Cheyenne took her ID when he returned it to her and shoved it into her pocket with her wallet. “Yeah.”
“I’d file a claim with them. You’ll have to call a towing company to get that thing out of the parking lot if you want it inspected for…”
They both glanced slowly at the foam-covered skeleton. The officer cleared his throat.
“Probably the junkyard,” Cheyenne muttered. “If they’ll take it.”
“Yeah. That’s probably best. Take some pictures of the damage for when you file a claim. And you’ll have to fill out an incident report.” He took a business card out of his back pocket and handed it to her. “Feel free to call if you need any help with that.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“Okay. Have a nice day.” The man stepped jerkily away from her, turning around to shoot her one more glance before nodding at his partner to return to the squad car.
It took ten minutes for the gawking police and the firetruck to get the hell out of that parking lot. Then Cheyenne crumpled the business card and dropped it into the pocket of her backpack before slinging that over her shoulder again.
File a claim. Yeah, right. She snorted and pulled out her phone again to call a cab. “Time for a new car anyway.”
* * *
That afternoon, Cheyenne pulled into the VCU Medical Center parking lot in her new ride. System of a Down blasted through the sound system, and the shiny black Porsche Panamera rolled to a stop in the closest parking spot to the front doors that didn’t have a handicap parking sign. The woman pushing her toddler in a stroller up to the automatic double doors of the hospital shot the Goth chick a wide-eyed, judgmental stare.
Cheyenne met the woman’s gaze, her head bobbing to the music, and lifted her hand to wiggle her fingers in a cheerful wave. The woman shook her head and scurried into the hospital lobby while her toddler laughed and clapped along to the music.
“This’ll be fun.”
She turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. The fancy chirp when she pressed the lock button on the key fob made her smirk again. Oh, yeah.
When she stepped inside the automatic sliding doors, Ember was in the lobby—dressed, hair brushed, her paperwork and her personal bags in her lap where the discharge nurse had parked her wheelchair. The magicless fae grinned when Cheyenne approached. “You’re early.”
“Trust me, it wasn’t intentional.” The halfling smiled back and stopped in front of the wheelchair, giving it an appraising once-over. “Nice wheels.”
Ember barked a laugh. “Yeah, you too. Did I really just watch you pull up in a Panamera?”
“Hey, if that’s what you saw, I’m not gonna try to change your mind.”
“Just felt like getting an upgrade, huh?” Ember peered around her friend to glance through the glass automatic doors at the shiny black car with the temporary taped in the back window. “That is not what I expected.”
“Yeah, it’s funny now.” The halfling leaned toward her friend to mutter, “Wait ‘til I tell you what happened.”
“I’m on the edge of my seat.”
Cheyenne stepped back and glanced at the wheelchair again. “Ready?”
“Almost.” Ember wiggled her eyebrows and nodded toward the front doors. “Let’s blow this joint, huh?”
A surprised laugh escaped the half-drow. When Cheyenne caught her friend’s questioning frown, she just said, “You’ll get why that’s funny in a few minutes. You ready to go?”
“Yep. Got my release papers and everything.” Ember winked, and Cheyenne figured out how to unlock the wheels before taking them both out into the sunshine and crisp autumn air.
The car chirped again before they approached, making Ember laugh again. “This is real.”
“Oh, yeah. Perfect timing, really.”
“You’re not just borrowing the car for a ‘Welcome home, Ember’ joyride?”
Cheyenne opened the passenger door and draped her arm over the top of it before shooting her friend a satisfied smile. “Cute.”
“Just checking.”
Once they got Ember situated in the front seat and her wheelchair folded up and stowed in the trunk, the halfling slipped behind the wheel again and started the engine. Heavy metal blasted through the speakers, and Ember lurched forward to turn the volume down to half. “Holy shit.”
Cheyenne buckled up, chuckling. “I’m having fun with it, okay? Low volume, no problem. Just don’t change the station.”
“Look at you.” Ember buckled up too and gazed around the brand-new car. “Buying us both a new set of wheels on the same day.”
“What?” The halfling tried to look surprised, maybe even a little confused.
“Uh-huh. You can cut the shit, Cheyenne. I know hospitals don’t send their patients home with top-of-the-line wheelchairs as a starter kit. Trust me. I saw this old guy with a cast on his leg being wheeled around this morning. Not the same gear.”
“Huh.” Fighting off a smile, the Goth chick turned her attention to pulling out of the parking lot and getting them the hell away from the hospital. She felt Ember staring at her but pretended not to.
“Thank you, Cheyenne.”
The halfling shot her friend a quick wink before she turned onto the street. “Guess it’s a lucky day for both of us.”
Chapter Forty-Two
“Wait a minute. Just back up.” Ember laughed when the Panamera chirped again in the parking lot of her apartment complex. “The guy wearing that bull’s head pendant looked human?”
Smirking, Cheyenne pushed her friend’s wheelchair down the outdoor hallway of the apartment on the ground floor. “Yeah. Probably some kind of illusion spell.”
Looking over her shoulder at her friend, the fae girl raised a joking eyebrow. “Listen to you. Girl doesn’t know shit about magicals and borders and spells before I got shot, and now she’s wheeling me to my front door talking about illusion spells and O’gúl loyalists.”
They stopped at the last door on the left, and Cheyenne bent to pull the spare key out from under her friend’s welcome mat. “What can I say, Em? It’s been an illuminating three weeks.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
The halfling unlocked the door, shoved it open, then stepped
