She clicked into several of the non-profits and charities to poke around, but as far as she could tell, nothing was out of place. Matthew Thomas’s name was right there on every board of directors and list of trustees. He’d even gotten a scholarship named after him, which apparently he funded personally for a hundred kids right out of high school based on financial need, scholastic merit, and what the site called “an exceptional understanding of personal growth and potential, combined with a fierce desire to improve, succeed, and better both themselves and their community.”
“Okay.”
She scrolled through the scholarship info page and found a snippet of an interview with the man himself.
“Yes, I read through every single submitted application. This is something I’m providing personally, not through one of my many other organizations. [laughter] So there’s nobody else reading through these incredible essays that land on my desk. And let me tell you, selecting only a hundred of these a year is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. So, how do I make that decision in the end? I’m looking for heart, dedication, and perseverance. I’m looking for someone who really wants this, and who, in a perfect world, is unlikely to squander the opportunity by partying all through college and letting everything else take a back seat to the present moment. It’s an unrealistic expectation, I know, but I have high hopes for these kids. I want to see that they do and if they can dive deep into themselves and show me what they want to be seen instead of showing me what they think I want to see. That greatly raises their chances of receiving one of these scholarships.”
“Oy.” Cheyenne scrolled through the rest of the interview excerpt and shook her head. Sounds like a genuinely good guy obsessed with helping others. Why does he rub me the wrong way?
After scrolling through his Wikipedia page and clicking on several links to his various organizations and high-profile firms, she decided to start with the cyber-security pillar of all Matthew Thomas’s dabbling, ThomasSafe.
“So humble and original.” She snorted and waited half a second for the page to load.
A prickle of suspicion rose along the back of her neck, and she grabbed the monitor with both hands to angle it down toward the desk. Can’t have him snooping on me snooping on him, if that’s what’s happening here.
Cheyenne rolled the office chair away from the desk and spun it lazily toward the back corner of the mini-loft. She scanned the crease between the wall and the ceiling and grinned. If he’s watching and doesn’t freak out after this, I’m going with the psychopath option.
The halfling slipped into her drow form and enhanced her speed a fraction of a second later. Then she stood and rolled the chair behind her toward the corner. The swiveling chair didn’t move when she stepped onto it and peered up into the corner, running her hands along the walls and the ceiling, searching for a different kind of mechanical bug. They’d be small, and this is a ridiculously obvious place to put a tiny spy camera.
She spun the chair to face the rest of her elevated office and scanned the potential hiding spots. Reaching out toward the wall behind her, the halfling let off a small, controlled burst of telekinetic energy, and the rolling office chair lurched toward the center of the mini-loft.
“Woah.” Her arms shot out to her sides for balance, and she chuckled. “Having this much control makes things way too easy. No wonder every drow wants to pass their trials.”
The chair had stopped right where she wanted it, beneath the recessed light fixture in the ceiling. Cheyenne reached up and quickly unscrewed the spiral bulb. Then she ran her finger around the edge of the fixture before turning her attention to the lightbulb itself. All this twisting glass makes for a lot of surface area. A camera could be stuck in just the right place.
She turned the bulb over in her hand, running her fingers along every edge of the twisting glass. A soft pop sounded behind her, followed by, “What are you doing?”
The surprise made her slip out of drow speed as the lightbulb slipped from her fingers and smashed on the wooden floor beneath her. She turned too quickly to look over her shoulder and almost fell off the chair. So much for looking for bugs faster than anyone could watch me.
Corian stood between her and the far corner of the mini-loft, his arms folded and his head tilted comically far toward his shoulder.
“I’m changing a lightbulb.”
“Like that? I didn’t know it took enhanced drow speed to get non-essential repairs done.”
“Well, maybe I was trying to buy myself a little extra time and finish everything before you got here.”
“Right. Because that’s a commonly asked question. ‘How many drow halflings does it take to screw in a lightbulb?’”
Cheyenne glared at him and leaped off the chair, careful not to land in the shattered glass. “Well, now I have my answer. None. But the nightstalker has awful timing and broke the lightbulb.”
“I didn’t touch your lightbulb.”
Rolling the chair back into place at her desk, Cheyenne shook her head. “This wins the Most Useless Conversation award by a landslide.”
“I agree. Can we go on? I didn’t spend a quarter of an hour doubling up on dampening wards to stand here and chat.”
“Yeah, I know.” After glancing around the mini-loft, she stooped to grab a sheet of paper from the printer on the floor and used it as a dustpan for as much glass as she could sweep onto it with her hand.
Corian frowned. “You want some real cleaning supplies? Gloves, at the very least.”
She rolled her eyes. “Apparently, I’m immune to broken glass. And no, this isn’t the first time I’ve tested that theory.”
“That sounds like something I should be concerned about.”
“You know what?” Cheyenne stood, carefully rolled the paper to keep its contents from spilling out,
