Page 39 of Take You Home (Redwater Demons #3)

C hester drags his feet up the staircase leading away from the prison, exhaustion lining every inch of him.

He used to enjoy his twelve-hour auxiliary shifts?—with so many different tasks to complete, they seemed to pass in the blink of an eye?—but nowadays, every minute he spends helping the Sanctum instead of burying it feels like an eternity, no matter how busy he is.

And it didn’t help that Obie was off snooping for most of Chester’s shift. He was originally going to sneak into the prison’s purebred-only wing today, but to Chester’s surprise, Obie appeared back at his side within an hour, tightly informing him that he wasn’t able to rift past the doors.

In general, that isn’t a huge deal. It just means that Obie will need to wait for a purebred to enter and invisibly follow them inside. But it did mean his options would be sorely limited on Chester’s day and evening shifts, since most purebred interrogators work the overnight.

And, regardless of how much slack the binding spell seems to be giving them, neither of them wants Obie to be stuck behind closed doors if the bond’s arbitrary time limit rears its ugly head.

Their best option will be for Obie to do some recon during an overnight shift, tracking how often interrogators enter and leave, before slipping in at a later date to explore the area itself.

But all that also begs the question of why he can’t just rift directly inside. The entire prison is covered with anti-rifting spell work, but as Obie figured out back in July, his god powers let him circumvent most of those defensive measures.

So why is the spell work different in the purebred-only wing? What’s so important?—or so dangerous?—that the Sanctum needed to add extra security? Why??—??

A familiar voice jars him out of his thoughts. “Yo, Locke!”

Chester fights back a flinch. Forcing a smile, he turns around to see Bryant jogging to catch up with him. “Hey, Nehemiah. When’d you get back?”

She groans aloud, falling into step next to him. “Like, barely an hour ago. I haven’t even showered yet.”

“Why do you always feel the need to hang out with me before you shower?” He dodges her well-aimed smack as they walk into the dining hall together, his smile coming easier this time.

Lately, hanging out with Bryant has felt like walking on a knife’s edge, treading the delicate balance of avoiding suspicion while subtly testing her loyalties, of acting like the perfect soldier while trying to stoke her doubts??—

Of hiding the discrepancy between the person he used to be and the person he’s becoming.

Sometimes, though, it’s nice to just be two friends messing around before dinner again.

“So what was it this time?” Chester asks, grabbing a tray and walking towards the counter for his food.

Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and spinach tonight.

Solid comfort food after a twelve-hour shift, although he knows Obie has much less flattering opinions of the Sanctum’s culinary choices. “Eclipse chasers or transport gigs?”

“Ugh.” Bryant wrinkles her nose as she steps onto the line behind him.

“We got to take down a grand total of one summoner over the past week of back-to-back assignments. The rest of the jobs were just carting demons between Redwater and Kingsborough. Epsilon and Theta apparently faced off with a bunch of eclipse chasers in Kingsborough, though?—it looks like they’re getting bolder as we get closer to December. ”

Chester wrinkles his nose right back at her. “Gross. I’d hate to see what the day of the actual eclipse is going to look like.”

“Don’t say it like that! I, for one, am looking forward to finally seeing some action.

” She accepts her own food from behind the counter, grabs a dinner roll, and follows Chester to their customary table in the back corner?—far out of earshot of anyone else.

“And I’ll be sure to bring back plenty of stories for you.

Hey, do you think the Council will let non-essential personnel take a break to see totality? ”

Personally, Chester is hoping that he’ll be far away from the Sanctum by December.

He’d love to watch the eclipse with Obie and his friends, eating samosas and teaching Desi how to use eclipse glasses.

“Maybe. But the Council will probably have us on high alert, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they keep everyone besides strike teams and spellcasters indoors. ”

“I don’t know, Locke. They might show their soft side for such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Speaking of which, this?—?” A thick manila folder appears in Bryant’s hands with a flourish, doubtlessly from a gap in spacetime. “?—?is for you.”

A spike of guilt snaps through Chester. “You’re the best, Bry,” he says, taking the folder and quickly glancing through its contents. “Since the beginning of the year, right? And for the entire tristate area? ”

“You doubt me?” She grins. “I’m glad the Council finally gave you a way to redeem yourself. They may be hardasses on the surface, but they always give second chances in the end.”

Chester bites back a grimace. “Uh, yeah,” he says, cutting his meatloaf into neat, identical pieces to avoid her eyes. “I’m… grateful for them.”

The words taste like acid in his mouth, but fortunately, Bryant doesn’t seem to notice. “So what anomalies do they have you looking for?” she asks, ripping a huge chunk out of her dinner roll.

“Well…” Luckily, Chester figured out his cover story before he first asked Bryant to print these files from her personal login?—and Obie agreed that it was reasonable enough to avoid suspicion. “You remember how, um, Jackson lied about the little demon girl escaping?”

Bryant’s face shuts down. “Yes.”

The gnawing guilt gets worse. “I’m basically checking for anything like that. Making sure there aren’t any strike teams in our region with an unusually high incidence of ‘losing’ neophyte demons.”

Bryant lets out a slow breath. “I hate to think that it’s even necessary, but it makes sense. We don’t want any more hunters to get brainwashed as badly as Jackson did.”

Chester hesitates, shooting her a quick glance. “I’ve been… meaning to ask you about that, actually,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “Do you really think the little demon tried to brainwash him? Or do you think he just didn’t want to hurt her because she looked like his younger sister?”

Bryant’s eyebrows furrow. “Isn’t it the same difference? I thought you said the demon specifically changed its human facade to look like her.”

Chester winces. While that’s completely true, he was hoping Bryant had forgotten that little detail. He originally thought that Desi was intentionally trying to manipulate JJ by taking Lucy’s appearance, but??—

But when Chester mentioned that to Obie, Obie just gave him a strange look and said that Desi wanted to look like JJ because she liked him.

And, after seeing Desi’s bright smile and cheerful people-climbing skills in action, Chester doesn’t have any doubt that her appearance was an innocent decision.

“Well, yeah,” he says, focusing far too much attention on opening his apple juice carton.

“But do you think it was, you know, specifically to manipulate him? Or?—or just because she wanted him to like her?”

Bryant looks increasingly bewildered. “I still don’t see a difference, Locke. What are you getting at?”

Damn it. Over the past few weeks, Chester has been casually testing the waters with Bryant, trying to find any chinks in her armor, trying to see if her love for JJ and Roma could ever overshadow her hatred of demons??—

So far, though, she’s not giving him much to work with.

He’s starting to worry that the only way he’ll be able to convince her to defect is with definitive physical proof, and that’s something they still don’t have.

“I’ve just been thinking about Jackson’s situation a lot lately,” he lies, eating a forkful of spinach without really tasting it.

“Gutierrez’s, too. So I?—I guess I’m wondering if both Chin and December are manipulating Jackson, or if it’s mainly Chin. You know?”

“Hm…” Bryant idly mashes her meatloaf and potatoes together while she thinks, grinning when Chester wrinkles his nose at her. She knows how he feels about different foods touching. “To figure out how to break the demons’ hold on him, you mean?”

Not at all. “Right.”

After a long moment, Bryant looks away. “I’m not sure it matters,” she admits quietly.

“I don’t think December is purposely brainwashing him, though?—not like Chin is.

All of our research indicates that a demon’s developmental age usually correlates with its physical age, so December probably can’t pull off a con like that yet?—not if she has the mindset of a toddler.

” Her jaw twitches. “But that doesn’t matter, because JJ?—because Jackson loves her.

He considers her his… daughter. And he considers Chin his boyfriend or whatever.

He won’t leave them behind without a fight?—he’s loyal to a fault.

Or we thought he was, at least,” she finishes briskly, tearing another aggressive bite out of her roll.

Chester’s chest hurts. “You’re probably right,” he says, looking down at his plate. “Sorry for bringing it up. I still just want to?—to save them. You know?”

Without warning, warm fingers wrap around Chester’s shoulder.

He almost starts with surprise. You could try asking how she thinks JJ and Roma are being treated, Obie suggests, his calming voice swirling through Chester’s head and instantly easing a tension just behind his sternum.

Part of what convinced you that they weren’t being manipulated was seeing how well Cass and Ez treat them, right?

Affection surges through Chester. Weeks ago, he’s sure Obie would’ve jumped to conclusions after hearing the wrong half of that conversation, but now, he trusts Chester enough to know that he’s just trying to poke at Bryant’s defenses.

Just trying to figure out how to get her out of here with them.

Thank you, Chester pushes back through the bond.

Out loud, he says, “And I’m still confused about how they’re being treated, too.

Not all abuse is physical, obviously, but every time we’ve seen Jackson and Gutierrez, they’ve looked…

pretty much fine. And the entire Redwater Food Truck Association seems to know them, right?

So Chin and Laguerre clearly aren’t keeping them isolated.

What else could they be doing to keep them away from us? ”

Bryant frowns deeply, pondering Chester’s words, and Chester internally fist-pumps. The more he can make her consider the possibility that Cass and Ez truly love JJ and Roma, the easier it’ll be to convince her that not all demons are evil?—and not all hunters are innocent.

“I don’t know, either,” Bryant says at last, her head tipping to one side with interest, “but we might be able to figure it out. You found all those records of demon–human relationships in the library right after Jackson defected, remember? About demons seducing humans for one reason or another?”

Chester’s heart sinks. She’s right, he says through the telepathic link, but all of those records are heavily biased against demons. The Sanctum picks and chooses the worst case studies to stock there?—like, the ones with truly sociopathic demons manipulating and abusing humans.

Obie’s answering sigh winds through Chester’s head. Don’t worry, puppy. We’ll convince her eventually. We just need to find the right angle.

I sure hope so. Outwardly, Chester forces a smile. “Good idea, Bry. I’ll review them again, see if I find anything new,” he says, and he clears his throat, tapping the manila folder. “Also, with?—with these documents you printed for me. You didn’t tell anyone I asked for them, right?”

Bryant pauses with a forkful of mashed potatoes halfway to her mouth, her eyes narrowing. “Uh, no. I didn’t see a need to. Why?”

Another wave of guilt wracks through Chester.

He looks away. “Because I don’t want the Council to know that I asked for help,” he says, trying to sound as humiliated as possible.

“But I read through this assignment three times, and?—and I couldn’t find the access codes for the strike teams’ files.

Frankly, I was too scared to ask for clarification?—I don’t want them to think I’m even more incompetent than they already do.

” He darts his eyes back to her. “Could you please keep it on the down low that I asked for help? Just for now? ”

A quiet whistle whirls through Chester’s mind. That was slick, Locke. We’ll make an actor out of you yet.

Bryant’s lips twist in a rueful smile. “Of course I can,” she says, reaching across the table to punch his arm. “We need to get you back on the Council’s good side as quickly as possible, after all. I’m happy to do my part.”

“Thanks, Nehemiah,” Chester says, flashing her a grateful smile, and the two of them finish their meals in companionable silence, his shoulder comfortably warm under the weight of Obie’s palm.