Obie will never admit that he really does. Hastily, he tunes back in to his verbal conversation just in time to hear Gregorio say, “As long as you’re sure, then we’ll back your play. Just…” He lets out his breath in a hiss, glancing over his shoulder. “Try not to antagonize Solomon and Gutierrez. They sort of mean a lot to us.”
A pang twists through Obie. A few weeks ago, he would’ve rolled his eyes at Gregorio and Micah slumming it with their defected hunters, but now?—
Well. Obie has his own semi-defected hunter to slum with now. “I’ll tone it down a bit,” he promises, reaching for the doorknob. “And I’ll be back next week with another haul. Later.”
Micah’s jaw drops.“Anotherhaul? How quickly can your contact possibly work? Obie?—”
Obie absconds out the door before either of them can protest, jogging down the steps and escaping across the street. “Well, that was mildly unpleasant,” he says out loud.
Chester’s hand finds his shoulder again.That just seemed like standard Sawyer and Naomi to me. It’s good to know that some things never change.
That same edge is back in Chester’s voice. Obie’s heart twinges as he slows back to a walk, letting Chester match his pace.They’re doing well, I think,he throws out cautiously.It’s still not okay that they left you behind, but it’s good that they’re doing well, right?
Yeah. Especially if they’re helping us burn the Sanctum to the ground.
Obie’s lips twitch. That’s his hunter.Oh, I do love it when you talk dirty to me.
Chester’s laugh is sudden and audible. Obie can’t resist a smile.Ah, yes,Chester drawls, his voice winding back through Obie’s head.The all-important sixth love language: vengeance.
Is there any other love language that matters?Obie glances around, confirms that no one is in sight, and snaps open a rift, transporting them back to Chester’s room at the Sanctum. “All right, Locke,” he says, waving away Chester’s invisibility and soundproofing spells. “So what’s the plan for this week?”
Chester sprawls across his bed, grinning up at Obie. He’s been different ever since that night he spent tossing and turning in Obie’s arms, like an enormous weight was suddenly lifted from his shoulders, like he finally had a reason to get up every morning?—
Like he found a real purpose for the first time in his life. It’s a good look on him. “Well, I can still mine the prison for a lot more information,” he says, pulling his notebook out of the gap in spacetime wherehe stashes it. “Some of it will be more complicated to steal or copy without arousing suspicion, but I think we can manage.”
“I can always take pictures on my phone if I need to,” Obie says. “No reason to take unnecessary risks.”
Chester’s smile softens. “Right. Beyond that…” He flips through the book, and Obie sees dozens of pages of notes in Chester’s surprisingly neat handwriting, each of them categorized with headings and subheadings. Everything in its proper place, as always. “I want to start digging into the reassigned strike teams—strike teams like Zeta. It’ll take some finesse to access those records, but I think we can pull it off. And I want to take a closer look at documentation from six and twelve years ago, too.”
“From around the times of Kappa’s final exam and the Jackson–Locke murders,” Obie finishes, nodding slowly. “That’s when Sawyer first found evidence of the conspiracy, after all. Maybe we could uncover even more with the benefit of hindsight.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Chester leans forward, focused and mission-driven and eager, and Obie smiles back, shamelessly enjoying the gleam in Chester’s eyes. “And we need to talk about those power signatures, too—the ones that Sawyer mentioned a few weeks ago. I know we haven’t had a chance to tap into the Deep again, but do you have any theories about what they might be? If they’re coming mostly from Redwater and Kingsborough, then…”
Chester continues to lay out his plans, gesturing with his hands as he talks. His gaze keeps flashing back to Obie, checking that Obie is still in agreement before he moves on to his next idea, and his next, and?—
Honestly, Obie thinks that part of Chester defected from the Sanctum a long time ago. Even if Chester’s fierce loyalty never let him dwell on treason, it’s clear that he at least considered which of theSanctum’s weak spots could be exploited—and he’s using all of those instincts to his advantage now.
With the two of them working together, there’s no way they can lose. Obie knows that they’re probably rushing a bit, that they should be moving a little more slowly to avoid suspicion, but he’s not worried. If Chester gets caught, Obie will protect him and get them both out. Chester will be heartbroken to leave Bryant behind, but Obie will make it a point to come back for her later.
Either they take the Sanctum down side by side, or Obie finally gets to bring Chester back to his house and spend time with him on their own terms.
Whatever happens, it’s going to be a win-win.
22
Chester’s shoulder feels weird.
He rolls it out for the fifth time in approximately as many minutes, fighting back a grimace. He’s spent the last two hours of his shift cleaning, sharpening, and polishing all the instruments in the stockroom, a task that he usually enjoys—namely because it lets him avoid the rest of his coworkers.
Nowadays, though, avoiding his coworkers is a lot more fun when he has Obie by his side. Chester shoves a drawer of scalpels back into place more aggressively than warranted, scowling. Ever since he and Obie joined forces against the Sanctum a little over a week ago, the bond has started giving them more slack, allowing them to be farther apart for extended periods—in fact, the last time they tested it, they could be on opposite ends of the building for over an hour.
Chester isn’t sure how to feel about the development. Six weeks ago, he just might’ve thrown a party to celebrate having some time away from Obie, but now?—
Now, his shoulder feels weird. Cold. Strangely light. These days,Obie usually follows close behind Chester with his fingers wrapped around Chester’s shoulder, chatting with him through their telepathic connection while Chester does his day job and occasionally steals documents for the Conspiracy Fam.
Without Obie’s warm palm settled on Chester’s arm, he feels more alone than he really wants to admit.
He can’t deny that it’s practical, though. Now that they’re not attached at the hip, Obie can prowl around the upper floors while Chester focuses on the prison, letting them steal twice as much intel. Plus, there are certain areas of the Sanctum that Chester just can’t access as a neophyte hunter, whether they’re restricted to purebreds or off-limits entirely.
