“Because that takes all the fun out of it,” Obie says, and he turns back to George. “Please, go on.”
As Nack Bar George continues the admittedly captivating story of how he got kicked out of a strip club in Las Vegas for trying to convince the dancers to unionize, Chester takes the opportunity to glance around at the many patrons of Redwater Bowl, letting out a slow breath.
He can’t believe Obie wasn’t willing to miss his stupid bowling league tonight. From how scandalized he looked when Chester even dared to suggest that he skip it while the two of them are, oh,magically spellboundtogether,Chester was sure that it must’ve been a high-stakes tournament with devastating repercussions if its star player didn’t show up to save the day. Hell, Obie even snuck Chester a pair of bowling shoes to wear when the front desk clerk’s back was turned.
Instead, it seems more like Obie just hanging out with three friends—plus Nack Bar George and various other bowlers, because Obie apparently knows everyone in this godforsaken alley. And he isn’t actually that good at bowling, a fact that amuses Chester to no end.
He’s not sure if it’s more or less amusing that Maggie Khan, one of the most feared demons in Redwater, is also on this bowling team, and that she’salsonot that good. When Chester first spotted her walking towards them, he frantically hissed at Obie that they neededto get out of therenow,but Obie just rolled his eyes and said she wouldn’t be able to sense him.
He failed to provide any other explanation, so Chester is hoping he’s right. Honestly, he doesn’t have the slightest idea what kind of spell work Obie wove around him for tonight. There’s clearly an invisibility spell and a soundproofing spell involved, but beyond that, Chester is clueless.
Frankly, he doesn’t even think Obie himself knows the full extent of it. Chester is slowly starting to realize that Obie doesn’t have the slightest concept of how normal demon abilities compare togodlydemon abilities, and that he’s just been using his massive lifespan to explain away any inconsistencies.
Chester also suspects that he’s been vastly overestimating the local demons’ intelligence for years now, but he figures that’s beside the point.
Sighing, he turns his attention back to the spellcasting textbook he brought with him. It’s been exactly one week since he screwed up the binding spell and subsequently screwed up his entire life, but despite the fact that he’s spent all his spare time researching—and that Obie, as an unemployed billionaire who doesn’t need to sleep, has spent even more time researching—they’re still no closer to a workable counterspell than before.
They’ve already tried a few point-by-point reversal variations using the originalMagic-Weaver’sincantation, but to Chester’s chagrin, none of them made even the slightest dent in the spell. That’s pretty much tacit confirmation that Obie’s instincts were right: Chester made a pre-casting error that changed the spell itself.
And, since Chester still refuses to let Obie poke around in his brain and Obie still refuses to let Chester watch him request a spell from the Deep, they don’t knowhowthe spell is different. Chester has beentrying to self-diagnose what he could’ve messed up, but none of his old textbooks are helping.
In short, it’s less like they’re back to square one and more like they never left that particular square in the first place.
“… and that’s how I ended up at drag brunch with half a club of exotic dancers, a sizeable portion of the local police department, and the president of a small European nation,” Nack Bar George finishes proudly. “The end.”
Sasha shoots Obie a reproachful look. Sasha, as Chester has learned via observation and eavesdropping over the course of the evening, is a grad student with an incredible fondness for curly fries. “You didn’t actually do any getaway driving.”
“But I was prepared to,” Obie says. “I had the key in the ignition and everything.”
“That doesn’t count, man,” Trevor says solemnly, shaking his head. Trevor, Chester has deduced, is Sasha’s twin brother who works in the aquarium across town, which Chester will readily admit sounds like an awesome job.
He gets to hang out with the otters. Chester would love to hang out with some otters.
“I was there as backup and moral support!” Obie argues. “My contributions were valid!”
Maggie still looks flummoxed by this entire conversation. “But did the dancers ever unionize?”
“Sadly, no,” Nack Bar George says. “But they did instigate a class-action lawsuit against the club for unlawful business practices, so I still consider it a win for the people.” An alarm goes off in the general vicinity of the deep fryer; cheerfully, he pulls up a basket of mozzarella sticks and dumps them onto the team’s shared tray. “And here’s another win for the people! Bon appétit, bowlers. Go get some strikes!”
“Thanks, George,” Obie says, shoving a twenty into the tip jar and hefting the tray on one arm. His teammates follow hot on his heels as he leads the way back to the sitting area, and they descend on the paper cartons of food like hungry vultures, piling their individual plates high with their plunder.
Chester’s stomach rumbles. He may have eaten an early dinner back at the Sanctum, but it can’t be denied that Redwater Bowl’s fried goods look and smell like heaven. Too bad he can’t snack on them while invisible.
Grimacing, Chester leans his hip against the team’s table, watching as Obie jogs over to take the turn he’s been neglecting for the past ten minutes. Two throws later, the pins are standing just as upright as before, standing vigil like they’re personally mocking him.
Despite the abject failure, Obie high-fives Maggie as she walks up to the approach to take his place. “A clean zero!” he announces to Trevor and Sasha, who are busy squabbling over the last boneless wing on the communal tray. “A momentous occasion.”
“A true accomplishment,” Trevor agrees, holding up a hand for a fist bump. Chester watches with some amusement as Sasha stealthily reaches towards the plate while he’s distracted. “Doing the noble work of maintaining our losing streak, and—hey!”
“What?” Sasha asks, shoving the entire wing in her mouth. “You snooze, you lose.”
Obie grins as they promptly start bickering again, and a strange pang twines through Chester at the sight. This might just be the first time he’s ever seen Obie truly in his element, ever seen Obie trulyhappy.
It makes him seem more human. Part of Chester wants to believe that Obie dragged him out to bowling league tonight for exactly that purpose, to make Chester sympathize with him or see him as less of a threat, but?—
But a larger part of him thinks that Obie really does love this alley and these people as much as he claims he does. Chester doesn’t like it. He only wants to know Obie as the belligerent demon god who scowls at him from across his bedroom; he doesn’t want to see Obie as an actual person who likes bowling and mozzarella sticks.
Doesn’t want to watch him hanging out with his friends in a group that’s uncomfortably reminiscent of how Chester, Bryant, JJ, and Roma used to be.
