A faint tremor runs through Chester, and with a start, Obie realizes that he’s still holding Chester’s hand. Before he can let go, Chester’s fingers twitch tighter around Obie’s palm. “What kind of error?” he asks Maggie haltingly.
“They fabricated a demon from scratch instead of trying to use someone else’s signature,” Maggie says, handing the folder to Obie. “They named her Teresa Rose. I started seeing her signature fairly soon after Ricci and Devereux bailed, but I didn’t think anything of it at first—I just presumed she was a new employee.” Her jaw tightens. “But when I looked more closely, I realized that not only was Teresa never in her Outpost, but it was impossible to contact her. No property records, not even on the human side. The Chain ‘registered’ her, but all of her personal information fell apart the moment I checked it. Eventually, I did a minor tracking spell and came up empty. Teresa Rose doesn’t exist, but her name has been all over transfer documents. They’re using her as their new cover to send neophyte demons to the Sanctum.”
Obie flips through the folder, excitement racing down his spine. Magdalena Khan never leaves any stone unturned, and it’s abundantly clear just how much time and effort she put into this investigation. Every result is meticulously cataloged, every anomaly is scrupulously examined?—
It’s not enough to unravel the entire conspiracy, but it’s a damn good place to start. She even tracked down the demon who allegedly registered Teresa, and he’s not even from the Education or Registration departments—no, he’s from Central Office, the Chain’s highest bureaucracy. Obie taps the offending piece of information. “They’re barely even trying to hide it.”
“Well, most of the Chain’s upper echelons never assimilated toEarth,” Maggie says. “They all just want to find a way back to Tamaros. And if they somehow think sending neophyte demons to their deaths will help them accomplish that, then I’m sure they’re all for it.”
“As long as the rest of us never found out,” Obie agrees grimly. “Do you have copies of these?”
Maggie nods. “I do. That folder is specifically for you—I keep my own documents in a secure pocket dimension. And you have… connections that I don’t.”
Micah, Gregorio, Sawyer, and Naomi. Their own little Conspiracy Family. “They’re your connections, too,” Obie says quietly. “I promise I’ll get you in a room with them soon. I know they’d love to ask you more about your investigation—and the Public Safety Department in general.”
Maggie’s smile is tight and vindictive, and with a stab of sympathy, Obie remembers that she’s brought countless neophyte demons to the Education Department over the decades. All that time, she never even thought to question that she was helping, that she was doing something good, that she was saving their newly summoned brothers and sisters?—
Promising them that they’d be safe while unknowingly leading them straight into the lion’s den. Obie would want revenge, too.
He jumps when Chester grabs the edge of the folder, tugging gently. “Can I see?”
There’s the barest hint of a tremor in his voice. Steeling himself, Obie hands it over. “Sure. See if you can find any loopholes.”
Obie knows he won’t. Maggie does good work, and her case is rock solid. He watches Chester’s face as he skims the pages, his eyes flitting over the lines of text?—
All at once, he stops dead. “Teresa Rose,” he repeats, his voiceverysmall. “T. Rose.”
He doesn’t pronounce her surname like the flower—instead, he almost pronounces it with a “z” sound. Frowning, Obie looks over Chester’s shoulder, following his gaze to the signature line that made him freeze?—
His blood runs cold.
T. Roz.
Chester has seen that signature before. Obie has, too. He’s probably seen it around the Sanctum’s prison a dozen times without even looking for it, seen it in chain-of-custody binders whenever Chester reorganizes them and computer screens whenever he reviews transfer records.
But the first time Obie saw it was a month ago, back when an alleged new-to-Redwater hunter appeared out of the blue to drop off some demons overnight. In a flash, Foxe’s cavalier voice flies through his mind.
Night shift forgot to make a digital profile for this hunter. You know how to do that, right?
This is the Chain’s new scapegoat. This is the pseudonym they’re using to avoid suspicion with the Sanctum’s mixed-breed interrogators. Hell, Chester made her digital profile himself.
This is their smoking gun.
Chester presses a hand to his mouth, his shoulders hunching. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Obie’s stomach plummets. Maggie’s eyes widen. “Kyle, what’s wrong? Are you?—?”
Hastily, Obie wraps an arm around Chester, pulling him against his side. Unlike when Obie semi-playfully grabbed him earlier, Chester nearly leans half of his body weight on Obie now, like his legs are about to give way beneath him. “He’ll be fine,” Obie assures Maggie, ignoring the frantic voice in his head telling him that no, youidiot,why would you give Chester proof that his entire life is a lie inthe middle of abowling alley?“He’s just, um, always had his doubts about the conspiracy. He hates thinking anyone could be that evil.”
“Ah.” Maggie nods slowly, her eyes still fixed on Chester. “Do you want a cup of water? Come over to the sitting area—you can relax for a few minutes, and?—”
“I—” Chester’s voice chokes off. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
Shit.“Actually, we should head out,” Obie says, thinking fast. “Tell the twins that, uh, something came up. You can take over for me for the rest of the night. Hopefully, you’ll have better luck now, yeah?”
Still looking at Chester with concern, Maggie nods again and steps back. “Of course. Get home safe.”
“We will.” Obie tightens his grip on Chester and drags him away without a backwards glance, steering him into the cool night air. Guiding Chester through a rift back to his bedroom in the Sanctum, waving a precautionary soundproofing spell into place, briefly releasing him to make sure the door is locked?—
