“I’ll take my chances,” Cass says. “Partly because I know you’re not going to get your hands on JJ, and partly because there’s no way in hell I’d ever compromise him. You might as well get the gasoline.”
Nasir’s eyes flicker. “Julian said something very similar when he was in your position,” she says, and she looks towards the door. “Isn’t that right, Nostrand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cass twitches at the unfamiliar voice, his eyes flickering towards the door. The strap around his forehead keeps his head mostly immobile, but he catches a glimpse of a man in an interrogator’s uniform hovering just out of sight.
Even without a clear view, though, Cass recognizes the last name. If that’sAdrianNostrand, then JJ has talked about him, too. Apparently, he’s a particularly nasty interrogator with a special hatred for neophyte hunters like JJ and Chester.
And, above all, he tortured JJ. That alone is enough to make Cass put Nostrand on his hit list.
“You have an hour to make him talk,” Nasir says, her voice curt and businesslike once again. “Get him to tell us where Julian is—preferably the demon December, as well. After that, the spellcasters will be in for testing.”
Spellcasters?A chill runs down Cass’s spine. He was under the impression that “testing” was just a thinly veiled euphemism for “torture,” and JJ never made a distinction between the two, either. JJ certainly never mentionedspellcastersbeing involved.
What the hell are they actually doing to demons down here?
“Yes, ma’am,” Nostrand repeats.
With one last distasteful glance at Cass, Nasir strides away and disappears out the door. The locks reengage behind her with a resoundingwhirr,leaving Cass alone with the interrogator.
And Nostrand takes his time setting up his instruments, inspecting each onejustlong enough for Cass to get a good look. Another intimidation tactic, just like making Cass wait before he and Nasir first walked in.
Cass ignores him. After all, Nasir only gave Nostrand an hour to work. Every minute that Nostrand wastes trying—and failing—to scare Cass is another minute that he’s not actively torturing him.
And another minute that Ez, Obie, and JJ have to plan the jailbreak that Cass knows is coming.
Eventually, Nostrand decides on a knife. “You know,” he says conversationally, tracing the tip of his blade down the line of Cass’s ribs, “I cut open your boyfriend a few weeks ago, too. You should’ve heard how he screamed for me.”
Fury burns through Cass. “When I get out of here,” he says, smiling up at him with all his teeth, “I’m going to make it a point to skin you alive.”
“Oh, Chin. You’re never getting out of here,” Nostrand says, and he switches out the knife for a blowtorch.
Obie was right. The Sanctum never patched the loophole that Cass used to rift into the building. That means their initial move, the infiltration itself, goes off without a hitch: Ez wraps invisibility and soundproofing spells around the three of them, opens an invisible rift into the Sanctum’s main hall, and waits for JJ to get his bearings so he can guide them to the prison.
And being back here after all these weeks just feelswrong.The sterile hallways and endless locked doors are just as familiar to JJ as ever, hard and cold and filled with memories he can’t quite forget.
Like the time when ten-year-old Bryant grabbed his arm and gave him the grand tour of his new home, proudly showing her strike team partner everything from the locked purebreds’ floor to the expansive training grounds.
Like the time when twelve-year-old Roma showed him a secret corridor that she and Naomi found years earlier, and she and JJ sat there eating chips and talking for hours, laughing at how many hunters walked past without even noticing them.
Like the time when fourteen-year-old Chester snuck JJ down to the prison to explore long after they were supposed to be in bed, their first—and one of their few—acts of petty rebellion against the Sanctum.
It’s that last memory that JJ follows now, leading the way through the halls as Ez and Obie pad along behind him. It’s not even dusk yet, warm sunlight still streaming through the high-set windows, and JJ bitterly thinks that the weather itself is mocking him.
With Cass gone, there should be a roaring thunderstorm outside, ahurricane.That would be a better match for the screaming hole in JJ’s chest.
At last, they slip down the stairwell to the prison and settle into place next to the locked door. “We’ll need someone with a key card to open it,” JJ whispers. “If we try to brute-force it, we’ll show our hand too early.”
He senses more than sees Ez lean against the wall. “So we just have to stand here and wait?”
JJ checks his cell phone. Tries to ignore the one missed call from Cass. “It’s almost four p.m. If worst comes to worst, change of shift is at eight, but the interrogators usually start cycling out for their dinner breaks right around now. Hopefully, one of them will leave or come back soon, and?—”
Even though Ez’s soundproofing spell hides their conversations from the rest of the world, JJ still cuts himself off when voices float down from the top of the steps. Two interrogators that JJ vaguely recognizes come into view, striding down the stairs to get back to work. JJ strains his ears, listens for anything about Cass?—
Nothing. Not even a passing mention of a high-priority demon in for testing. JJ isn’t surprised—interrogators are trained to be discreet, especially outside of the prison—but a trickle of dread seeps through him anyway.
They’re truly walking into this blind. At worst, it shouldn’t take more than an hour to scour the cells and interrogation rooms for Cass, but?—
But JJ knows firsthand how much damage an interrogator can do in an hour.
