes of light sprayed across the arena and grew until she made out figures moving in front of her.
The next thing she knew, her cheek became acquainted with the linoleum floor and the plaster fragments scattered all around her. The pulsing green lights and ringing in her ears were the only things in the entire world…
Before there was nothing at all.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The torment of her body returned before she knew anything else. With far too much effort, Cheyenne opened her eyes.
The bright white lights were still there, but the glare was coming from two blinding orbs. Voices floated down a long tunnel, but they weren’t as loud as the harsh, grating breath she drew into her lungs. Her hearing returned.
“…have to run it again.”
“I can’t run her through anything her until she stops that reactionary shifting. It’s the shock to her system, most likely. She won’t pick one and stick with it long enough to run any more diagnostics than that.”
“Then wait until she picks one. Anyone know where this changeling came from?”
“Sir, I wouldn’t call that an accurate assessment of what she is.”
“Oh, yeah? Fine. Halfling. Whatever. Any ideas?”
“Never seen her before, sir. We didn’t have any intel on a drow halfling. She came out of nowhere.”
“She’s obstructing FRoE operations and needs to be taken care of. Get her out of the way.”
“Sir? If I may?”
“What is it, Rhynehart?”
“I was next to her for half the raid, sir. I can’t say why or what she was trying to get out of it, but she fought with us, not against us. Kept two of my men from hitting the deck, and she kept the ogre occupied long enough for O’Malley to grow a pair with the fell launcher.”
“Huh. Didn’t go after a single one of our guys?”
“No, sir. If we can figure out what she wants and how we can give it to her, we might have a drow ally. If she can pull herself together enough to understand what’s on the table.”
“That’s a big ‘if.’ And it’d make asses of all of us if she turns out to be anything other than what you’re saying, Rhynehart.”
“Yes, sir. Templeton and Payone are writing up their reports now.”
Cheyenne blinked. It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck her right between the eyes. A groan escaped her lips.
“Somebody please tell me what’s going on?”
Those were the words she formed in her brain. The sound that came out of her mouth was best compared to a braying donkey.
“Well, shit. Sounds like someone’s awake.”
Footsteps resounded across the floor toward her. The first face she saw was a woman’s blonde hair tied back in a severe bun and delicate silver-framed glasses placed down a little on the bridge of her nose. The woman gave the drow a perfunctory glance over the top of her glasses and a flicker of acknowledgment, then reached past Cheyenne’s head to grab something.
“Just kill it halfway, Doc.” A man in military fatigues loomed in the halfling’s vision. Graying hair at the temples. A mustache that couldn’t decide if it was light or dark brown. Dark, squinty eyes.
Cheyenne tried to sit up. She moved an inch and dropped her head back onto the pillow. She was about to hurl.
Military Mustache gave her a strained, almost mocking smile. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Who are you?” This time, her mouth produced actual words.
“I’ll ask you the same question. Wanna go first?”
Cheyenne closed her eyes and swallowed, her throat dry.
Not giving my name today. Not here.
“Yeah, I thought so. For now, you can call me ‘Sir.’”
The halfling tried to snort, but it backed up in her throat and made her choke before she coughed enough to bring another round of blind agony stabbing through her head.
“What you’re experiencing right now is your body’s innate ability to heal itself, aided by our magical-healing formula.” Mustache looked her over, his mustache twitching as his lips twisted sideways. “But you don’t get the full dose yet. Consider this your first lesson. No pain, no gain. I’m sure you get the point.”
“I didn’t sign up for lessons or any of your other bullsh—” Cheyenne’s sentence morphed into a groan. All she wanted to do was curl up on her side and vomit all over the guy’s shoes, but she couldn’t move.
“Well, you gave up that choice when you crashed my guys’ sting operation. We don’t know if that was your intention or if my team of top guys are just lucky bastards, but you need us. We’re still figuring out whether we need you.”
Cheyenne swallowed her nausea, which made her throat rawer. “I don’t know what you—”
“Save it for when you have your head screwed on straight, halfling.” Mustache sniffed and nodded at the doctor, who was still checking the monitors and fiddling with IV fluid bags. “We can use skills like yours, however crude they are. We’ll talk more when you don’t look like a chameleon with a bad case of chronic indecision. When you can conceive what the right answers are, you’ll give us those answers.”
“This should stabilize her for the next twenty-four hours,” the blonde woman said with a curt nod.
“Good.”
Cheyenne groaned, tried not to heave. She
