Page 22 of Take You Home (Redwater Demons #3)

S o the veil between Redwater and the Deep is thinnest in the Courtyard?” Chester asks, confusion winding through his voice as Obie leads the way into town. “Then why did Roma and Ez always go to the far end of Lakeside to cast their counterspells?”

Even though Roma and JJ tend to be touchy subjects between them, Chester sounds more curious than bitter.

Obie automatically casts him a sideways glance, trying to gauge his body language, but unfortunately, even he can’t see through his own invisibility spells.

“Because they wanted privacy, especially from the food truck crowd. Tariqua from Sambusa Stop in particular would’ve been all over them.

You know how much magic fascinates her.”

Chester sounds faintly surprised. “I… don’t, actually.”

Obie squints in his general direction. “Do you lackeys ever talk to people? JJ and Roma seemed dumbfounded by all the food truck lore, too.”

“Well, we try to talk to people,” Chester says, an edge creeping into his voice. “They just… don’t always answer. ”

Obie bites back a grimace. Right. He’s so used to all the food truck operators doting on JJ and Roma that he forgets that affection doesn’t extend to the rest of the cult on the hill.

Civilians in general don’t tend to trust hunters, and even though most of them are at least polite, Obie can see how Chester might not be up on the latest gossip.

They lapse into silence as the dirt trail leading down from the hill transitions into concrete sidewalk. Obie wanted to rift them straight into the Courtyard to save time, but Chester insisted on signing out with the guards officially, leaving a paper trail in case someone came looking for him.

Covering his bases, just like he always does. Considering that he’s still a pariah down in the prison, it’s probably a good call.

Although that hopefully won’t be Obie’s concern for much longer. Once he requests a copy of the binding spell from the Deep, then he can either build a counterspell himself or ask Ez and Roma to create it for him. And after that, Obie and Chester will be done. Finished. Through.

Closing the door on the past two weeks of his life forever.

And Obie is happy about that?—really, he is?—but nowadays, he’s starting to get a sharp twinge in his chest whenever he thinks about leaving. He obviously still wants to get as far away from the Sanctum as possible, but??—

But he’s slowly coming to the realization that he kind of wants to get Chester as far away from the Sanctum as possible, too.

The revelation is annoying and concerning in equal measures. Annoying, because Obie shouldn’t care about getting the stupid interrogator away from the Sanctum, especially not after Chester tried to cast a binding spell on Obie, and??—

And concerning, because Obie is indeed starting to care.

Not much, of course. Just a little bit .

And that little bit might have grown exponentially after yesterday’s excursion with “Boyfriend Kyle” and their subsequent discovery of the telepathic connection. Not only because Chester was so good with Obie’s friends, not only because Obie’s friends so clearly liked Chester in return, but??—

But because Obie is seriously starting to wonder whether Chester would believe him if Obie telepathically confirmed that the Sanctum was responsible for the Jackson–Locke murders.

It’s a tantalizing idea. After all, if Chester knew for certain that the Sanctum put out the hit on his three little brothers, Obie is sure that he would defect in a heartbeat.

Chester could defect, and Obie could set him up in a safe apartment, and JJ and Roma would be so happy to have their friend back.

For now, though, Obie thinks it might be too risky. They only discovered the telepathic link yesterday, and they haven’t fully tested it yet. If Obie tried to tell him the truth, Chester might assume that Obie found a way to manipulate the connection and immediately go back on his guard.

And Obie is frankly enjoying the shift in their dynamic from fraught and snippy to cautiously cordial. He doesn’t want that to backslide if Chester doesn’t believe him.

But if all goes as planned with requesting this spell from the Deep and creating the counterspell, then Obie is going to have to make a final decision about that before they break the bond.

He’ll see how Chester feels about their situation then.

Chester’s voice?—soundproofed to everyone but Obie?—breaks through the silence as they approach the Courtyard. “Obie?”

Obie determinedly ignores how they’ve apparently moved from last-name basis to first-name basis, only checking that no one is around before speaking. “Yeah? ”

“Can we get some food?” Chester sounds unsure. “I’ll, um. I’ll buy.”

Obie shoots his invisible companion a bewildered look. “We could’ve stayed for lunch at the Sanctum. It wouldn’t have been a problem.”

A hint of impatience creeps into Chester’s voice. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have had a reason to come into Redwater two days in a row. I can’t just leave the Sanctum without a cover story anymore, not since?—?” He cuts himself off abruptly. “Not since JJ.”

Obie winces. “Yeah. We can get food. What do you want?”

“Does Tacos Near Me sound good?”

“Sure. And I’ll buy,” Obie adds, feeling oddly self-conscious. “The Sanctum barely gives you any spending money, Locke. I own a full third of Redwater. We’re not the same.”

To Obie’s surprise, Chester doesn’t argue. “I’ll never say no to free food. Thanks, Obie.”

That’s strange. Obie expected Chester to get defensive about the potshot at his financial situation. Maybe Chester actually agrees with him?

Or maybe he’s viewing today’s excursion?—and the promise he made last night?—as a “favor” to Obie, so he’s willing to accept a favor in return.

Honestly, Obie thinks he might go cross-eyed trying to dissect how Chester’s brain works.

It’s like he constantly monitors deals and favors and requests for help, keeping a mental tally to track who he’s in debt to?—and how he can reverse it.

He probably had to create that elaborate system just to survive as a neophyte hunter in the Sanctum. Obie is trying not to think about that too hard, though.

It’s not long before the Courtyard looms large ahead of them.

Obie makes a beeline for Tacos Near Me, only slowing when he sees Nick, one of the food truck operators from Falafel Express, chatting animatedly with Esteban.

Pitching his voice low, he says, “Do we want to be nice and let them keep flirting? Or should we interrupt?”

Chester sounds stunned. “Esteban and Nick are flirting?”

Obie sighs. “You’re hopeless,” he says, and he strolls over to Tacos Near Me. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

“Obadiah!” Nick says, beaming at Obie. He’s wearing a rainbow crop top and what just might be the most bedazzled pants Obie has ever seen. “Just the demon I wanted to see. Esteban and I actually have a question for you.”

“It is not just us,” Esteban stresses, looking a bit flustered. “We’re not creeps or anything.”

“Oh, we totally are,” Nick says seriously, “but that’s beside the point. Anyway, Obie, we saw you yesterday with??—?”

“Yesterday?” Obie interrupts. “I wasn’t in the Courtyard yesterday. And even if I was, you shouldn’t have been able to tell, Nick.”

Esteban scoffs. “Oh, please. Your glamours might fool the cult on the hill and the bureaucrats on the highway, but you cannot fool the Redwater Food Truck Association.”

“I hate all of you,” Obie says.

“Anyway,” Nick cuts in, giving Esteban a meaningful look, “we wanted to discuss the fact that we saw you yesterday with a man on your lap.”

Chester snorts indelicately. Obie fights back a groan. “Oh. That.”

“Yes. That,” Nick singsongs, and he leans forward with a smirk. “Spill, Obie. What’s the tea on your cutie with the nice smile?”

“Aw,” Chester says, sounding sincerely touched. “He likes my smile. Can I date him instead of you?”

“There’s?—?” Obie lets out his breath in a hiss, trying to ignore Chester’s running commentary next to him. “There’s no tea, okay? His name is Kyle. We met at bowling. He’s, like, my new boy toy or something. It’s whatever.”

“Wow,” Chester says. “I’m insulted on Kyle’s behalf, and he doesn’t even exist.”

Esteban looks comically aghast. “It’s whatever? Obadiah, this is the first time any of us have ever seen you with a significant other! That is very much not ‘whatever’!”

“And by ‘any of us,’ you mean…?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “The food truck group chat, obviously. Do you even have to ask?”

“But you must really like him, yes?” Esteban looks almost… hopeful. Like he really wants Obie to be happy with his nonexistent boyfriend. “You would not have introduced him to your friends if you didn’t!”

Obie spreads his arms out wide, defeated. “Sure. You may report back to your group chat that I’m in rapturous new-relationship bliss with my himbo.”

“Excellent,” Nick says, whipping out his cell phone and furiously typing in a new message.

“Speaking of which,” Obie adds, “are you even allowed to wear a crop top like that in food service? Isn’t that, like, a health code violation or something?”

“Meh. I wear an apron over it. No one has snitched yet,” Nick says cheerfully. “Speaking of which, though, I should probably go rescue Jacob and Andrew from the afternoon rush. Au revoir, Esteban! Enjoy your boy toy, Obie!”

“Take care, Nick!” Esteban calls, watching for just a beat too long as Nick saunters away.

Obie sidles a few steps closer to the counter. “So have you asked him out yet? ”

Esteban’s face reddens. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well, he’s not going to ask you out,” Obie says plaintively. “He’s already been abundantly clear about his intentions, so the ball is in your court now. If you want something to happen??—?”

“Nothing is happening!” Esteban insists.

“Quit messing with him, Smith,” Chester says.