Page 21 of Take You Home (Redwater Demons #3)

S o what do we think?”

Chester scowls down at his hands, his shoulders hunched. After what was probably the longest two hours of his life, he and Obie are finally back in Chester’s bedroom, Obie sitting in his usual spot on Chester’s desk chair and Chester sitting on his bed.

Two hours ago, he thought he’d be spending most of the evening cursing Obie out for the fake boyfriend situation.

He wishes that was still their biggest problem.

“I don’t know,” he admits, glancing up to meet Obie’s eyes.

“I?—I never planned on this. I wasn’t trying to bind us together, so I didn’t even research the possibility. ”

Obie’s jaw twitches. “Yeah, I know. You were just trying to bind me.”

Irritation?—and a little bit of guilt?—roils through Chester. “Yeah, I was,” he bites out, leaning forward. “I want my friends back, Smith. I didn’t see another way to make that happen.”

“Your friends are fine, as you just saw,” Obie snaps back .

Chester glares down at his hands again. “Yeah,” he says reluctantly. “Yeah, they seemed… good.”

More than good, actually. JJ and Roma seemed happy. JJ’s smile was warmer and easier than Chester has ever seen it, and Roma’s shoulders were relaxed in a way they never were in the Sanctum, and they just looked…

Content.

Part of Chester is happy for them?—really, he is?—but a much larger part is even more bitter that they had to leave him and Bryant behind to get there.

And their demonic partners weren’t nearly as bad as anticipated, either.

Cass?—because, by the end of the day, Chester was calling the demon who accidentally started World War I by a nickname in his head?—was friendly and attentive, always asking “Kyle” for his opinions and listening closely whenever he contributed to the conversation.

Ez was more intense, but in a good way?—the kind of way that had Chester choking on laughter more than once?—and she always seemed determined to hear Chester’s thoughts and make him feel at home.

Desi was unambiguously a sweetheart. Chester can readily concede that his original theory about her manipulating JJ was probably unfounded, because?—demon or not?—she obviously had the temperament and intellect of a human four-year-old.

She was just a little girl. Chester can understand why JJ went to such great lengths to protect her.

And, most importantly, Cass and Ez were clearly attached to JJ and Roma. They moved to keep their human partners in eyeshot and pulled them into conversations and teased them like they’d known each other for years, not just months.

They all seemed to genuinely care about each other. The thought makes Chester’s chest hurt. “Regardless,” he says brusquely, “I’ve never heard of a binding spell creating a telepathic connection. I’ve got nothing.”

Eventually, Obie looks away. “Me, neither,” he says quietly. “The last time I was under a binding spell, it wasn’t anything like this. It was a less refined version of the spell that summoners use on neophyte demons nowadays, so it was obviously unidirectional?—and controlling.”

A tendril of curiosity snakes through Chester’s mind. “The one from fifteen thousand years ago, you mean? With the first hunters?”

Abruptly, Obie’s face shuts down. “Yes,” he says shortly.

The researcher in Chester wants to press him for more details, but Obie’s frosty expression convinces him to drop it.

“All right,” he says instead. “Then how do we figure out what’s going on?

If the binding spell can create a literal telepathic link between us, then it might have even more side effects we haven’t discovered yet. ”

Obie lets out a slow breath. “Well, we could always investigate it the old-fashioned way.”

Chester squints at him. “Meaning…?”

“Meaning we test it.” Obie pushes himself to his feet, closes the distance between them, and stretches out a hand. “Here. Let’s figure out the limits of the telepathy first.”

Grimacing, Chester wraps his fingers around Obie’s palm. The tingling sensation next to his right eye comes back, and he cautiously presses into it. Obie? Can you hear me?

Obie’s voice floats through his head. Yes.

All right. Let’s try something else. Chester releases Obie’s hand, hovering his palm less than an inch away from Obie’s skin. Can you hear me now?

Obie frowns at him .

Can you hear me now? Chester repeats, but the tingling sensation is gone. “Huh. I was trying to push a thought to you, but it didn’t work. I guess we do need to be touching.”

“But clothing didn’t make a difference earlier,” Obie says, putting a hand on Chester’s shoulder. His palm is warm through the fabric of Chester’s shirt. You can still hear me, right?

Yep. But that fabric isn’t very thick. Maybe… Chester glances down at his denim jeans, considering. Sit down next to me and touch your knee to mine.

Obie arches an eyebrow, and vividly, Chester realizes that he technically just invited Obadiah Smith into his bed. “Oh, grow up,” he says out loud, heat flaming into his face. “You’re the one who wanted to test it, remember?”

Obie scoffs before easing himself onto the mattress and pressing the side of his knee against Chester’s. Can you hear me?

Loud and clear. Chester pulls his leg away and puts the sole of his sneaker on top of Obie’s shoe. How about now?

Obie frowns. “If you just said something, I didn’t hear it,” he says, pulling his foot out from underneath Chester’s to press the sides of their shoes together, instead. His voice floats back into Chester’s head. How about this?

Yeah. Chester shrugs hopelessly. So either the sole of my sneaker is too thick, or the connection doesn’t work through rubber.

Obie’s eyebrows pull together. “Or…?”

Chester squints at him. “Or what?”

“You didn’t finish your sentence. You said that either the sole of your sneaker is too thick, or…?” He gestures for Chester to continue. “What’s your other guess?”

Chester frowns. “My other guess was that it doesn’t work through rubber. But I definitely said it?—in my head, at least. Did the connection cut out? ”

“I guess so.” All at once, something like horror flashes across Obie’s face. “Wait.”

“What?”

Obie nudges in close next to Chester again, pressing their legs flush together. Chester almost jumps. Can you hear me right now? Obie asks.

Yes, we’ve already established that, Chester says?—thinks?—impatiently.

Good. Now tell me if you hear this.

Silence. Chester raises his eyebrows at Obie.

Obie’s face falls. “What was the last thing you heard?”

“To tell you if I heard anything. What’d you say?”

Obie scrubs a hand down his face. “That I’m thirty thousand years old.”

Chester’s eyes widen. “What? But I thought??—?”

“I’m not,” Obie cuts in. “I’m only fifteen thousand years old, at least by this dimension’s standards.

Thirty thousand years was a lie.” He leans towards Chester, his jaw set in a grim line.

“There was one other time today when your voice stopped transmitting like that. It was when you were saying that you didn’t call me an asshole. Did you say that full sentence?”

Suddenly, Chester has a bad feeling about this. “Yes.”

“All I heard was ‘I didn’t.’ And I think that might’ve been because you very clearly did call me an asshole a minute earlier.” Obie looks faintly nauseous. “I don’t think we can lie to each other through the bond.”

All the blood rushes from Chester’s head at once. “What?”

Obie waves a hand impatiently, his voice wafting back through Chester’s mind. Test it out. You know that game Two Truths and a Lie? Try that on me. See if I hear the lie.

I?—I can’t think of truths and lies that quickly !

They don’t have to be good, idiot! Just give me obvious ones!

All right, all right. Chester casts his eyes towards the ceiling, thinking. I have blond hair, I’m twenty years old, and I had three younger brothers.

Obie’s voice floats back into his head. I didn’t hear the middle one. That was the lie. Out loud, he adds, “You had three younger brothers?”

“Can we?—??” Chester presses his fingers against his temples, annoyed. “Can we just stick with one method of communication, please?”

Obie rolls his eyes, but he shifts away from Chester, severing the telepathic link. Chester’s leg feels cold where Obie’s warm one was pressed against it. “Suit yourself. What was the middle one?”

“That I’m twenty years old. I’m twenty-two, just like JJ and Roma,” Chester says. “And yes, I had three younger brothers. Mikey, Tony, and Ricky.”

Obie presses his lips together. “And they’re all…?”

Chester looks away. “Dead, yes,” he says curtly. “Twelve years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Obie says softly.

Chester scoffs. “Sure you are.”

Obie’s eyes narrow. Without warning, his hand clamps down on Chester’s shoulder and his voice slides into Chester’s head. I’m very sorry for your loss. No one should have to watch their family die.

Chester’s heart stutters. If all the evidence so far points to them not being able to lie telepathically, then that means Obie really is sympathetic to Chester’s past. That he really is sorry about Chester’s family being killed.

Even though they’re enemies, Obie still feels for Chester’s loss. “Oh,” Chester whispers, and he hastily switches back to the connection. Thank you. Sincerely .

Yep. Obie takes his hand off Chester’s shoulder, clearing his throat. “Okay. So we can only lie to each other out loud. That’s good to know, I guess.”

Chester nods slowly, thinking through their telepathic conversation so far. His brain catches on a sticking point. “But I didn’t lie about the connection not working through rubber?—not intentionally, at least. It was incorrect, but it wasn’t a lie.”

Obie goes still. “That’s…” Abruptly, he pushes himself to his feet, taking a quick step away from the bed. Away from Chester. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s… not normal. Like, not normal at all.”

“Is anything about this normal?”

“No, but at least it seemed to obey basic magical laws before this.” After a long moment, he meets Chester’s eyes. “I need you to promise me something.”

Chester’s eyebrows shoot up. “Absolutely not.”

“Locke?—?” Scowling, Obie puts his hand back on Chester’s shoulder, his voice winding through Chester’s head. Promise me that you won’t tell the Sanctum how to request a copy of a spell from the Deep.

The words jolt through Chester. “We’re going to do it, then? You’re going to get a copy of the binding spell from the Deep?”

“As long as you swear through the telepathic link not to tell anyone, then yes,” Obie says. “I still don’t want this information getting back to the Sanctum.”

“But that’s?—?” Frowning, Chester works through everything they’ve discovered about the binding spell today. “That’s something that could potentially happen in the future. Even if we can’t say anything incorrect telepathically, that doesn’t mean it’ll force us to keep our promises.”

Obie’s jaw tightens. “Humor me, would you?”

Chester chews on his bottom lip, putting his thoughts in order .

And then, taking a deep breath, he sends those thoughts through the connection. I can’t promise that I won’t tell the Sanctum it’s possible, but I promise not to tell them anything about the specific steps you take.

Chester has to assume that Obie heard the words, because he pulls away his hand, letting out his breath in a hiss. “Good enough.”

“What changed, though?” Chester asks, squinting at him. “You could’ve requested that spell any time over the past two weeks. Why now?”

“Because this just got even more goddamn weird. In fact, it’s a level of ‘goddamn weird’ that I wasn’t even aware existed before now.

We need to break this binding spell before it does any permanent damage.

For that, I’m willing to take the risk.” He winces.

“Can we go to the Courtyard tomorrow after your shift? Or would going into town two days in a row look suspicious?”

Chester blinks at him. “You actually care if my superiors suspect me?”

Obie’s scowl deepens. “Just answer the question, puppy.”

The pet name?—or pet insult, more accurately?—reminds Chester of his other reason to be annoyed with Obadiah Smith right now. “Yes, we can go tomorrow, but more importantly?—?” He jabs an accusing finger at Obie. “Fake dating? Really?”

“Oh, that?” Obie waves a hand dismissively. “I was just messing with you, Locke. It was a joke.”

Chester wrinkles his nose. “And you’re joking with me now? Who even are you?”

Obie rolls his eyes. “Think of it more like hazing. Are you seriously worried about that after everything else we learned today?”

“I’m capable of worrying about multiple things at once. Actually, I’m pretty good at it.”

“That’s called ‘anxiety,’ Locke.” Obie sighs. “All right. We’ll get a copy of the incantation tomorrow, and after that, we’ll see if we need Ez and Roma to actually create the counterspell for us. Deal?”

Slowly, Chester nods. “Deal,” he says, and as Obie walks back over to his customary desk chair, Chester suddenly realizes that he’s not as relieved as he should be about their days of being spellbound together potentially coming to an end.