Judging by the dead look on Chester’s face as he did it, he hated it just as much as Obie did.
“Doyou understand, though?” Nasir’s voice is so dismissive that Obie almost flinches right alongside Chester. “Redwater is at the epicenter of groundbreaking work right now. We’ve earned a reputation for having the most efficient and effective prison on the EastCoast, maybe even in the entire country. I won’t have your failures marring our good name.”
It wasonemistake—or alleged mistake, at least. Guilt stabs through Obie as Chester continues staring at his sneakers, his breathing noticeably more unsteady than before.
Obie knew that Chester was on shaky ground here at the Sanctum. JJ has told him as much. But he didn’t realize just how shaky until today.
“You’re being taken off active interrogation duty, starting now,” the councilwoman says, and Chester’s head snaps up. “We can’t afford any more of your negligence, Chester. You’ll be doing auxiliary work to support our more skilled interrogators, andifwe decide to reinstate your full status, we’ll expect you to perform up to our standards. Do I make myself clear?”
Chester nods jerkily. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” She gestures impatiently at him, already turning back to her computer. Like he’s a particularly mangy dog that she’s shooing outside. “You’re dismissed. Get back to work. I want that bloodied interrogation room spotless by the top of the hour.”
Another twenty-minute task that Chester will have less than ten minutes to complete. He doesn’t even seem to notice, though. “Yes, ma’am,” he repeats, and he hastily backs out of the room, shutting the door behind him with trembling hands.
Obie breaks into a jog to catch up, falling into step beside Chester as he strides down the hall. His heart cracks a little when Chester pulls his sleeve down over his wrist and scrubs his eyes with it, clearly fighting back tears. “You happy now?” he mumbles, his voice quiet and biting.
Obie grimaces. “Not really,” he admits softly.
Chester doesn’t answer. His footsteps are fast and his breathingshakes all the way down the hall, but by the time they descend the staircase to the prison, his expression is determinedly neutral again. He swipes his key card at the door, keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead, makes a beeline for Room 21?—
Obie follows more slowly, his eyes narrowing at the other interrogators. Several of them sneer or shoot Chester disdainful looks as he speed-walks by, Foxe downright scoffing in his direction, and a slow thrum of anger builds behind Obie’s sternum.
Just days ago, half of these interrogators were taking advantage of Chester’s expertise. Do they truly think he’s incompetent now? Are they just following Nasir’s lead?
Or do they actually like it when Chester is on the Council’s hit list?
After what seems like far too long in the unforgiving hallways, they arrive back in the interrogation room. Chester locks the door behind them and closes the blinds over the one-way mirror, shielding them from the other hunters’ accusing eyes. Laila’s human façade is still on the interrogation table, her neck bloody from Chester’s knife, and Obie fights back a wince.
But Chester just walks to the closet, pulls out his cleaning supplies, and sets a bucket under the faucet. “You killed her.”
It’s not a question, but Obie answers it anyway. “No. I just disconnected her soul from her human body. She’ll be adrift for a while, but she should be able to reform herself in a few days—in a different façade, this time.”
Chester glances up at him, frowning. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he says, and then he laughs shortly, carrying the bucket of water over to the worst of the mess and getting to work. “Then again, I don’t know a lot of things about you, Nostringvadha.”
There’s something unexpected in his tone. Not fear or revulsion, not respect or affection, but maybe?—
Maybe curiosity. Obie checks that the video camera is still off before making himself visible, grabbing a pair of disposable gloves to match Chester’s, and picking up a sponge. “Scooch over,” he orders, and he kneels down next to Chester, helping him clean the blood off the floor. “What do you want to know?”
Chester throws him a sideways glance, but he doesn’t protest as Obie starts scrubbing. “Can you really get into the gods’ inner realm?”
“I sincerely doubt it,” Obie says, wringing out his sponge over the bucket. “But I haven’t tried. If I even attempted to open a rift back there, they’d probably kill me before I could so much as peek inside. They’re not particularly fond of me, and they’re much more powerful than I am.”
A shiver runs through Chester. “Hard to imagine.”
For a split second, Obie wonders what that glimpse of Nostringvadha looked like from Chester’s point of view—what his true form looked like to Chester, especially. “When I first arrived on Earth,” he says cautiously, “I knew that I needed a physical body. But the area where I landed wasn’t populated by humans yet, and concepts like human façades and true forms obviously didn’t exist. So I mimicked features from all the creatures around me—mammals, birds, reptiles. Everything.” A smile tugs on his lips at the memories. “Once I found a human tribe, I settled on a more humanlike appearance to avoid frightening them, but—but I kept a lot of my original influences, too.”
“Hm.” Chester grabs the bucket, carries it over to the sink, and dumps out the blood-tinged water, turning on the faucet to refill it. “So were summoners the first to give demons human façades? Or did you teach neophytes how to do that?”
It’s a surprisingly perceptive question. “No, that was me. The earliest summoners thought that all demons looked nightmarish and horrifying, like—like me, so they only gave neophytes their ‘trueforms.’ Once those demons were freed from their summoners, I showed them how to blend in with the humans.” He laughs bitterly. “Sometimes, though, I wish I hadn’t. Sometimes, I think it would’ve been easier if I’d taught them how to be fish or birds. Something less bound to the earth, you know? More like color and light and sound. But I…” He looks down at the blood on the tiles, remembering Ada’s broad smile and Kai’s tinkling laugh. “I thought they’d feel more… fulfilled… with humans.”
Chester sets the bucket back on the floor between them. “Yeah, well. Humans suck.”
Obie snorts with surprise. “Yeah. You kind of do. But demons suck sometimes, too. So I guess we’re even on that front.”
Chester’s lips quirk up the slightest bit. He goes back to scrubbing with his shoulders a little more relaxed than before.
“You…” Obie eyes him carefully. “You didn’t torture her. Laila, I mean.”
