Page 62 of Take You Home (Redwater Demons #3)

Nostrand sighs, and for the barest hint of a second, Chester sees the mentor he could’ve been.

“Look, you weren’t a bad kid. You just never had a chance.

The Council threw you in the deep end to watch you drown, and they let you drag me down with you.

That’s really all there is to it,” he says, and he turns away.

“Like I said, make sure you’re around to clean Khan’s room after the spellcasters are done with her.

Our turnover rate isn’t getting any slower, and??—??”

Abruptly, a loud ringtone blares through the room, nearly making Chester jump a foot in the air. Nostrand twists around to glare at him. “Phones on silent in the prison, Locke. I know I taught you that much, at least.”

“That wasn’t me,” Chester argues, looking around. He homes in on the source of the noise?—a pile of confiscated prisoner belongings on a side table?—and grabs the cell phone, glancing down at the screen.

His eyes widen.

Call from O. Smith.

O. Smith? Obadiah Smith? But how did he know to call this phone? How did he??—??

All at once, horror surges through Chester.

Of course. This is Maggie’s cell phone. She was brought in at the tail end of the overnight shift, so the interrogators on duty didn’t have the chance to lock up her belongings. Chester should’ve realized that, should’ve looked for a phone sooner, should’ve known Maggie would have Obie’s number??—

Damn it, he could’ve called Obie hours ago!

Nostrand rolls his eyes. “Oh, so the overnight purebreds couldn’t be bothered to document the demons’ belongings properly?

Figures.” He jerks his head at the lockboxes nearby.

“Lock them up and fill out the paperwork. I’ll vouch for night shift not doing their goddamn jobs if the Council questions it. ”

“Thanks for that,” Chester says faintly, racing through his options at light speed.

Once those lockboxes are closed, they can only be opened by Council members.

If Chester puts Maggie’s phone in there, then he’ll officially lose his only way to contact Obie.

He can’t just slip it into his pocket, not with Nostrand standing right there, and he’s not skilled enough at subterfuge to drop it into a gap in spacetime, instead. That means his only option is??—

To answer it.

Answer the phone, and sign his death warrant.

“Locke,” Nostrand says, snapping his fingers impatiently. “Hurry up.”

No time to think. Steeling himself, Chester swipes into the call and presses the phone to his ear.

For a split second, Nostrand looks genuinely taken aback. “What are you??—??”

“Maggie?” Obie’s voice is like a breath of fresh air, making the tight bands of fear around Chester’s lungs finally start to loosen. “Hey, the twins and I both ended up at the alley for some early-morning bowling?—care to join us?”

Despite everything, Chester almost smiles.

Of course Obie went to Redwater Bowl when he was having a bad day. Of course he found his friends and decided to invite Maggie, too.

That’s just who he is.

“Hello?” Confusion winds through Obie’s voice. “Mags, are you there?”

Chester takes a deep breath. Lets it out slowly.

Looks Nostrand directly in the eye as he says, “I need you to put together a jailbreak as quickly as possible.”

Nostrand snaps to attention, his eyes darkening. “You? ? —? ”

In a flash, Obie’s voice sharpens. “Chester? Chester, is that you? Why do you have Maggie’s phone? Where??—??”

Chester’s eyes burn. “I love you,” he manages, and he throws the phone directly at Nostrand’s face, whipping out his escrima sticks.

Nostrand smacks the phone away with a snarl, his eyes blazing. “Oh, you little shit,” he hisses, snatching a dagger out of a gap in spacetime. “I was right about you from the start. I knew you conniving little bastards couldn’t be trusted?—you and Jackson both.”

“Wow,” Chester says. “And I thought we just had a moment, too.”

Nostrand throws the dagger at Chester with unsettling accuracy, another one instantly appearing in his hand to replace it, but Chester??—

Chester has spent the past few months training with the very best: Bryant Nehemiah of Strike Team Kappa. The blade barely grazes his cheek as he lunges forward, swings his escrima around, and cracks it straight into Nostrand’s skull.

Nostrand crumples to the floor with a thud that Chester barely hears above the adrenaline roaring in his ears. He whirls towards the seventh hallway, calculating how long it’ll take to drag Maggie out of there, how far he can realistically maintain two cloaking spells??—

He’s already shown his hand. Might as well go down swinging.

His heart plummets when Foxe and Safadi run out of the adjacent hallways, blocking Chester’s path. “What’s going on?” Safadi demands, his eyes widening as he registers Nostrand’s unconscious form. “Locke? ? —?”

Foxe whips her crossbow out of its gap in spacetime, the string already drawn back and a bolt already loaded. “Make a move,” she says, her voice clipped and precise, “and I shoot.”

Chester doesn’t doubt her, but there’s no way he’s surrendering. With a silent apology to Sawyer for losing the weapons she bought for him so many years ago, he hurls one of his escrima sticks at Foxe and takes off at a sprint, heading for the prison door.

He contacted Obie once. He can find a way to do it again. They can storm the prison together, save Maggie together??—

Get through this together. Just like they always do.

The prison’s alarm spell network trills a warning on the back of his neck, the Sanctum finally discovering the defection that’s been brewing for weeks.

Chester races down the main hallway, trying to beat the interrogators who are rushing out to stop the threat, trying to escape before they can catch him??—

In the end, he doesn’t even make it to the prison door.