Page 34 of Take You Home (Redwater Demons #3)

C hester wakes up feeling like absolute garbage. His eyes are sore and his throat is scratchy and he just feels bone-deep drained, like he’s been squeezed dry and wrung out too much to recover this time.

And he feels… warm. Feverish, even.

Maybe he’s getting sick. Maybe he won’t bother going to the infirmary for it. Maybe he’ll just keep getting worse and worse, and maybe??—

Maybe he’ll get to see his family again.

His family. His throat threatens to close off at the thought, fresh tears burning behind his eyes.

Mom and Dad and Mikey and Tony and Ricky.

All of them gone, all of them dead, all of them murdered? —all because of the Sanctum.

The Sanctum targeted them, the Sanctum worked with the Chain to orchestrate their deaths??—

The Sanctum gave the order to let Chester alone survive.

A perfectly willing prototype for them to experiment on, to see if they could use his grief and anger to turn him into a ruthless torturer, to brainwash him into thinking that demons were evil and that humans?—that hunters? —always had the moral high ground.

He remembers arriving at the Sanctum that first day when he was ten years old.

He remembers sitting next to another scared little boy, a scared little boy who would grow up to be his best friend.

He remembers the Council talking with Chester and JJ, remembers them explaining what happened, remembers their sympathy.

Remembers believing that he was going to be safe. The thought makes his skin crawl. Even if the rank-and-file hunters don’t know what’s going on, the Council must’ve known the score from the start, must’ve had their plans from the start.

Must’ve been playing them from the start.

What else has been a lie over the past twelve years?

Anxiety twists through his belly, taut and unyielding.

When they put Chester’s and JJ’s bedrooms on opposite ends of the Sanctum, effectively separating them, was that on purpose?

When they put JJ on a strike team but Chester in the prison, was that another deliberate decision?

Unbidden, Obie’s conversation with Sawyer at the end of July flashes through Chester’s mind.

Why?

To separate him and JJ, obviously. To isolate Chester from anyone who would tolerate him questioning the Sanctum.

How about making Chester torture JJ for his final exam, something they must’ve known would destroy their relationship in ways that Chester still hasn’t fully come to terms with? How much of his life has been tainted by everything the Sanctum took from him?

But JJ got out. It’s the tiniest scrap of hope, but it’s all Chester has right now.

JJ got out, and so did Roma. Hell, so did Sawyer and Naomi.

Most of the people Chester cares about are already out of this place that’s hurt them in so many ways, that’s turned them against each other and tried to destroy their humanity.

As far as anyone outside the Sanctum he cares about, that would really just be Obie, and??—

All at once, Chester realizes why he feels so warm. It’s because there’s someone curled up directly behind him, Chester’s back against their chest and a toned arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders.

His heart jumps into his throat. Oh, crap.

Frantically, he searches through his memories from last night.

He remembers Maggie handing them the manila folder, remembers everything going a bit hazy after that.

He remembers Obie getting them back to Chester’s room in the Sanctum?—he’ll never be able to call it “home” again?—and confirming through the telepathic link that the Sanctum was behind it all.

He remembers sobbing in Obie’s arms while Obie whispered into his hair that he was sorry. Remembers Obie coaxing Chester out of his sneakers and guiding him into bed and holding him close while Chester had a full-scale panic attack.

Holy shit, Chester is in bed with Obadiah Smith. He’s in bed with Nostringvadha. He’s??—

Abruptly, Obie’s arm tightens around him. “Shut up.”

The annoyed command in Obie’s tired voice eases some of the tension in Chester’s chest. “I didn’t say anything,” he protests weakly.

“I can feel you panicking.” Obie’s arm squeezes briefly before relaxing, and Chester is almost disappointed when he pulls away. Slowly, Chester flips over to face him, swallowing hard when they end up almost nose to nose.

Chester’s back is pressed against the wall, so he doesn’t have room to shift away. It’s strangely comforting that Obie doesn’t bother moving, either. “Hi,” Chester says awkwardly.

“Hi.” Obie’s eyes search Chester’s face. “How do you feel?”

Chester almost laughs. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

Obie’s lips press together. “I’m not surprised,” he says quietly. “ That was a lot. And I shouldn’t have put you through it in public. It was an incredibly inconsiderate call on my part, and I’m sorry.”

He looks so sincere about it, too. Chester’s heart aches, but this time, it feels like a good ache. “It could’ve been slightly more tactful,” he hedges, “but, to be fair, you had no idea what Maggie had in that folder.”

“Still.” Obie looks irritated with himself, like last night was an entirely preventable mistake.

Even though all he did was look Maggie in the eye and say they could trust Chester. Even though Chester should be someone Obie doesn’t trust at all. Even though Chester is a Sanctum hunter, an interrogator, someone who’s spent almost a decade torturing demons like him.

And not just demons like him. His adherents, his worshippers, his believers.

The people Nostringvadha cares about, the people he swore to protect.

Bile rises in Chester’s throat at the thought.

How many innocent demons has he hurt over the years?

How many times has he blindly done whatever the Council told him to do? How many??—??

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Chester hears himself say.

“I’m glad it happened like that. If those documents hadn’t come directly from Maggie, I don’t know if I would’ve believed them.

I might’ve thought you tampered with them and just used a name you’d seen around the prison.

” His laugh comes out more bitter than he expected.

“How did they do that? How did they make it so I would defend them even when all the evidence was against them? How could I have been so stupid to believe??—??”

“You’re not stupid,” Obie cuts in sharply, and a tight smile twists on his lips.

“Not this time, at least. The Sanctum took you in when you were young and vulnerable, and they brainwashed you into believing them. It wasn’t your fault.

You were a victim, just like JJ. Just like Roma, too.

None of you deserved what happened to you. ”

Chester’s throat feels tight all over again. Obie’s voice is firm and his gaze is steady, and somehow??—

Somehow, Chester never noticed that Obie’s eyes have little streaks of amber in them. Not quite yellow and not quite orange, but pure amber.

Like something priceless that’s been preserved for millennia and is just waiting to be discovered.

Chester doesn’t know how he never noticed that before, but then again, they’ve never really been this close before. Certainly never close enough to see the tiny details in Obie’s eyes as they search Chester’s, never close enough to feel Obie’s soft breath on his lips??—

And this isn’t the time to think about that. Not right now, anyway. It’s still a problem, just like it was a problem in the softer moments of last night’s bowling league, but maybe??—

Maybe not as much of a problem as it used to be.

Slowly, Chester sits up on the mattress, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

“I want out,” he whispers, and saying the words out loud sends terror and exhilaration sparking through him in equal measures.

“I?—I want to leave the Sanctum. Permanently. I want to defect.”

Obie smiles as he sits up, matching Chester’s pose. “Good. Pack your bags. We can be gone in ten minutes.”

The reply is so effortless, so matter of fact, that Chester barks out an incredulous laugh. “Obie, I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Obie’s eyes narrow. “Don’t be stupid. You’ll stay with me, obviously.

My house is more than big enough for two people.

After you’ve officially defected, we can get Ez and Roma more involved, too?—they’ll definitely prioritize breaking the binding spell once they realize it’s affecting us, not my boyfriend’s idiot friend.

Once we don’t have those distance restraints, you can move into one of my safe apartments, if you want.

Or?—or you can just keep living with me.

That’d be fine, too.” He arches an eyebrow.

“I don’t entirely hate having you around. ”

Chester’s laugh feels shakier this time. “That easy, huh?”

Obie’s smile softens. “Yeah. That easy. Last night was the hardest part, I think. From now on, you can just… be you.” He ducks his head, meeting Chester’s gaze. “I promise.”

Chester’s eyes sting. He presses his thumb and forefinger against them, taking a shaky breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Obie’s hand settles on his shoulder, warm and comforting. “Of course.”

And, for just a moment, Chester lets himself imagine it.

Lets himself imagine waking up in Obie’s guest room, sunlight already tickling his face because he doesn’t have to stress about getting up early to train before his job.

Lets himself imagine stumbling into the kitchen to find Obie already awake and reading a book at the table, a mug of hot cocoa waiting for Chester on the other side.

Imagines settling in next to Obie on the couch to watch a movie, chopping vegetables for a salad while Obie cooks dinner, going on those “triple dates” with JJ and Roma and??—

Chester’s stomach drops. “No.”

Obie pulls his hand away. “No?”

“I?—?” Chester’s heart feels raw. “Bryant. I can’t leave Bryant. I can’t??—?”