Page 45 of Take You Home (Redwater Demons #3)

O bie nods slowly, watching Memory Nostrand repeat his instructions to a shell-shocked Memory Chester. “You were right. Actually, by Nostrand standards, that almost seemed like it passed for ‘nice.’”

“Well, my actions did still reflect on him at this point,” Chester says.

“If I had a panic attack in public, it would’ve looked bad for him, but?—but yeah.

Yeah, I think even he realized that was a step too far.

No one else?—not a purebred, not a mixed breed?—would’ve been asked to do something like that for a final exam.

” His eyes flicker towards Obie. “Can we watch for another few minutes? I want to see something.”

“Sure. Should I skip ahead?”

Chester shakes his head. “No, it’s coming up soon. Bryant and Roma told me afterward that they waited outside the prison for me, but I don’t remember seeing them. I could’ve been in shock or something, but?—?” He cuts himself off. “I’d just, um. Like to see them. If that’s okay. ”

Obie’s heart hurts. Even though Chester sees Bryant whenever she’s not on missions and even saw Roma last week at lunch, he hasn’t seen Bryant and Roma together?—hasn’t seen his friends all together?—in months.

Obie can give him that. “Of course,” he says, and he settles in next to Chester, watching the memoryscape play out in front of them.

Head down, speak to no one, walk to your room.

The trek down the prison’s main hallway seemed both longer and shorter than usual. Lights too bright, footsteps too loud. A few faces swam in Chester’s peripheral vision, interrogators and prisoners blurring together, but he didn’t make eye contact with any of them.

Head down, speak to no one, walk to your room.

That couldn’t have just happened. That couldn’t have just happened. That couldn’t have??—

The door to the prison loomed ahead of him. He swiped his key card and shouldered his way out into the Sanctum proper, the staircase looking far steeper and narrower than usual.

Head down, speak to no one, walk to your room.

Two more faces out of the corner of his eye. They abruptly stopped talking when he appeared. “Chester,” Roma began, stepping forward.

Chester walked straight past her, his gaze still locked on the floor.

Head down, speak to no one, walk to your room.

Just on the edge of Chester’s earshot, Bryant’s voice drifted up to him. “Damn. He looks even more like crap than I thought he would.”

Obie snorts before he can stop himself. “There’s Bryant’s famous lack of tact.”

Chester’s smile is shaky, but at least it’s there. “To be fair, I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean for me to hear that,” he says, settling back against the wall. “And I don’t remember her saying it, so I guess she succeeded.”

Obie tracks Memory Chester’s progress in the memoryscape as he hurries up the stairs to his third-floor bedroom. “Did they try to follow you?”

Chester shakes his head. “They decided to divide and conquer. Roma waited there for JJ, and Bryant came after me.”

Obie arches an eyebrow. “How’d that go?”

Chester’s lips twitch. “Surprisingly okay. Bryant is capable of being tactful when she’s called upon. It’s just not her default state, so??—?”

A retching sob cuts Chester off. Instinctively, Obie drops Chester’s hand, leaning forward to focus on the memoryscape. “What the hell was??—??”

All at once, his heart seizes.

Memory Chester is on his knees on the cold tile floor of his room’s bathroom, his fingers gripping the toilet seat. He dry heaves again, his eyes squeezing shut and his face screwing up, but it looks like he’s already thrown up everything in his stomach.

And then he chokes on another sob, his forehead dropping to the porcelain as he tries to breathe.

Obie’s eyes sting. He fights down the irrational urge to smooth Memory Chester’s hair back from his forehead. “You were so young,” he repeats quietly.

Chester’s eyes linger on his younger self. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I guess I was. Sometimes, though, it’s?—it’s just easier to pretend that I wasn’t. ”

Before Obie can ask what he means, Memory Chester spits into the bowl one last time, clambers to his feet, and flushes the toilet. Washes his hands, stumbles over to his bed, and collapses onto the mattress, shivering.

Obie’s chest hurts. “Please tell me Bryant is going to show up soon.”

Chester nods. “If I remember correctly, she should be??—?”

Right on cue, there’s a knock on the door. Memory Bryant’s voice floats inside. “Chester?”

Memory Chester flinches. He squeezes his eyes shut, curling up into a ball.

Another knock. “Chester? Locke, you there?”

Memory Chester still doesn’t answer.

Obie raises his eyebrows at the real Chester. “Wow. You straight-up ignored her, didn’t you?”

There’s a fond smile on Chester’s face. “Wait for it.”

Unexpectedly, there was a quiet clinking sound from the direction of Chester’s door. Within seconds, Bryant unceremoniously opened it, dropped her lockpick back into a gap in spacetime, and sauntered over to Chester’s bed.

Chester gaped up at her. His brain wasn’t quite firing on all cylinders just yet, but he was fairly certain that this situation was breaking several rules of etiquette and also some actual laws. “I’m sorry. Did you just break into my room?”

Bryant made a show of looking from Chester to the door and back again. “Would you look at that? Seems like I did.” She poked his shoulder. “Scooch over. ”

“Isn’t there some kind of rule about not being alone in a room with someone of the opposite sex?”

Suddenly, Chester snorts. “Clearly, I didn’t realize I was gay yet.”

Obie’s brain promptly derails. Sure, he’s suspected that Chester is attracted to men, but he’s never confirmed it so bluntly before. “You are?”

Chester squints at him. “Obie, we’re literally dating.”

The words make Obie’s chest feel squiggly. Viciously, he forces the squiggles down. “We’re literally fake- dating. Big difference.”

“And I’m a damn good fake boyfriend,” Chester says loftily.

Yeah. You are. Obie is fervently glad that he already released Chester’s hand, because frankly, he doesn’t know how he’d explain that remark if it slipped through their telepathic link. Forcing a smile, he rewinds the memory a few seconds.

“Isn’t there some kind of rule about not being alone in a room with someone of the opposite sex?”

“Rules are made to be broken, Locke.” Bryant poked his shoulder again. “Now scooch. I’m joining you.”

Chester still felt utterly out of his depth, but he scooched to the wall side of the mattress anyway. Bryant sprawled out next to him, like it was perfectly normal for her to just invite herself into other people’s beds.

For a few long moments, silence reigned. And then??—

“It was JJ.” Chester’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling. Not watching Bryant’s reaction to the words. “My final exam was?—was to interrogate JJ.”

“I know.” Bryant’s voice was neutral, but quieter than usual. Kind of like Nostrand’s was, Chester registered distantly. “Pretty sure the whole Sanctum knows by now, actually.”

Chester squeezed his eyes shut. “It was bad, Bryant.”

“I know.”

“He hates me now.” Chester didn’t phrase it as a question. “Right?”

Bryant’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course he doesn’t hate you, stupid. He volunteered, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was before?—?” Chester cut himself off. “That was before he knew how bad it would be. Nine hours, Bryant. That’s?—that’s not nothing.”

All at once, Bryant’s eyes gleamed. “You’re right. It wasn’t nothing. And that’s exactly why it was the best possible outcome for both of you.”

Chester’s eyes snapped over to her. “What?”

Bryant pushed herself up on one elbow, turning to face him.

“Chester, people don’t volunteer to be fake dissidents for final exams, not even purebreds.

It’s incredibly rare?—so rare, in fact, that I don’t think it’s ever actually happened in this Sanctum.

” She leans forward. “But JJ, a neophyte hunter, chose to volunteer. And you, a neophyte hunter, agreed to that assignment. You interrogated your best friend for nine hours straight. JJ lasted for nine hours straight. And now, no one in the Sanctum can deny that the two hunters at the very bottom of the hierarchy pulled off the most impressive feat of the entire decade.”

The speech sounded strangely familiar. Belatedly, Nostrand’s words from earlier finally sank into Chester’s brain. “It was… good for my status? ”

“Yours and JJ’s,” Bryant said. “Frankly, I think JJ’s going to benefit more than you. A few of the other interrogators watched parts of your exam, and from what they said?—?” She hesitated. “They said that, uh. That you didn’t hold back.”

Chester flinched. “Bry??—?”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Bryant said emphatically. “The spellcasters healed JJ, remember? He’s fine now. But the fact that he didn’t break even though it was a fake assignment and you interrogated him thoroughly? That counts for a lot.”

“How is he?” A tremor threaded through Chester’s voice. “JJ.”

“Probably hungry,” Bryant said. “You had him there for nine hours, Locke. The poor man deserves a sandwich, at least.”

Chester’s laugh was shaky. “Seriously, Bryant.”

“Roma’s debriefing with him right now. And we all know how good Roma is with this kind of thing.” She nudged her elbow into his ribs. “Unfortunately, she can’t be in two places at once, so you’re stuck with me.”

“I’ll say,” Chester said, narrowing his eyes at the far end of the mattress. “You’re wearing sneakers in my bed.”

Bryant sputtered indignantly. “So are you!”

Chester poked her in the side. “Off with you. Off.”

“Bossy,” Bryant grumbled, and she flopped off the bed, extending a hand. “Roma said she and JJ would meet us in the dining hall. Want to head down there?”

After a long moment, Chester smiled, putting his hand into hers. “Let’s,” he agreed, and they walked to the dining hall side by side.

“I can see why you’re so adamant about not leaving Bryant behind,” Obie admits, watching Memory Bryant unceremoniously drag Memory Chester out of the room. “She’s good people.”