“Yeah, I did it. Trials completed and passed with flying colors, just like saving my own life. You can’t be here.”
L’zar blinked, his grin widening, and slowly lifted his gaze from the box to his daughter’s face. “I’m pretty sure I’ve just proven I can be wherever I want, Cheyenne.”
“Are you trying to get locked up again? No, don’t answer that. I got off the phone with the FRoE’s head honcho two minutes ago. They’re pissed that you’re out again.”
“Naturally.”
“And they think I know where you are.”
“What did you tell them?”
Cheyenne gave an exasperated grimace. “The truth, which was different two minutes ago. I’m sure they have a whole team of freshly geared operatives just itching to find you. So far, you’re making it really easy.”
“That’s fine.” L’zar glanced at the legacy box one more time, and his grin widened. “We’ll just go back to your place.”
“No! That’s the first place they’ll look for you. It’s not a secret anymore that I’m your daughter.”
“Have you opened it yet?”
“Seriously, enough with the box.”
His long, slender slate-gray fingers clamped down on the open window as he leaned closer. “Have you?”
“Not yet. I’m smart enough to save that for somewhere private and safe. Which apparently you’ve forgotten all about.”
“I want to be there when you do.”
Cheyenne shrugged. “Fine. I’m calling Corian when I get home, and we’ll deal with it then. You should go find him and get out of the open before you bring down a whole bunch of shit I don’t need on both our heads.”
L’zar didn’t move, so the halfling slipped her finger under the automatic window button and rolled it up. The corner of the drow’s grinning mouth twitched as he stared at Cheyenne with wide eyes. A tiny bit of pressure from his hands stopped the window with a mechanical whine.
Cheyenne jerked her hand off the button and gritted her teeth. The next second, her pale skin and dyed-black hair were replaced by the purple-gray flesh and bone-white locks she shared with her drow father, and a burst of violet sparks erupted from her fingers and crackled across L’zar’s hands. He withdrew them slowly from the window, chuckling as he took a step back from the car.
“Go find Corian,” Cheyenne said as she rolled up the window. “He’s probably at the warehouse. I’ll find you when I’m ready.”
The window slid into place, and the drow convict smiled. “I can’t wait.”
Shaking her head, Cheyenne shifted into drive with a quick jerk and took off down the frontage road toward Richmond.
“Holy shit.” Ember swallowed and glanced at the legacy box in her lap. “And I thought I had dad issues.”
“It’s all relative, right?”
Ember barked a laugh as Cheyenne reached for her phone and pulled up Corian’s number. He answered on the second ring.
“That was fast.”
“I’m not back yet. Just called to give you a heads up. I’m not the drow who needs a babysitter. You’ve got an old friend heading to the warehouse right now, FYI.”
“He’s out?”
“No, Corian. Chateau D’rahl’s taking him on a field trip on account of his good behavior.”
The nightstalker growled into the phone, “What an idiot.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.”
Corian’s sharp laughter made her pull her phone away. “He just couldn’t wait any longer, could he? Damn. Don’t forget to call me when you’re ready to join the party, kid.”
“That would be impossible. I’ll be home in less than an hour.”
“Good.” Another laugh burst through the line, then Corian hung up on her without another word.
Cheyenne tossed her phone back into the cubby and shook her head. “Here we go.”
Chapter Four
Cheyenne opened the front door to the loft apartment she and Ember shared and stepped inside to hold it while Ember wheeled herself through. “Sorry I have to bail right back outta here.”
“You’re not bailing.” Ember picked up the legacy box and held it out toward the halfling with a smirk. “It’s your destiny or whatever.”
“Ha.” Cheyenne took the box and turned it over, studying the bigger symbols created from all the tiny runes now locked into their correct positions. “It better have more for me than a crazy-ass drow and a bunch of pissed-off FRoE on my heels.”
“Fingers crossed.”
The girls shared a wry laugh, and Cheyenne set the box down on the armrest of the couch before heading into her room. She pulled off her shirt and took a quick whiff. A shower. Tonight. That’s final.
Her pants dropped on the floor, then she headed toward the glistening black dresser with the silver skulls for knobs on the drawers and rifled through her clothes. She picked a maroon shirt with black fishnet from chest to collar and black skinny jeans. Cheyenne tugged it all on, then shrugged and crossed the room.
The brown glass jar of Yadje’s healing salve was right where she’d left it in her backpack on the floor, and she twisted off the lid before taking a tentative sniff. Smells awful. Hurts even worse.
She dipped a finger into the pale, taffy-like salve, twirled it around to get rid of the stringiness, then set the jar down on her black velvet comforter. Grimacing, the halfling smeared a bit of darktongue goo on the palm of one hand and grunted. The grunt turned into a growl as the salve did its work, burning through her hand and bringing tears to her eyes as it sealed the fresh wound from the inside out.
“You okay?”
“Just healing myself,” the halfling shouted into the living room. “No big deal.”
Ember’s wheelchair rolled with a soft rumble across the floor and she stopped outside Cheyenne’s bedroom. “Healing yourself?”
The halfling nodded toward the jar on the bed. “Free salve from a friend. Apparently, people pay with their own organs or something just to get this much.” She lifted her goo-tipped finger with a shrug, wiped it
