“Yeah, no problem.” The magicless fae went back to scanning the ten different documents he’d given her.
Then the doctor’s gaze settled on the halfling’s forearm. “Got yourself more battle wounds, I see.”
Don’t laugh. He has no idea. “Yeah, I’m prone to accidents, I guess.”
“Yes, I remember you mentioning that last time. What happened there?”
“Uh…” Cheyenne studied the gashes in her arm. “Rat problem.”
Ember turned toward the bedside table and reached for her empty tea so Dr. Andrews wouldn’t see her shoot the halfling a warning look.
The doctor frowned. “That’s one big rat.”
“Growth hormones in the food or something, right?” Cheyenne lowered her hand into her lap again and shrugged. “I know it’s against the rules and all to even ask—”
“You don’t have to.” Dr. Andrews raised an eyebrow at the halfling and shook his head. “I’ll be right back with some antibacterial ointment and bandages. Unless you need someone to pull another piece of sci-fi tech out of those wounds.”
Ember barked a laugh and clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Naw, Doc. Nothing to pull out this time.” The halfling hunched forward a little as she fought back her laugh.
“Okay. You don’t ask, I won’t ask, and we’ll leave it at that. Give me a few minutes.”
“Thank you.”
“And it goes without saying, but I have to say it anyway. Ms. Gaderow’s recovery will be a lot smoother and faster without flying shrapnel and rat problems. We can all agree it’s best to keep those out of the equation?”
“Absolutely.” Cheyenne raised one hand in a silent oath.
Ember shrugged. “And I hate rats, so…”
“Uh-huh.” Dr. Andrews gave the chuckling women another dubious glance, then hesitantly turned back toward the door before slipping out into the hall.
Ember’s laughter finally exploded out of her with full force. “’Sci-fi tech?’”
The halfling wiggled her head and lowered her voice to mimic the doctor’s attempt at seriousness. “That’s one big rat.”
They burst out laughing again, and Cheyenne almost forgot about her stinging arms.
Chapter Forty
With both forearms professionally doctored and wrapped in fresh bandages, Cheyenne pulled up in the parking lot of her apartment complex south of Jackson Ward. She grabbed her backpack and shredded jacket from the passenger seat, then glanced behind her. She stared at the Incredible Hulk backpack on the back seat and shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Who knows what that imp would do to try to steal these back?”
She grabbed the backpack—with the metal skull necklace she knew belonged to Durg’s orc niece—and got out of her car. The autumn air was chilly through what was left of her tattered turtleneck. The halfling eyed her bandaged forearms just beneath where Dr. Andrews had cut the shredded sleeves away and dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Clean, wrapped, and warm. The doc does good work.”
The hallway on the third floor was empty and silent. Cheyenne let out a little sigh of relief when she passed her troll neighbors’ front door without it opening. Not in the mood for a troll family tonight, as nice as they are. And weird.
After she unlocked her apartment door, the halfling grimaced and slowly opened it. But everything was just as she left it, including the copper drow legacy box lying on the floor. “Good. I’m done with surprises today.”
She set the Incredible Hulk backpack down on the half-wall of the kitchen counter right next to the basket of troll-crafted underwear. All the bright colors next to each other made her snort, and she shook her head before kicking off her shoes and dropping her keys on the counter. A huge yawn escaped her, and she shook her head as she dropped her backpack against the half wall and tossed her shredded jacket against the front closet door.
Shuffling sleepily across the tiny living room, Cheyenne spared a considering glance at Glen. “Mm...nope. All that can wait for—” Another yawn interrupted her, and she blinked the tears out of her eyes before moving into the hall. “Tomorrow. It better just be a normal day.”
The splintered door to her bedroom creaked open as she entered, and the halfling didn’t bother undressing before she fell into bed. For a second, she considered taking off the damn necklace again to keep it from cutting into her chest while she slept, but Corian’s furious feline face kept darting through her mind.
Fine. Until I figure out a better way, I’ll keep the damn thing on.
* * *
Her alarm woke her the next morning at 6:30, but when she slapped a hand down on her nightstand, she hit only bare wood. “What?”
Pushing herself groggily up off the mattress, Cheyenne blinked and realized she’d left her phone in the front pocket of her backpack. She groaned and slid out of bed. Crumbs of plaster fell off the sheets, and she swiped them quickly under the bed.
By the time she reached her backpack and the irritating alarm on her phone, she was fully awake and considered kicking her phone just to stop the noise. But she pulled it out instead, shut off the alarm, and found a text from Ember.
2:00. I’m breakin’ outta here!
With a chuckle, Cheyenne texted back that she’d be there, then headed to the shower to wash off the crust of mansion plaster and sweat and probably a little blood. I took an ogre out by the kneecaps, after all.
No calls on the FRoE burner phone interrupted her while she got ready for another interminably boring day of sitting through her two graduate classes on a Thursday morning. No one tried to get in touch with her or send her messages as she pulled clean clothes out of the dryer and tugged them on. Then she dried her hair, brushed it out, and applied the pasty-white foundation and thick black lines smudged up into dark-gray eyeshadow. The halfling studied her reflection in the mirror and found herself glaring at the dark, glittering
