“Keeps our magical operatives from draining themselves in the field. I only have one, so try not to pass out between now and when we finish this assignment.”
Puffing her cheeks out, Cheyenne grabbed the package and fiddled with it as Rhynehart started the engine and pulled off the shoulder. Her fingers weren’t strong enough to rip the thing open, plus her shaking hands made fine motor skills impossible. She opted for ripping the package open with her teeth and blew the piece of torn silver wrapping off her lips.
Chewing the first bite of the FRoE-approved energy bar hurt her head. “This is nasty. It tastes like moldy broccoli.”
“That’s a new one.” Rhynehart got them up to the speed limit and draped one arm over the center console. “I’ve heard ‘old sock’ and ‘freezer burn,’ mostly. One guy said it was like chewing on the leg of a starving rabbit. Wasn’t about to argue with him on that one.”
“Sounds like you haven’t tasted it.”
“It’s for magicals. And it works.” Rhynehart glanced at the mottled chewy bar of black and sludge-green with specks of light brown and nodded. “Eat the whole thing. You’ll feel it in ten.”
Cheyenne slowed her chewing, sucking the sticky goop out of her teeth, and scowled at the power snack for magicals. “You know, this is basically you drugging me again.”
The man chuckled. “Not the same. We’re both on duty this time. You’ll be thanking me once we get there.”
Trying to ignore the scents of wilted spinach and sweaty socks, she lifted the bar to her mouth and took another bite.
Thanking you. Yeah, right.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Five minutes later, Rhynehart pulled the Jeep onto a dirt frontage road leading into a wooded area. On such a clear day, Cheyenne could see for miles. She saw the open expanse of flat land, cleared of trees, five minutes before they pulled up. The other side of the open space, a steadily sloping rise of layered gray rock, looked like an empty campground more than anything.
Great. He’s gonna drive me off the edge of a cliff, and there’s no one around to see it happen. Good luck, Rhynehart.
The Jeep crunched to a stop at the end of the frontage road. Rhynehart got out without a word. Cheyenne stayed where she was and watched him walk away from the Jeep with his hands on his hips. He laced his fingers together behind his back and pushed out for a nice stretch, then peered over his shoulder to catch her gaze. “We don’t have all day, halfling.”
Cheyenne let the crumpled silver wrapper of the FRoE energy bar drop on the floor. She stepped outside. The air was crisp and fresh, the sun beating down, and she smelled saltwater in the air. Far below the edge of that shallow incline of sloping gray rock, the waters of Chesapeake Bay crashed against the side of the cliff.
All the way to the coast. Yeah, the surf on the rocks down there would be a good place to hide a body.
Cheyenne stepped in front of the Jeep and spread her arms. “What are we doing here?”
“I told you already. We came to have a little chat.”
“With the ocean?”
“If you quit talking long enough to pay attention, halfling, your questions’ll answer themselves.” Rhynehart cocked his head and waved her forward. “Let’s go.”
With a sigh, Cheyenne headed toward him. The sun was warm on her face, the breeze from the ocean carrying mist with it from the edge of the cliff. She approached Rhynehart and brushed strands of black hair from her face. “I still have questions.”
The man shot her an irritated glance, then walked forward and disappeared.
“Uh, what?” Cheyenne spun around to search the empty dirt road and the empty Jeep sitting at the end of it. The woods were empty and still, and the waves kept crashing against the cliffs hundreds of feet below. “Huh.”
Raising her eyebrows, the drow halfling walked to where Rhynehart had disappeared and felt a tremble in the air around her. The world darkened. “Whoa.”
A tall spire of slate-gray stone rose high in front of her, leaving her in its long shadow and blocking her from the sun. The tower was surrounded by a dozen other buildings with more buildings behind those, maybe stretching all the way back to the cliff. They looked like pictures she’d seen of castles built centuries ago in Scotland, although the electric gate in front of them was from this century like the little gate tower beside it and the rust-colored metal doors on all the buildings.
“How’s that hip?” Beside her, Rhynehart smirked, his arms folded.
“Better.”
“Told you.” He nodded at the electric gate and headed that way.
Cheyenne followed after him, her limp less despite the irritating twinge with each step.
Gotta give credit to that broccoli bar. It worked.
When they approached the gate, Cheyenne realized a goblin with blue-gray skin, a pointy nose, a violent overbite, and dark-green eyebrows manned the gate tower. That must’ve been the guy’s hair color, too, although it was hidden beneath a black baseball cap with an embroidered number 38 on it in bright yellow.
Rhynehart raised a hand and nodded at the goblin, who nodded, looked Cheyenne up and down and picked up a radio to mutter something into it. Then he pressed a button on the controls, and the air filled with a low buzz before the electric gate swung open.
Rhynehart placed a hand on his hip. Cheyenne noticed a holstered pistol at his waist.
He wouldn’t have brought me here if he planned to use that thing. It’s gotta be more for show.
When the gate opened with a clang, Rhynehart waved her toward him without a word and strode into the compound of black buildings and the massive spire casting its shadow over everything. Cheyenne caught up to him as the man headed toward the closest single-story building to their left. “What is this place?”
“Res 38, halfling.” Rhynehart glanced at her, and
