She stopped on the sidewalk. “What the fuck?”
The shiny black Porsche Panamera, not so shiny today, was parked diagonally across the two closest parking spaces in front of her building.
“Are you kidding me?” Cheyenne darted toward the car and choked as she ran her hand over the long scratch down the driver’s side. Dust and dry mud were splattered all over the body, and there was a huge dent above the rear driver’s side wheel well. “The general took my fucking car for a joyride. At least she didn’t park it in two handicap spots!”
She wrenched open the driver’s side door, tossed her backpack on the passenger seat, and slid angrily behind the wheel. Even in her wrath, she made sure not to slam the door, then she reached for the ignition and the keys Maleshi had left in the car for two and a half days.
“She’s never touching this thing again.” Cheyenne started the car and sniffed.
A growl escaped her when she found a burger wrapper and a paper carton of half-eaten fries spilling over the seat beneath her backpack. Nightstalkers. Jesus. No wonder L’zar and Corian get into it all the time. And everyone wondered why I drove around in a beat-up piece of crap before this. “Come on!”
She slammed a hand on the wheel, then shifted into reverse and peeled out of the Pellerville Gables Apartments’ parking lot, cursing Maleshi the whole time.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Cheyenne pulled into the parking lot at the VCU campus at 9:54 a.m. The little chirp flaring behind her when she locked her car did absolutely nothing for her mood. Jamming the keys into her coat pocket, she trudged across the parking lot to get to the Computer Sciences building.
I’m gonna be late. Awesome. What is this, my second week of teaching?
She stepped back and drew her hand back when a mutated troll darted in front of her, all metal spikes and black clothes and a puff of neon-yellow hair sprouting from its head.
“Hey, nice costume.” A human mouth grinned at her beneath the wrinkled, grotesque rubber mask. “If you’re entering the costume contest with that one, I’m screwed.”
“What?” The magic that had almost flared at Cheyenne’s fingertips recoiled and disappeared. The student, who was dressed up like a magical that didn’t exist in any world, laughed, shot her the peace sign, and hurried toward wherever he was headed.
She glanced down at her purple-gray hand, then at the bone-white hair falling over her shoulders. Shit. I’m still in full-on drow mode.
More students shouted as they hurried across the campus to their next classes. Half of them were in costume.
It’s Halloween. How did I miss that?
Shoving her hands in her pockets, Cheyenne trudged down the walkway through campus, staring at the cement beneath her. Students everywhere stopped and stared, pointing and calling out her costume.
“Yo, you into that cosplaying stuff?”
“Sure.” She kept her head down and walked faster.
“Hey, for real, though.” A kid dressed like Superman jogged toward her, his thin cape fluttering behind him as he grinned. “That’s a seriously realistic makeup job you got goin’ on. How did you get that color?”
“Get lost.”
“Whoa. And those ears!” He reached toward her head with wide eyes.
Cheyenne slapped his hand away. “Back the fuck off!”
“Okay, okay.” The kid’s hands flew up in surrender, and he stepped back. “Hey, I’m a fan, all right?”
She looked him up and down and gritted her teeth. “Thanks. Nice cape.”
He gaped at her as she stormed past him down the sidewalk. Get it together, Cheyenne. You can’t bring this other crap with you into the classroom. Forget L’zar and Corian. Forget the Panamera. Just chill the hell out. Stupid mistake not to kill the drow look, and now you gotta deal with it.
She started jogging across the quad when the Computer Sciences building came into view. The giant mound of dirt where she’d closed the newest Border portal was still surrounded by people in uniform, who knelt and took measurements and typed on tablets. Sir’s still got agents pretending to work for someone else, huh? At least he didn’t ignore the warnings on this one.
One of the FRoE agents with an oversized baseball cap looked briefly up at her, blinked, and spread his arms. “Hey.”
Of course they recognize me.
“Hey, where the hell’s your mask?”
Cheyenne hurried toward the building’s entrance and spun to face him with a shrug. “This is best I could come up with on short notice, okay? It works.”
The agent glared at her and slowly shook his head.
Great. Any minute now, I’ll get a call about walking around in public looking like myself. Sir can suck it.
She barreled into the building and hurried toward her classroom. The door was open, all the lights on, and her undergrad students were already in their seats, engaged in their own conversations. Cheyenne stormed down the aisle and glanced at the clock on the back wall. Only five minutes late. Could be worse.
“Whoa!” The kid in the back row dressed up as the Hulk, green face paint smeared on way too thick, thumped both hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Nice costume, Professor.”
“Don’t call me that.” Cheyenne stopped behind the desk and shrugged out of her backpack, fighting not to chuck it at the ground. The rest of the students stopped talking and turned wide eyes and awed smiles on their instructor.
“Seriously,” the kid continued. “I mean, it’s not as awesome as the Hulk, but you went all out.”
She cocked her head and looked him up and down. “Yeah, the fake foam muscles were a great touch. Totally believable.”
The students laughed, and the guy sitting next to the kid who gave Cheyenne crap every class
