And, judging by Chester’s dejected face, the loss of his friends still feels like a raw wound. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I know. The prison is chaotically busy right now, but—but I’d rather have that than be left alone with my thoughts for too long.”
“Yeah. Same.” Bryant pushes herself to her feet with a groan, grabbing her training bag off the floor. “All right, Locke. I’ll text you if I get back early, but otherwise, it might be another few days.”
“At least we had this morning,” Chester says, reaching across the table to clap her hand. “Stay safe out there, Nehemiah.”
“You, too.” Bryant jogs across the dining hall, drops her tray off at the counter, and disappears out the door, leaving Chester alone at his table.
Alone besides Obie, at least. Chester casts a quick glance around before putting a container of orange juice to his lips. “Are you still here?” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth.
“Where else would Ibe,lackey?”
Chester twitches the slightest bit, like he really was hoping Obie was gone. “I don’t know. You’ve just been quiet.”
“I’ve beenresearching,”Obie says pointedly. “Like some of us should be doing.”
Chester’s jaw works. “I want this spell broken just as much as you do, okay? But I have other responsibilities, and—” All at once, he clams up again, his eyes fixed over Obie’s shoulder. “Give me a minute.”
Fighting back a grimace, Obie turns around in his seat. This time, the hunter walking towards them with a manila folder tucked under one arm looks slightly more familiar, if only because Obie has unfortunately become accustomed to interrogator uniforms over the past week.
“I’ve been looking for you, Locke,” the interrogator says without preamble, putting the folder on the table and sliding it towards Chester. “Chaganti got called in for a meeting with the Council, so your interrogation rotation is starting a few days early. This is your first case.”
Obie’s stomach plummets. Chester’s face is perfectly impassive as he flips open the file. “Thanks, Safadi. Is the demon in an interrogation room yet?”
“Room 21. It’ll be ready and waiting when your shift starts.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
Cool?Obie tastes bile as Safadi turns on his heel and strides away, clearly headed back to the prison. Swallowing hard, he turns to face Chester, whose eyes are fixed on the folder. “They’re putting you back on torturing duty?”
“Interrogation duty,” Chester says shortly. There’s a hard edge to his voice that Obie hasn’t quite heard before now, and his shoulders are tense as he skims over the pages. “And yes. They are.”
He doesn’t offer any more information. Scowling, Obie pushes himself to his feet and leans over the table, looking down at the file. The demon isn’t anyone he knows personally—in fact, she’s from a different state entirely—but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s one of Obie’s brethren, one of hispeople.
And Chester is about to take a knife to her. “You need to call out.”
Chester shoots him a look. “What?”
“You need tocall out.”Panic claws its way up Obie’s throat. “Call in sick. Make up an excuse for why you can’t do it.”
Chester snaps the folder shut and shoves it underneath his arm, glaring straight ahead as he pushes himself to his feet. “Doesn’t work like that,” he says curtly, grabbing his breakfast tray in one hand and his training bag in the other. He deposits the tray back at the counter, jogs up the two flights of stairs to his bedroom, slips inside?—
Obie impatiently waits until Chester locks the door behind them before grabbing his arm to force him around. “I’m not about to watch you torture one of my people,” he hisses, making himself visible again. “Figure out a way to get out of it.”
Chester jerks his arm out of Obie’s grip. “Thendon’twatch,Smith. Stay outside the room and read your spell book.”
Obie’s blood boils. “I’ll break every bone in your body.”
They both know it’s an empty threat, but it still cuts right through him when Chester scoffs. “Not with the binding spell in place, you won’t. And even if Ididcall out, they’d just get another interrogator to do it. Even if you’re not watching, it’ll still be happening. Is that really what you want? To just pretend it isn’t happening?”
Obie grits his teeth. He doesn’t answer.
Chester turns away, grabbing his interrogator uniform and shouldering his way back into the hall. “Besides,” he says, keeping his voice low as he strides towards the showers, “interrogation rotations are usually six-hour shifts. We’ll have more time to research how to break the binding spell.”
Right now, breaking the binding spell is the least of Obie’s worries. Right now, hisonlyconcern is saving that out-of-state demon from a fate that may very well be worse than death. He knows from JJ and Roma that Chester isn’t one of the more sadistic interrogators—in fact, JJ once mentioned that Chester sometimes dissociates entirely duringthe nastiest parts of the torture—but that doesn’t change the fact that he knows what he’s doing. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s skilled.
And if Chester is even half as good at interrogating as he is at his auxiliary duties, then this demon is in for a horrific six hours.
But what can Obie do? Revealing his presence in the Sanctum by breaking her out the old-fashioned way is out of the question, and as long as he’s spellbound to Chester, he would have to kidnap the stupid interrogator to even leave the premises. Couple that with the fact that the prison is filled with all manner of anti-magic spell work, preventing humans and demons alike from casting most spells, and?—
