“I thought you were running tests?” Cheyenne muttered. “Not trying to take me down.”
Rhynehart withdrew his fun surprise from the drawer and the section receded into the wall, then he turned around with a massive black rifle in his arms. “Change of plans.”
“Nice bazooka.”
“Thanks. Everyone loves Lorena. You two will be close pals in no time.” He shrugged. “Or not.”
“Friends, huh? Lorena’s a bigger version of those little pea-shooters you got hidden in the walls?”
Rhynehart slammed his palm on the side of the giant, bulky black rifle, and the empty spaces between the weapon’s attached parts flared to life with the same eerie-green light as the wall mechanisms. A low hum and whine grew in pitch as the firearm powered up.
“Oh, come on.” Cheyenne tilted her head. “You’re not gonna shoot me with—”
A bolt of neon-green light burst from the rifle.
Cheyenne leaped in time it to hurtle past her head and bury itself in the foam-padded walls. The walls did their job and absorbed the damage, leaving no trace of the destructive blast. The half-drow stared at the wall behind her, then whirled toward Rhynehart. “Seriously?”
The rifle powered up with another whine. Rhynehart fired.
Dodging the next shot was easier. Cheyenne’s enhanced speed allowed her to step aside and avoid it. It crashed into the wall and sent green energy crackling across the foam padding.
This dude’s lost it.
“You know I can dodge bullets, right? Those are a lot smaller.”
Rhynehart crouched and circled her across the floor, removed something from the rifle’s clip, and slammed it against his thigh. The, hand-sized black device beeped and flashed green.
“Grenades?” Cheyenne sighed.
He chucked the pulsing device at the half-drow and fired a wide shot that missed her. She ducked anyway, focused on the grenade. It detonated halfway toward her and unleashed a spray of tiny green beads. Thousands of them whizzed through the air, and they packed a punch. The first round peppered her chest and neck and sent her staggering backward. The device hit the padded wall and stuck there, still blinking.
“This is ridicu—”
Rhynehart fired another shot, moving efficiently around the training room with the rifle raised. Cheyenne dodged it before the device clinging to the padded wall detonated. Another wave of neon-green pellets sprayed her as if the thing had taken aim. They hit her in the back and shoulders, knocking her forward and to her knees.
With a growl, Cheyenne regained her feet and whirled to launch a crackling sphere of black energy with a bright-purple core toward the device. Before it hit, Rhynehart fired and caught the half-drow in her hip, the same one that had taken a bullet.
She screamed and went to one knee. The device on the wall exploded under her return attack. Rhynehart fired again.
The next spell from the half-drow’s hand sent another hissing, churning black sphere at the glowing-green energy ball. The explosion on impact sent waves of black, purple, and green light pulsing through the entire room, then Cheyenne aimed both hands toward the FRoE operative and his stupid gun.
Thick black tendrils of magic burst from the halfling’s fingertips and lashed across the room. Two of them curled around the rifle and ripped it from Rhynehart’s grip. The man stumbled into the other flailing, whipping vines of black drow magic. Cheyenne clenched one fist and the rifle snapped in half, throwing green sparks and a choking hum into the air. She wrenched her other hand aside, and the tendrils around Rhynehart swept him off his feet.
The man’s back hit the padded floor with a thud, and the tendrils withdrew.
Down on one knee, Cheyenne dropped forward and caught herself with both hands. Her hip screamed at her. She jerked up the hem of her black tank top and the fishnet overshirt and pulled down the waistband of her pants to examine it. The puckered scar over the bullet hole looked the same. Breathing heavily, she lowered her other knee and sat back on her heels.
Rhynehart pushed up onto his elbows and glanced at the decimated rifle. He sat up all the way, pulled off his helmet, and dropped it. The drow halfling and the FRoE operative stared at each other while catching their breath.
“Halfling, one,” Cheyenne muttered. “Lorena, zero.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Rhynehart pushed himself to his feet. “Rage and pain. Got it.”
He picked his helmet up and headed for the side wall. The first drawer ejected, and he stripped off his protective gear and tossed everything inside. The drawer closed and he turned, rubbing the back of his head. “What’s the deal with the shield, then?”
“What shield?”
The man walked toward Cheyenne, then stopped and faced her. “The shield responsible for the fact that I’m still here to shoot you in the hip.”
“You mean, to get your ass kicked.” Cheyenne thought about rejecting the man’s hand when he offered it to help her up, but only for a second.
Rhynehart pulled her to her feet, and she gritted her teeth at the new wave of pain searing through her hip and up her side.
Folding his arms, Rhynehart nodded. “You have no idea what I’m talking about.”
“You think I wouldn’t have used a shield if I could?” Cheyenne blew strands of bone-white hair away from her face. “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Berserker.” He nodded and turned away to head toward the double doors. “But only when things get real bad.”
“I’m not…I can control it. Most of the time.” The halfling limped after him, the chains draping from her wrists jingling with every uneven step.
“Sure. You could’ve ripped me in half like my weapon, but you didn’t. So, there’s that.” Rhynehart stopped and faced the doors. They buzzed and gave a click. He pulled both handles, and the doors opened. “You can control yourself enough not to destroy everything
