Abruptly, the gears in Obie’s head screech to a halt.
The anti-magic spell work affects both humans and demons, sure. But does it affect a demongod?
Honestly, Obie doesn’t know. He’s never thought to test it, never even thought to ask the question. He’s spent so long hiding his godly nature from his friends and his enemies and theworldthat he sometimes forgets it’s there entirely, staying within the bounds of his regular demonic abilities and only reaching for his innate powers when the situation is dire enough.
Like the time he forced his way into Chester’s head when he, Ez, and JJ broke Cass out of the Sanctum’s prison back in March. That was a clear use of the Memory-Keeper’s abilities, as Chester unfortunately realized.
But was he able to do that because the prison didn’t have specific defenses against memory powers? Or because the Sanctum doesn’t have spell work strong enough to contain Nostringvadha?
There’s only one way to find out. Obie takes a deep breath, taps into his godly powers, and starts pushing at the limits of the Sanctum’s defenses.
8
Chester’s heartbeat is pounding in his ears as he approaches Room 21, casting a quick glance through the one-way glass. The demon inside is already strapped to an interrogation table, magically corrosive leather straps wrapped around her forehead, chest, wrists, hips, and ankles to keep her in place. She’s looking up at the harsh fluorescent lights above her with a perfectly blank expression, like she’s still not entirely sure what she did wrong to end up here, and Chester takes a deep, steadying breath.
According to the file from Safadi, her human name is Laila. She’s a neophyte demon who’s been on Earth for less than two weeks, captured by a Sanctum a few states over and shipped to Redwater for further interrogation.
That’s been happening a lot recently. It’s one of the many oddities that Chester is doing his best to hide from Obie. Usually, if hunters capture a neophyte demon before the Chain does, they’ll keep the demon in their own Sanctum’s prison, but nowadays, it seems like more and more of them are being transferred straight to Redwater.
Chester doesn’t know what they’re doing in this prison that’s so different from the rest of the country, but he has a nagging feeling that the experiments in the purebred-only wing are part of it.
For now, though, this demon is Chester’s responsibility. Her dossier of questions doesn’t include anything too detailed, since she hasn’t been in this dimension long enough to cause trouble. Should be a fairly easy interrogation.
Even so, his palms feel sweaty. Swallowing hard, he wipes them on his uniform pants. Usually, he isn’t nearly this anxious before an interrogation, but usually?—
“Last chance.” Obie’s voice is low and threatening behind him. “Find a way out of it.”
Usually, he doesn’t have Nostringvadha himself watching over his shoulder, either. A sharp twinge of guilt spikes through Chester. Much as he doesn’twantto care about Obie’s emotional state, he knows that Obie isn’t going to react well to watching Chester interrogate one of his people. And, in a twisted way, Chester almost feels like he understands Obie’s reaction.
It shifts uncomfortably close to how Chester felt the two times he was ordered to torture JJ.
But he doesn’t have the luxury of caring about that right now. “It’ll be easier for you if you stay out here,” he says quietly, and he squares his shoulders before pushing open the interrogation room’s door.
Laila’s eyes flicker over to Chester. “Hello.”
Chester smiles tightly back, easing the door shut behind him. A surreptitious glance to the side shows that the video camera—complete with microphone—above the one-way mirror is already recording. Perfect. “Hello. My name is Chester. What’s yours?”
“Laila. That is what they tell me, at least.” Her eyes drift back to the fluorescent lights. “You are not here for friendliness, are you?”
She stumbles over the words, just like most neophyte demons do.Even though they can learn human languages fairly quickly, two weeks isn’t nearly enough time to absorb one as complicated as English. “I can be friendly, if you want,” Chester says, keeping his voice calm and even. “I just have some questions for you.”
“I may answer your questions,” Laila says, tugging at the straps around her wrists. “Can these be loosened? They are painful.”
“Sure,” Chester says, and he walks over to the interrogation table, loosening the restraints by one hole each. Not enough to make a real difference, but just enough to dial down the pain—and build rapport. “Better?”
“Yes.” Laila looks up at him again. “If I answer your questions, will you let me go?”
Chester knows that some interrogators make promises like that, but outright lying to his prisoners has never sat right with him. “I don’t have that kind of authorization,” he says instead. “But, if you cooperate, I can put in a good word for you.”
“Hm.” Laila’s eyes slide back to the ceiling. “What are your questions?”
Chester starts with his easiest. It’s not technically on the list, but it usually helps him map out his strategy for the rest of the interrogation. “Tell me why you think you’re here.”
“To answer questions.”
Good answer. “Why?”
“Because I am new to this dimension. To Earth.” Laila fidgets. “I was told that this dimension is cruel, but I did not knowhowcruel. My own brethren sent me here. I—I trusted them.”
