Page 7

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S o how’s fame treating you?” Chester asks, making sure the prison door’s locks engage behind him and Roma.

Roma frowns back. “Fame?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Chester leads the way through the harshly lit labyrinth of hallways, holding cells to their right and interrogation rooms to their left. “You’re famous now, Gutierrez. Half of the Sanctum knows about our devious plot to get you into the demons’ good graces and bring JJ home. There are betting pools on how long it’s going to take. It’s a whole thing.”

Roma fights back a groan. She knew that Councilwoman Nasir recruited a handful of mixed-breed volunteers to help with the con?—after all, if Roma were around for every mysterious rift-opening, it would look too suspicious?—but she was under the impression that Nasir asked them to be discreet. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” Chester hangs a left around a cluster of interrogation rooms, and Roma stifles a shudder at the muffled screams through the walls. She couldn’t avoid venturing into Chester’s workplace today?—the restricted spellcasting library can only be accessed from within the prison itself?—but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. “Frankly, I’m hurt that Bryant and I haven’t reached the same level of notoriety, but alas. You’re the face of the operation. We’re just the backbone of it.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Roma says lightly, and she shoots him a considering glance. “Seriously, though, you and Bryant are doing good work. Opening a rift solo is difficult, but tag-teaming a mega-rift while staying twenty feet away from your spellcasting partner and maintaining a cloaking spell is genuinely impressive. I’m going to try to talk you up to the Council.”

Chester’s eyes soften. “Thanks, Roma. You know I need it,” he says, and he swipes his key card outside a nondescript door. The locks disengage with a cheerful whirr, and he pushes the door open for her. “After you.”

Roma waits until they’re both safely inside the one-room specialty library, giving them a modicum of privacy, before speaking. “You wouldn’t need it so much if you kept your head down,” she says quietly, and Chester’s shoulders stiffen. “Listen, I understand that you had a different upbringing from us, okay? But you need to stop criticizing the Sanctum when other hunters are in earshot.”

“I’m not criticizing the Sanctum,” Chester says emphatically. “Roma, this place saved my life. They gave me a home and a purpose and?—?” He cuts himself off. “I care about the Sanctum, okay? I just feel like there are some ways we could improve. To be more fair and equal for everyone. It’s not wrong for me to want to change a place I love for the better.”

Roma shakes her head. “The Sanctum is built on millennia of tradition, Locke. One person can’t change any of that.”

Chester’s smile is mirthless. “Especially not a neophyte hunter, right?”

Roma winces. Just like neophyte demons are new to this dimension, neophyte hunters are new to the Sanctum?—former civilians without any hunting blood in them. They exist at the bottom of the social hierarchy, even below mixed-breed hunters, and as far as Roma is aware, there are only two of them in the entire world: Julian Jackson and Chester Locke.

Or just Chester, now that JJ defected. “Honestly, I don’t even think a purebred would stand a chance. With everything that wants to kill us outside these walls, challenging the system that keeps us safe inside of them is playing with fire.”

“But we both know it’s wrong.” Chester’s eyes flicker up to meet hers. “Right? The bloodlines hierarchy, the obsession with purity, the carefully arranged marriages to keep certain families in power…” He grimaces. “The systemic discrimination against mixed hunters.”

Roma’s stomach roils. “The system exists for a reason,” she says shortly, “and keep your voice down.”

For a long moment, Chester is quiet. Roma turns away, retreating to the nearest bookshelf. Calling this cramped room a “library” almost feels like an exaggeration?—with only three shelves pressed against the walls and a single lightbulb hanging over a dusty table, it feels more like a large walk-in closet than anything else?—but she knows how much power these books hold.

And that’s exactly why she’s here. While Chester and Bryant are opening the mega-rifts with a surprising level of success, they’re usually exhausted afterward, and Roma doesn’t want to risk either of them making mistakes in their actual jobs?—Chester in his interrogating, Bryant on her strike team assignments.

Not that Strike Team Kappa has been sent on many missions since JJ left them. But that’s another matter entirely.

In any case, there are multiple spells that can open a rift to Tamaros. She just has to find one that’ll be less physically taxing for her co-conspirators, and with the abundance of spell books on these shelves, she’s sure to discover at least a few. She trails her fingers over the embossed leather spines, pulls a few promising options into her arms??—

Chester’s soft voice stops her cold. “Did you ever think that might’ve been why Sawyer and Naomi left?”

All the blood rushes from Roma’s head at once. Slowly, she turns to face him. “Excuse me?”

“The bloodlines system. The rigid hierarchy keeping them at different levels.” Chester hesitates. “The fact that not even purebred Sawyer could change anything.”

“Why would that bother them?” Roma’s voice comes out harder than she intended. “They were born into this life, just like me and Bryant.”

“Well, they?—?” Chester’s shoulders hunch uneasily. “Did you ever get the vibe that they were… you know. A couple? For those last few weeks, at least?”

Roma’s hands are trembling the slightest bit. She clenches them around her stack of spell books to hide it.

Did she ever think Naomi and Sawyer were a couple? The very idea is laughable. Besides the fact that they barely even interacted until a month or so before Strike Team Kappa’s final exam, Naomi hated Sawyer.

Well. Maybe “hate” is a strong word. At the very least, Naomi always complained to Roma about how “perfect purebred princess” Sawyer could saunter effortlessly into promotions and special assignments while Naomi had to fight tooth and nail for everything she got.

The most notable assignment, of course, being JJ and Chester themselves. After the Jackson–Locke murders, Sawyer was given the unprecedented task of training the two ten-year-old survivors to be hunters. Roma remembers Naomi seething that Sawyer only got the job because her grandfather is president of the Council?—although Roma thinks Naomi might’ve been secretly relieved once she saw how JJ and Chester’s low status rattled Sawyer’s formerly unshakeable position.

Eventually, though, Naomi got half of her wish: JJ was assigned to join Roma and Bryant’s strike team, and Naomi was put in charge of training them for external operations. She and Sawyer frequently clashed over JJ’s education?—although, to be fair, Sawyer fought with Adrian Nostrand about Chester’s interrogation lessons, too.

For the last few weeks before they defected, though? When they were forced to work together to prepare Strike Team Kappa for their final exam? Roma bites back a scowl. Sure, she noticed that Naomi and Sawyer were arguing marginally less. Naomi didn’t complain about the purebred quite as much, either. And they did spend a lot of time away from the Sanctum together, presumably plotting their traitorous exit.

But even during those last few weeks…

“Naomi wasn’t reckless enough to flirt with a purebred,” Roma says curtly. “And it would’ve been social suicide for Sawyer. Neither of them was that stupid.”

“And yet.” Chester raises his eyebrows. “If nothing else, they defected together. That requires a certain level of camaraderie and trust?—two things that the Sanctum has never really encouraged between purebreds and mixed breeds. If they wanted to be together but knew the Council wouldn’t allow it, then??—?”

“No offense, Locke,” Roma cuts in, “but I’d really prefer not to talk about this.”

Immediately, Chester’s face flushes. “Right. Sorry. I just?—I’ve been thinking about them a lot since JJ left,” he says, and he strides towards her, gesturing towards her armful of spell books. “Here, let me take those to the table for you.”

Roma instinctively hugs them tighter to her chest. “I’ve got them.”

Chester’s flinch is almost imperceptible, but Roma still notices. Silently, she curses herself for not accepting the olive branch. “But, um,” she says, and she nods awkwardly towards the opposite bookshelf. “Do you want to check that side for any relevant books? Preferably ones with English titles?”

Relief flashes across Chester’s face. “On it,” he says, and he jogs across the room.

Between the two of them, they end up piling nearly two dozen spell books on the old table. Roma quickly identifies the most promising seven and searches for their respective rift-opening spells, skimming over the lines of spindly handwriting.

But it doesn’t take her long to run into a problem: no counterspells. While the Written Magic Standardization Act of 1446 required all spell books to include written counterspells, these particular books were clearly compiled before then.

That isn’t a dealbreaker, of course. While it’s generally inadvisable to cast a spell without knowing its counterspell, there are precautions Roma can take and analyses she can perform to find a passable reversal. And since these are just rift-opening spells, the risks would be comparatively low.

But what if you’re wrong?

Roma fights back a wince. Those words in particular were Naomi’s constant refrain when Roma started working with more advanced spells, ruthlessly making her triple-check her work and consider the possible consequences of any mistakes every time.

Was it good practice? Of course. Did Roma despise the sentence every time it came out of Naomi’s mouth? Abso lute ly.

It was just like Naomi to focus on everything Roma could potentially do wrong rather than everything she did right.

But, much as Roma hates to admit it, just because Naomi said the words doesn’t mean they’re incorrect. Casting a spell without knowing its exact reversal can be a dangerous proposition, especially since Chester and Bryant will be the ones actually using this spell. Roma sighs in defeat. “All right. There are some intriguing rift-opening spells down here, but I don’t think any of them will work for our mission. Sorry to waste your time.”

Chester shakes his head, turning a page. “Not a waste. Actually, I think some of these books might be good for my own research.”

The words pique Roma’s interest. He’s mentioned his research project a few times recently, but he hasn’t offered many other details. “I’m glad. Also, I’ve been meaning to ask?—what are you studying? New interrogation techniques?”

Chester hesitates. “The demon gods, actually. Mostly Nostringvadha.”

Roma almost starts with surprise. “What? Why?”

“Well?—?” He smiles unsurely. “Well, uh, we actually start most interrogations by asking the demons about their gods. Low-ball questions to soften them up, you know? I figured it might help to have a better working knowledge of The Fourteen.”

Slowly, Roma nods. “Sounds cool. Let me know if you find what you need, okay?”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Chester agrees, shooting her a crooked grin as he pushes himself to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

It only takes a few minutes for Roma and Chester to shelve the books back where they belong, making sure the library is as neat as they found it before heading towards the door. Just before Chester opens it, though, Roma puts her hand on his arm to stop him. “For the record,” she says quietly, “I don’t think the bloodlines system convinced JJ to defect.”

Chester’s arm twitches under Roma’s fingers. “Maybe not,” he says evenly, “but I know it isolated him. And that made him an easier target for Chin.” Before Roma can respond, he pulls open the door, decisively ending their conversation. “After you.”

Letting out a slow breath, Roma steps out into the prison hallway, and Chester makes sure the library door locks behind them before they retrace their steps back towards the exit. Hanging a right around the interrogation rooms this time, striding down the main hallway with the holding cells??—

Abruptly, a flash of blue catches Roma’s eye. She stops dead, her heart stuttering. “What the hell?”

Frowning, Chester backtracks to meet her. “What? What is it?”

Roma stares at the demon curled up in the corner of the cell, the gears in her head grinding together. Ten feet tall, eight spindly legs, two leathery wings??—

And a very familiar electric-blue stripe along its belly. “That?—that looks like one of the demons from Lakeside a few weeks ago. The first one that was summoned through the rift, remember?”

Chester squints through the one-way glass. “Maybe? But we see a lot of giant spiders down here. A demon’s true form is based on its summoner’s worst nightmares, and very few humans think arachnids are cute and cuddly.”

Roma jabs a finger towards the demon. “But do you see a lot of giant spiders with bat wings and an abdominal stripe like that?”

Chester’s eyebrows furrow. “Huh,” he says, and he reaches into the wall-mounted container next to the door, pulling out a binder and flipping through it. “I see the similarities, but I don’t think it can be the same demon?—the Chain got to that one first, remember? And it looks like this one was captured by an out-of-town hunter. Found it in the forest just past Lakeside.”

Roma frowns down at the signature. “‘G. Ricci,’ huh? Did you see them when they dropped it off?”

“Nope,” Chester says, tucking the binder back into its spot. “But that’s not uncommon. Spellcasters are usually in charge of unloading demons?—interrogators only get assigned to them once they’re already in a cell.”

“Oh,” Roma says absently, and before she can stop herself, her gaze drifts back to the demon.

There’s no doubt about it?—that’s definitely the neophyte from Lakeside two weeks ago. Did it try to go on a rampage? That would be very unusual, honestly?—neophyte demons tend to lie low for at least a few months after their summoners are killed, licking their wounds and adjusting to Earth. Did G. Ricci specifically track it down? But that doesn’t make sense, either?—attacking a registered Chain demon without provocation could be considered a declaration of war, and both the Sanctum and the Chain try to avoid that.

So how did this neophyte end up in the Sanctum’s custody when it should’ve been under the Chain’s protection?

Chester is still frowning at her. “Roma? You good?”

Hastily, Roma shakes off the thread of unease winding down her spine. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just, uh. Just thinking that the Lakeside summoner’s rift-opening spell would probably be a good option for you and Bryant. I’ll see if I can find it in any of our spell books, yeah?”

“Cool.”

And, as Chester leads the way back out of the prison, Roma keeps her eyes fixed straight ahead and determinedly tries not to wonder if the other two demons from Lakeside ended up in these cells, too.