Only the Strong Wear Black Read online

  Only the Strong Wear Black

  Goth Drow Unleashed™ Book Four

  Martha Carr

  Michael Anderle

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2020-2021 Martha Carr and Michael Anderle

  Cover by Mihaela Voicu

  http://www.mihaelavoicu.com/

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US Edition, March, 2021

  (Previously published as a part of the megabook Quote the Drow Nevermore)

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-64971-633-0

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64971-634-7

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Free Books

  Author Notes - Martha Carr

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Connect with The Authors

  Other Books By Martha Carr

  Books By Michael Anderle

  The Only the Strong Wear Black Team

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let us know!

  Angel LaVey

  Daniel Weigert

  Dave Hicks

  Deb Mader

  Debi Sateren

  Diane L. Smith

  Jackey Hankard-Brodie

  Jeff Eaton

  Jeff Goode

  John Ashmore

  Micky Cocker

  Paul Westman

  Peter Manis

  Veronica Stephan-Miller

  Editor

  The Skyhunter Editing Team

  Dedications

  From Martha

  To everyone who still believes in magic

  and all the possibilities that holds.

  To all the readers who make this

  entire ride so much fun.

  And to my son, Louie and so many wonderful friends who remind me all the time of what

  really matters and how wonderful

  life can be in any given moment.

  From Michael

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  To Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  To Live The Life We Are

  Called.

  Chapter One

  Sitting in a cheap metal folding chair on his side of the iron bars, L’zar Verdys studied his halfling daughter with a feral grin. “I suppose I owe it to you to give you the first shot at this. So. Is there anything you want to ask me?”

  “Yeah. Why’d you just leave her that night without a word?” Cheyenne’s anger burned even stronger inside her, racing up her spine and across her shoulders, fueling her. But she was already in her drow form—the purple-gray skin and bone-white hair, pointed ears and glowing golden eyes just like her father’s—so there really was nothing to hold back.

  L’zar let out a soft, low chuckle like a rumbling purr. “Going right for the throat, I see.”

  “Don’t tell me you expected a bunch of polite small talk?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t expect much of anything.” L’zar stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing one ankle over the other in his gray prison-issue sweatpants, and scratched the side of his chin. “So far, I’ve been nothing but pleasantly surprised.”

  “Are you gonna answer my question or not?” Cheyenne studied the drow prisoner’s calculating gaze, the secret smile on his dark lips. He looks real cozy behind those bars. Like he doesn’t care where he is.

  “There’s a short and long answer for everything,” he said. “Right now, all you need to know is I left the way I did because I had to.”

  “Bullshit.”

  L’zar shrugged. “You can believe whatever you want, but you’re getting your answers from the source now. I left without a word because I couldn’t let your mother know who I really am. I also couldn’t run the risk of you knowing until you were ready to find me. Which, apparently, you now are.”

  Cheyenne shook her head. “You escaped from Chateau D’rahl that night on your own. Why’d you come back to turn yourself in?”

  “Because I had to. And so you could find me when you were ready.”

  “Are those gonna be your answers for everything?”

  L’zar cocked his head. “Only for the questions you’re asking right now. Anything else?”

  He doesn’t want to tell me anything. The halfling pressed her lips together and glared at the drow who’d given her all her power and left her to figure it out on her own.

  “Well, while you think about it, I’ll just keep the ball rolling.” He tossed the loose strands of white hair out of his eyes. “How’s school?”

  She blinked. “It’s a joke.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. I imagine there’s very little your professors can teach you at this point, after everything you’ve managed on your own. The dark web feels like a remarkably fitting place for a dark elf to spend her time, even a halfling.”

  How the hell does he know about that?

  Cheyenne shifted in the chair. “As the guy who knocked up Bianca Summerlin and abandoned her—and me—you seem to think you actually know who I am.”

  “I’m sure there’s much more beneath the surface.” L’zar chuckled again, his golden eyes flashing in the dim yellow lights bolted to the stone walls of the Dungeon. “I really am anxious to dig deeper. I know there’s plenty you don’t show the rest of the world.”

  “You don’t know anything about me. Whatever drow spy trick you’re trying to pull, I’m not buying it.”

  “I’m not asking you to buy into anything, Cheyenne.” He rocked back in his chair like he was buckling down to really get comfortable. “Tell me about your friend in the hospital.”

  “What?”

  “The one born Earthside who can’t use what was passed down to her by blood. I hope she’s recovering well.”

  He won’t flat-out say what Ember is when Sir and the guard are listening. What kinda bullshit game is that?

  “That’s none of your business,” she muttered. “And I didn’t come here to talk about someone else.”

  “No, of course not.” L’zar licked his lips, and the next
smile he gave her almost looked gentle. “You came here to see your drow father with your own eyes. To size up the man who made you what you are, just to know if he fits into the same shape your imagination gave him. Well? Were you close?”

  Her nostrils flared as he spread his arms and chuckled again. This is just a game to him.

  “Don’t you have any questions about her?”

  L’zar shook his head. “Not really. You’re far more interesting, Cheyenne. And you wouldn’t tell me anything about your mother even if I wanted to know. Let’s cut the bullshit, huh? You and I are the same that way. We don’t do very well with pretenses.”

  Cheyenne scoffed. “Fine. Why did you leave her the box?”

  “For you. Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to. It’s boring, and it’s not who you are.”

  “Then tell me what it’s for. How does it work?”

  L’zar shook his head. “That’s for you to discover on your own. And I am so looking forward to the day when you reach that point. I hope you’ll come and tell me all about it.”

  A new flash of rage churned through her. He has to give me something.

  “Okay. Since you think you know so much about my life and what I’m getting into, tell me about the bull’s head.”

  For the first time, L’zar reacted to her words with something other than blasé amusement. His eyes widened, and he pulled his legs in toward the chair again before leaning forward. “What about it?”

  Can’t give too much away with our FRoE audience in the booth. “I’ve been seeing it around a lot lately on magicals who think they know something about me too. What does it mean?”

  The drow on the other side of the bars sucked his teeth and hissed. “That’s an issue that should have stayed in Ambar’ogúl where it belongs.”

  “Yeah, well, it didn’t. And now it’s my issue.” Cheyenne leaned toward his face, so much like her own. “Now’s your chance to make this little meeting worth my time. What does it mean?”

  He shook his head. “We’re not gonna talk about that.”

  “Then I’ve run out of things to say. Easter Bunny.”

  A high-pitched whine filled the Dungeon a second before those iron bars lit up with crackling green fell energy, buzzing and sparking between father and daughter. The low lights inset into the walls flashed from a dull yellow to an eerie red, and a blaring alarm cut through the cavern every five seconds. L’zar glanced quickly at the ceiling and the fell energy crackling down the iron bars of his visitation cage. In one swift movement, he stood from the chair and stepped away from the bars. His white teeth glinted in the red alarm lights when he grinned at her and offered her one slow nod.

  Cheyenne stood from her chair and meant to push it aside. Instead, the thing went flying sideways across the cavern and clattered against the stone wall. Swift, urgent footsteps echoed behind her, then a warning arm settled on her elbow.

  “Let’s go,” the guard said over the alarm.

  The halfling jerked her elbow away and glared at L’zar. The drow prisoner threw his head back and laughed, the sound ringing out across the Dungeon between the blaring bursts of the alarm splitting Cheyenne’s head.

  “Come see me again when you’ve learned how to ask the questions that really matter,” he said through his laughter. “Then these little talks will be a lot easier for both of us.”

  Forcing herself not to fling her magic at those bars and tear the whole cell apart to get to him, Cheyenne spun on her heels and stormed back toward the booth. Sir stood just beside the open door, his arms folded, his face showing no expression. L’zar’s laughter followed her toward the booth, and she didn’t bother turning around to see what would happen to him next.

  Should’ve known the real L’zar would be a lot more disappointing than I imagined.

  She didn’t look at Sir as she stepped into the booth stretching across the cavern. He entered behind her with the prison guard close on their heels, then the door shut with a loud click and a metallic echo. The guard slammed his hand down on the control panel and the obnoxiously screaming alarm cut out entirely, at least inside the booth. The red lights still illuminated the Dungeon and L’zar’s overlarge cell and the fell energy still fizzled along those thick iron bars, creating a muddy halo of green and red light around them.

  “That was a lot shorter than I expected,” Sir muttered.

  “Why are you complaining?” Cheyenne spat. “Now you have plenty of time to make it back for lunch.”

  Sir didn’t find that very funny and folded his arms again as she pushed the door on the other side of the booth.

  She glanced back at the guard and spread her arms. “You gonna open this thing or what?”

  The man raised his eyebrows and pressed another button on the control panel. When the door buzzed, Cheyenne shoved her hands against it and stormed out the other side of the booth. The alarm was probably supposed to be silent now, but her drow hearing picked it up from the other side of the booth just the same. And L’zar’s laughter continued.

  The elevator doors were closed when she reached them. Where’s the damn button?

  She searched the stone walls but couldn’t find anything to call the stupid elevator back down.

  “It’s on its way,” Sir said from behind her.

  “Whatever.” Cheyenne clenched her fists by her sides and stared at the closed doors set into the stone wall. And I woke up early for this.

  Chapter Two

  As soon as Cheyenne and Sir stepped into the elevator, the blaring alarm cut out entirely. The lights inset in the walls stayed red, though, and the bars still hummed with green fell energy.

  L’zar smoothed his white hair away from his face and pulled a deep breath in through his nose. Another chuckle escaped him. That went well.

  Waiting for the prison guards to make their way down here with their magical cattle prods and their dampening cuffs and all the fell-powered firearms they could hold, the drow moved toward the back of the cell and lowered himself to the floor. He faced the back wall, crossing his legs beneath him, and centered his focus again. Just to be sure. A little double-checking never hurt anyone.

  Hidden from the Dungeon’s security cameras and the guard in that damn booth, his hands moved in one more complicated pattern, drawing the power toward him for his next little spell. It was not to fight what was coming for him or make things harder for the guards, although the thought was tempting. Right now, the distant past would give him more reassurance than anything.

  When he finished casting the spell, a wavering silver light bloomed in his hands and illuminated the stone wall of the cell in front of him. The shimmering, opalescent forms took shape quickly, and L’zar watched the conjured image of himself from so many centuries ago.

  There he sat in the Oracle’s lair in Ambar’ogúl, the dark walls much lighter in his memory. There was a lot less blood on those walls too, but the surroundings weren’t important, just the conversation.

  The wizened, shriveled Oracle with black lines all over her wrinkled face opened her eyes. They’d been a dark storm-gray before he’d asked her for the prophecy of his lineage. Now they were a swirling, misty white.

  “The Cu’ón is doomed to lose his bloodline time and again.” The voice was a raspy croak, rattling like death from an ancient mouth perpetually stained red. “The endless search for an heir will bring each one of them to death’s door. Only the scion never pursued will rise to their destiny. When the shackles of the old laws crumble, their purpose will be fulfilled.”

  In this vision of L’zar’s memory, he heard his own voice—so steady, so sure of itself. So goddamn foolish. “Explain this, Oracle.”

  The prophetic whiteness filtered away from the Oracle’s eyes, and a wrinkled, gnarled hand reached into a bowl of blood sitting beside her. Fingers dipped into all that red, and she drew a line of it down her face from forehead to beneath her chin. “Every child you sire is doomed to the same fate, Cu’ón. You will go to them to mold each one i
nto the shape of your heir, but you will fail. Death rides on the heels of your eagerness. Every child will fall beneath your guiding hand, and you will pursue them over and over to the same end.”

  The L’zar from centuries ago, wavering in the silver light of the memory spell, folded his arms and lifted his chin. “Will any of them survive?”

  “No. Not while you try so hard to bring them to their destiny. And you will keep trying, drow. You will never stop.” The crone snickered and pressed a blood-covered finger against L’zar’s chest. “Your greed and your pride make you unstoppable.” Then she bent over her aged lap and fell into a fit of wheezing, paper-thin cackles.

  Sitting in the cell in the Dungeon, L’zar swiped his hand through the glistening light of his memory, and the vision disappeared. His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. I was such a cocksure idiot then. That prophecy proved itself, all right. Not this time. This time, my pride sits behind bars with me. We’ll wait together for as long as it takes.

  Chapter Three

  Sir didn’t ask Cheyenne to put the stupid black bag over her head again when they got back into his orange Kia Rio. Maybe he’d forgotten the route to Chateau D’rahl was supposed to be a secret. Maybe he knew if he told her to put it on, she’d send a blast of drow magic into his stupid mustache.