Cheyenne raised her glass at Sir, whose face had darkened to the same shade as his maroon polo again, and nodded. “He seems to be doing fine.”
“We both are, aren’t we?” Alice rubbed her husband’s shoulder and gave him a concerned frown. “Did you find the Tums?”
“Yeah.” He stared at the wall and rubbed his fingers across his lips, ruffling his mustache.
“Give it a little while. I’m sure whatever it is will disappear before you know it and leave you alone so we can enjoy our dinner.”
“Doesn’t seem likely.”
“Hey, remember what we talked about with Dr. Angstern? Our state of mind is as important as diet and exercise. Just a little optimism, honey. That’s all it takes.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth, and a small, tight smile spread across his lips. “I know. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” She kissed his cheek, then clapped her hands together and smiled at Cheyenne. “Speaking of dinner, I need to get everything ready. I know it’s rude with guests over, but Guy has to eat at a specific time, or he’s up all night with indigestion.”
“That’s fine. Don’t let me stop you.” Cheyenne sipped at her drink.
“All right. I’ll take your word for it. Honey, did you pick up a new tank for the grill?”
“It’s in the car.”
“You’re the best. Cheyenne, would you mind helping him with that propane tank?”
“Physical activity. I get it. Come on, Guy. You open the door, I’ll do the heavy lifting.” The halfling walked down the hall toward the front door and nodded for Sir to follow.
“Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit with the steaks. Feel free to make yourself another drink, Cheyenne.”
“And I won’t interrupt your cooking.” Cheyenne opened the door and held it for Sir. “You want your drink?”
He nodded vigorously, then stormed into the kitchen to retrieve his whisky. Alice and Cheyenne smiled at each other, and when Sir returned, his glass was full again. “Then I’ll show you around back and heat up the grill,” he muttered.
“Sounds like fun.”
Alice chuckled and headed back into the kitchen.
“Oh, and you could give me the grand tour of your lovely home if you like.”
Sir pulled his face out of his rocks glass and snorted, heading through the front door without looking at her. “Fuck off, halfling.”
Grinning, Cheyenne pulled the door closed behind her and followed him to his car.
Chapter Fifty-Three
The flames ignited on the grill in Guy Carson’s backyard, and he scowled at them before stepping back and taking another long drink.
“Great yard.” Cheyenne gazed at the half-acre behind the man’s house, complete with a patio awning, two large trees with most of their leaves still clinging to the branches, and a well-maintained garden, despite the flowers having bloomed and died this far into autumn. “Aren’t you and Alice the perfect picture of suburbia?”
He glared at her. “You didn’t come here to talk about my personal life, you psychotic changeling.”
“No, but it’s so much fun.”
“Get to the point.”
“Sure. You know about the new portals opening because I told you about them.”
He snorted and took another drink.
“I’m only telling you the rest of this because I don’t trust you, and I want to see your face screw up when you realize you’re fucked.”
“Excellent opening statement. Ten points.”
She gave him a deadpan stare. “Those new portals are opening because of some issues in Ambar’ogúl.”
“I don’t give a duck’s corkscrewed dick about any of those glittering magical assholes on the other side.”
“Shut up and listen.” Cheyenne slipped in and out of drow form and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get too comfy playing house, Major. That’s not why I’m here.”
His nostrils flared as he studied her unflinching gaze, and he nodded with another grunt.
“Those magical assholes on the other side have been using those unregulated new portals to smuggle O’gúl tech across the Border. To Earth. Maybe you already know the stuff isn’t supposed to work on this side, and I think you know that it does anyway.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The machines, Major. War machines popping up out of the ground and digging their way into wherever the hell they’re told to go. They’re powered on this side of the Border by a program designed specifically for O’gúl tech. A man named Matthew Thomas owns the company and designed that program himself.”
“Fucking woohoo for him.” Sir sipped his whisky and smacked his lips, licking small drops from his mustache.
Cheyenne leaned toward him and studied every pulsing vein and twitching muscle in his face. I’ll find it. He’s an especially shitty liar when his wife’s around. “Matthew Thomas was introduced to a group of extra-large magical assholes by his uncle Colonel Les Thomas. One of your commanding officers, isn’t he?”
“Look, halfling. You can play glowy-eyed detective all you want, but you don’t know a goddamn thing about—”
“I know he was at that little meeting you called when L’zar got out last week, and Matthew Thomas happens to be my neighbor, so I know a hell of a lot more than you think. I don’t know who else is involved in this, but at the very least, Colonel Thomas has been using FRoE resources to send information to the other side. He’s been funding an operation run by those assholes over here that will be the worst mistake of your life if you don’t tell me everything else.”
Sir snorted. “You’re as crazy as your old man.”
“Maybe. Is that a risk you’re willing to take? ‘Cause the crazy drow slipped out from right under your nose, Major. Twice.”
He sucked his lower lip noisily and sneered at the heating grill. “Assuming your cooked-up little conspiracy is true, and there’s no way it is, what in the goddamn cosmos do you think I’m supposed to do about it, huh?”
“Set up a meeting for me. With Colonel
