After withdrawing her writhing whips of drow magic, the halfling stopped and allowed herself a moment to survey the damage. Gotta quit fighting these assholes in other people’s apartments.
The skaxen wheezed and coughed out a spray of spit and what looked a lot like orange blood, but he lay still after that and didn’t look like he’d be getting back up anytime soon. The troll lying in a heap beside the TV stand tried to growl at her, but it came out more like a groan.
Cheyenne stormed across the living room toward him, summoning another sparking black orb to keep his attention. The troll’s red-black eyes—the whites now taking on the same yellow tinge—rolled as he clung to consciousness. When she saw the glint of another thick chain beneath the guy’s t-shirt, she bent and yanked the rest of the chain out so she could see it. She shook the bull pendant and snarled, “Wanna tell me what the hell this is?”
After a quick, surprised blink, the troll burst into more high-pitched cackling with a little rasping at the end. “More of us hear the call every day, mór úcare. Now that she has your scent, the rest will be coming for you. And trust me, there are way more of us now than there were before the crossing.”
She tossed the pendant against his chest and straightened. “Now that who has my scent?”
Another creepy giggle burst from the troll. “You’re as stupid as you look.”
“Yeah, you too.” The halfling closed her fist around the sizzling orb of black energy and smashed it into the troll’s skull. He thumped against the TV stand, causing the flatscreen, which had already come precariously close to falling off, to wobble again. Cheyenne’s hand clamped on the corner of the TV, and she swiveled it back into place. Then she stepped away from her unconscious attacker and shot the skaxen another glance. That was easy.
She stepped back into the hallway to pick up the tote of Ember’s things and slung it across her shoulder. An automatic grimace passed over her face, but when she realized the black-magic holes in her shoulder were as healed as they’d been in the Dungeon, she snorted. That was the only good thing to come out of that little visit. And I can’t waste my time with these idiots.
When she didn’t hear any other footsteps coming down the walkway outside, she reached into the other pocket of her jacket and pulled open the FRoE burner phone. There were only two numbers on there, which made it a lot easier to know which belonged to whom. Cheyenne hesitated for a second, then shrugged and called the second number. “They owe me, and they know it.”
Rhynehart picked up on the third ring. “I don’t have to tell you how weird it is to see this number pop up on my phone.”
“This isn’t my favorite call to make, either.”
“What do you want, rookie?”
“You people have got to start some kinda cleanup crew.”
A wry laugh came over the line. “I’ll send the suggestion up to my superiors. You get yourself in some magical-on-magical trouble?”
“More like they tried to bring the trouble to me. And failed.”
“How stupid of them.” There was another long pause, then Rhynehart chuckled. “All right, rookie. Text me the address, and I’ll send someone over. Just hang out until my guys show up.”
“Better not take all day.”
“You’re welcome.” He hung up, and Cheyenne just rolled her eyes.
But she texted him Ember’s address and shoved the phone back into her jacket pocket. Great. Now I get to babysit.
* * *
Forty minutes later, the front door opened again. Two FRoE operatives in black fatigues stepped into Ember’s apartment, to find the drow halfling slumped on the beige couch in the living room, one arm thrown over the back. There was a huge charred hole in the fabric and feathers everywhere. Two goblins this time, and one of them was the abnormally tall, muscular one with the yellow braid down the center of his head and the giant bullring in his nose. The shorter goblin shut the door behind them and let out a low whistle. “Stepped into the wrong apartment, huh?”
The female voice coming from the shorter goblin surprised Cheyenne. This one’s head was shaved bald, showing the scars on her scalp. Only when she turned to look at the halfling did Cheyenne see the eyepatch over the goblin’s right eye.
“Something like that.”
The tall goblin with the bull-ring chuckled and nodded for his partner to start what they’d come here to do with two unconscious thugs on the floor. Then he made his way toward Cheyenne on the couch and stuck out his hand. “If Rhynehart had told me we’d find you here, I probably wouldn’t have bitched so much about being put on maid duty.”
The halfling stood. She didn’t think she’d actually shake the goblin’s hand until she did. “I’m guessing you guys know more about how to take out the trash than I do.”
“Probably, yeah.”
The sound of the troll’s body thumping onto the floor made them both turn. The female goblin had pulled the unconscious magical away from the stand and now knelt beside him as she unfastened a pair of dampening cuffs from the loop at her belt. She paused, looked up at Cheyenne and Bullring, and muttered, “What are you losers staring at?”
Cheyenne snorted. “I like her.”
“Yeah, Payton’s been a real dick since that imp’s dagger took out her eye.”
Payton rolled her good eye and didn’t even try to be gentle while jerking the unconscious troll’s arms behind his back. “I was a real standup goblin before that.”
The halfling smirked. “Oh, yeah?”
“No.” The one-eyed operative clamped the dampening cuffs together with a metallic click and pushed to her feet to head toward the skaxen.
“We’ll take care of these idiots,” Bull-ring said before taking another sweeping
