Page 80 of Take You Home (Redwater Demons #3)
“Oh, that’s not even the half of it,” Chester says, and he’s just opening his mouth to deliver what Bryant assumes are more nonsensically juicy details when a sudden spark of purple-gold blossoms in the middle of the room.
This particular spark looks shaky, though.
Like the person creating the rift is less sure of their ability to open it.
Bryant’s suspicions are confirmed a few seconds later when Roma steps into the apartment with four takeout bags, turns around to squint at the rift, and carefully closes it behind her.
“Roma!” Chester says, looking surprised. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
Roma blinks slowly back at him. “I… thought I was invited?”
Bryant’s eyebrows shoot up. “You thought you were what, now?”
“Well, Ez said that Obie said that Chester said that Bryant said I was invited over for dinner,” Roma says, “but, in hindsight, I’m sensing that I may have been duped.”
Bryant groans, dropping her head into her hands. “So everyone is trying to play relationship therapist now. Great.”
Awkwardly, Roma hefts the takeout bags. “On the bright side, I brought dinner? And I can, um, rift myself home if you two are talking.”
Her eyes dart to Chester. With a pang, Bryant realizes that Roma is probably trying to give her and Chester the space to reconcile without any interruptions.
Well, they’re probably as reconciled as they’re going to get for now. Resignedly, Bryant gestures at the third chair, reaching down to grab her spatula. “Well, you brought food, so I suppose you can stay. And are those human-magic rifts, you know, safe?”
“Well, they haven’t been comprehensively tested yet,” Roma says, delicately placing the takeout bags on the table and settling into the seat, “but no one’s died while using them so far.
That tends to be a good sign.” An unfamiliar gleam?—a vindictive gleam?—flashes through Roma’s eyes.
“And they can get past the Sanctum’s anti-rifting spell work, so I’ll take the win while we have it. ”
Chester’s smile is wolfish. “Yeah. Screwing over the Sanctum is always a win in my book.”
Bryant’s stomach churns. Clearing her throat, she grabs one of the takeout bags and digs around for her plunder.
“Oh, Cachapa Castle? Perfect. It’s been ages since I had a good cachapa,” she says, trying not to think about Roma’s near-militant support of the Council before she defected and how hearing a dissident’s voice come out of her mouth now makes Bryant viscerally uncomfortable in a way that’s hard to define. “What’d you order?”
“I have no idea,” Roma admits, peering into the next bag. “Ooh, it looks like this one is Falafel Express!”
“And these last two are Tacos Near Me and Pad Thai Palace,” Chester finishes, already ignoring them in favor of making grabby hands at the Falafel Express bag. “Ez got us a whole spread.”
“I’m sure she made Obie pay for it,” Roma says.
Undeterred, Bryant unwraps one of the cachapas, grabs a plastic fork and knife out of the bag, and eats her dinner straight off the paper lining, ignoring the fact that she does, in fact, have an actual kitchen with actual plates and actual silverware.
“Speaking of Obie,” she says, “Chester was just about to tell me all the scandalous things he’s been getting up to in the bedroom, and apparently also on interrogation tables. ”
Roma stares at him. “On what, now? ”
“That was indeed a thing,” Chester confirms, digging into his falafel nachos. “Anyway, it was actually just a few days ago?—Obie and I had just gotten back from watching JJ and Cass get engaged when??—?”
Yet another rift swirls open in the middle of Bryant’s apartment. “Oh, come on,” she complains at it. “Stop interrupting the good stuff!”
“Sorry, am I interrupting?” JJ asks, stepping through the rift with a smile. He’s also holding a takeout bag, Bryant notes with some bemusement. How much food do their demonic counterparts think humans eat? “Sorry I’m late. Cass only just told me that you invited us over, Bry.”
“Let me guess,” Bryant says, slinging one arm over the back of her chair. “Cass said that Ez said that Obie said that I said you were invited over for dinner?”
JJ’s smile wavers. “Am I… not?”
His voice comes out smaller than Bryant expected. Actually, he isn’t looking too hot in general. He seems distinctly thinner than he was back at the Sanctum, and judging by the dark smudges under his eyes, Bryant doesn’t know how well he’s been sleeping, either.
Looks like being a defector isn’t all that Chester and Roma claim it is. “Not in so many words,” she says, “but you brought food, so I guess it’s fine. Sit down.”
Cautiously, JJ approaches the last chair and sinks into it. “Thanks,” he says, rifling around in his takeout bag. “Cass sent me over with crepes for dessert. What’s for dinner?”
Chester eyes Roma hunched protectively over her tacos before sliding the last carton of food towards JJ. “Pad thai.”
“Awesome. Love me some pad thai,” JJ says, but strangely enough, he doesn’t even open the container. Maybe he’s not hungry? “So how are you, Bry? We didn’t really get much of a chance to talk the other day after?—after everything. ”
By “everything,” Bryant presumes he means her getting tortured and forced into soul exchanges and such.
Honestly, she’s surprised that Obie hasn’t attempted to send Magdalena Khan over here to complete the quintet of awkwardness.
“Oh, you know,” she says, picking up her spatula for the sole purpose of waving it emphatically. “Living the dream. You?”
“Doing okay!” JJ says. “Cass and I are thinking about a December wedding, as long as everyone is free.”
Bryant almost chokes on her cachapa. “This December? Like, three months from now?”
JJ squints at her. “Yeah. Why?”
“That just seems, uh,” Bryant says. “Fast. You didn’t even know the guy before a few months ago.”
“It’s been more than a few months,” JJ says defensively. “We’ve known each other for at least eight months, and we’ve been dating for around, you know, six of those.”
Bryant rolls her eyes. “Right. Not fast at all. My mistake.”
“I mean, it’s definitely not slow,” JJ hedges. “But we don’t see much of a point in waiting. We’re basically married in all but name, anyway.”
Bryant shrugs. “Okay. Sure. It’s your life, man.”
It looks like JJ fights back a flinch. “Right,” he says quietly.
And what does he expect her to say? That she’s happy for him? That she understands his whirlwind love affair with one of the demons who started World War I?
That she’s okay with him leaving them for his demon boyfriend and their adopted demon child?
There’s a difference between being tactful and straight-up lying, and Bryant isn’t about to entertain the latter, not even for JJ.
Especially not for JJ, frankly .
“Anyway,” Chester says suddenly, “have you considered December 16? It might be cool to get married during a solar eclipse.”
JJ’s eyes light up. “That’s a fantastic idea! I’ll talk to Cass about it.”
Roma grimaces. “Just… be careful, Jayj. Remember all those eclipse chasers? Redwater might just be a warzone on the sixteenth.”
“Ah.” JJ sighs. “Good point. We wouldn’t want the ceremony to be interrupted by a gang of summoners or something.”
Personally, Bryant thinks that sounds like an awesome wedding idea?—what’s the point of having a significant other if you can’t beat up bad guys together?
—but she senses that the rest of the table might not agree with her assessment.
“Sounds good,” she says briskly, cutting off another huge piece of cachapa.
“In any case, Jackson, we have more important matters to discuss.”
Immediately, JJ straightens in his seat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Bryant nods at Chester. “Locke was just about to spill the tea on the tentacle situation with Obie.”
“Hold on,” Chester complains. “It was one thing when I was just telling you about it, Nehemiah. Are you seriously expecting me to detail the intricacies of my sex life with everyone?”
“I can kick Roma and JJ out,” Bryant offers. “It’s my apartment. I have that power.”
“Please don’t kick Roma and JJ out.” Chester gives them an embarrassed smile. “All right. So Obie and I just got back from watching Cass propose to JJ?—congrats on that again, Jayj?—and the Sanctum assigns me to set up the spare interrogation rooms, right? So we get down there, and…”
Bryant works her way through two cachapas and one crepe while Chester waxes poetic about his first night with Nostringvadha, deriving a fair amount of amusement from JJ’s morbidly fascinated expression and Roma’s shamelessly curious one.
The four of them rapidly spiral through topics, as is their custom, bouncing from Chester’s demonic tentacle sex to Roma’s spellcasting experiments to JJ’s admittedly adorable stories from homeschooling his daughter.
They jump around the table, talking and laughing and catching up, and Bryant??—
Bryant doesn’t miss the fact that none of them ask about her life since they all hauled off and defected.
In fact, she barely needs to say a word at all, the rest of them effortlessly maintaining the conversation without her input.
Maybe they’re just trying to be considerate of those multiple breakdowns she mentioned.
Or maybe they don’t really care what the good little purebred soldier has to say anymore.
The four of them are finally sitting around a table again, but somehow, Bryant feels more alone than ever.