The fae’s hand slapped Cheyenne’s cheek and whipped her head to the side. Cheyenne growled and stared at the floor.
“Shit.” Ember floated backward and shook out her hand. “Forget listening to me, Cheyenne. Listen to yourself. Do you have any idea what just came out of your mouth?”
Cheyenne closed her eyes and focused on pulling her magic back under control. “I told you to get out of my way.”
“Before that, you crazy idiot.”
The halfling looked up at her friend and blinked. “What?”
“You said you’re gonna ‘cut out the rot.’ Ring any bells?”
Cheyenne swallowed. Those aren’t my words. “Did I say that?”
“Oh, yeah. You were this close to bursting into black fire and calling yourself the new drow prophecy. You need to calm down and think about what you’re doing.”
“You’re right. Totally right, Em.” Cheyenne turned and ran a hand through her hair, scanning the walls of their apartment like she’d find the right answer there. “I have to be thinking clearly. Be prepared before I do anything else. And thanks for slapping me. Again.”
“Sure.” Ember shook out her hand again. “If that’s all it takes to pull a drow out of going homicidal, I’m honestly surprised I’ve never seen someone slap L’zar in the face.”
“So far, I think Bianca Summerlin’s the only one who’s done that and lived.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot all about that.”
“I wish I could.” Biting her lip, Cheyenne looked up at the mini-loft again and nodded. “Good thing I have you around to get me back on track.”
“I mean, it’s in the job description, isn’t it? Your Nós Aní conscience and everything. What are you doing?”
“Making a call.” Cheyenne pressed the send button and lifted her phone to her ear. “To the FRoE asshole who thinks he’s better than everyone else. Sir’s my only access point to Colonel Thomas right now, and I’m gonna use him. See how he likes it.”
“Uh-huh.” Ember folded her arms and waited.
The phone rang over and over, then stopped with a click and beeped, presumably to leave a message. “Of course he’s not answering. I can work around that.”
The halfling’s feet pounded back up the iron stairs to the mini-loft, and she didn’t bother to sit in her chair before pulling up every command the activator suggested. Her search for Major Guy “Sir” Carson’s personal details took her two minutes flat. Of course, his first name’s Guy. Here we go. Personal phone number. P.O. Box. Home address. If you don’t wanna answer my calls, that’s fine, but I’m not fucking around anymore, Major.
She pushed away from her desk and ran back down the stairs again.
“Cheyenne.”
“My head’s clear and I’m prepared, Em. Nothing to worry about anymore.”
“Where are you going?”
Cheyenne opened the front door and turned around to shrug at her friend. “I’m going to get answers. Depending on what Sir decides to tell me, I haven’t figured out what I’m gonna do to him yet, but I’m a ‘wait for inspiration to strike’ kinda drow.”
The front door slammed shut, and Ember let out a long, heavy sigh. “Be careful. We all still have to be careful.” She floated around the back of the couch and paused in front of the burned edge of the rug. “I guess I’m the one putting out drow fires. There are worse things, like not replacing this rug.”
Chapter Fifty-One
At first, Cheyenne thought it would be a good idea to get in her beat-up Panamera and drive to DC to give herself time to cool down and form a plan. But she only got two miles up the highway before she realized she wouldn’t be calming down anytime soon.
Not until I let him have it. Sir’s been jerking me around for way too long, and I’m done holding back.
She pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store she never shopped at, grimaced at the warbling chirp of the alarm system when she locked the doors, and stalked toward the back of the building. Two seconds later, a blur of purple-gray, black, and white streaked across the lot and headed north toward the nation’s capital. A deafening crack followed a second later and scattered fall leaves all over the pavement and the grass around the parking lot.
Cheyenne pushed herself faster than she’d realized she could go in drow speed. Glinting cars, headlights, taillights, trees and leaves, and asphalt—all of it streamed past her in one giant streak of indecipherable color. She didn’t stop, even to catch her breath, until she reached DC’s city limits, but it wasn’t because she was tired.
The activator flashed in her vision and lit up with a large yellow arrow on her left. When the halfling dropped out of drow speed in a burst of wind and spiraling leaves, she looked left and found herself on the street she’d noted on the map of the city she’d pulled up before leaving her apartment.
My activator comes with built-in navigation. There’s no reason to take this thing off.
A forest-green sedan honked at her as it sped down the road. Cheyenne darted into drow speed again and followed the activator’s directional prompts to Major Carson’s home. The shockwave of her departure made the driver of the green sedan lay off the horn and grab the steering wheel instead. The wheels spun, and he skidded to a squealing stop with two tires up on the sidewalk.
Cheyenne darted down side streets and through one residential neighborhood after the other until the activator zeroed in on the address she wanted. She dropped into normal speed again with another sharp crack, pulling her magic back to slip into human form as she jogged toward his driveway.
Look at that—cute little suburban cookie-cutter. I took the man for a cabin-in-the-woods kinda guy. Wonder how he gets along with the neighbors?
She hurried across the lawn. The huge dogwood tree and the hedges around the yard provided the perfect cover from the street, and she let herself slip back into
