But there’s nothing stopping an invisible Obie from rifting into those rooms. If he’s sticking to their plan for today, then he’s currently sneaking around the five Council members’ offices, leafing through file cabinets and rifling through desks. Chester feels a vindictive sort of pleasure from knowing that Obie is snooping through Councilwoman Nasir’s personal belongings.
Neither of them knows for sure why the binding spell is giving them a longer leash now. Obie suspects that it might be losing some of its power—all magic has an expiration date, after all—but since Chester made an unknown error in the pre-casting process, there’s no way to check. They could hypothetically use the telepathic link’s built-in lie detector to test their theories, but secretly, Chester is relieved that they haven’t.
Because he has the sinking feeling that this sudden change is less about the binding spell itself and more about the individuals involved in it. Specifically, about Chester, and Chester’s feelings towards Obie, and how those feelings have shifted from active antagonism all the way to something mortifyingly reminiscent of a crush.
It’s a shift that Chester hasn’t fully come to terms with yet, andobviously, there’s no way he’ll ever admit it to Obie himself. But it’s gotten to the point where Chesterwantsto have Obie around,wantsto talk to him at all hours,wantsto feel the comforting weight of his hand on Chester’s shoulder.
Chester kind of wants Obie to touch him in other ways, too, but he’s not even entertaining those thoughts right now—partly for his own sanity, but mainly because it’s clear that Obie doesn’t feel the same way. Hell, Obie seemedexcitedby the idea of the binding spell losing its power, whereas even considering it makes Chester’s chest hurt.
The bond is what keeps him close to Obie. In Chester’s mind, that makes it worth every inconvenience.
But, binding spell or not, they’re going to stick together until Chester steals every scrap of intel he can and leaves the Sanctum behind for good. He and Obie have already made contingency plans for the possibility of Chester getting caught, which—given how rapidly he’s bleeding the prison and the library dry—he’s starting to think is increasingly likely.
Obie is confident that he can get Chester out of the Sanctum in one piece, though. And his goal is for them to steal at least a file cabinet’s worth of classified material from Councilwoman Nasir’s office on the way out. It’s exactly the sort of petty victory that makes Chester want to kiss his demon god on the mouth.
Right on cue, a jab of pain twists through his stomach. Nothing too harsh, but just enough to make itself known.
Despite himself, Chester smiles. The binding spell might be giving him and Obie more slack, but it still doesn’t like when they’re apart for too long. From past experimentation, Chester knows that Obie is starting to experience the same mild symptoms, letting him know that the binding spell is losing its patience.
Good. That means Chester will get to see Obie again soon. Humming to himself, Chester slides the last drawer onto its shelf, surveys the room to make sure nothing is out of place, heads towards the door?—
It opens of its own accord. “Where the hell have you been, Locke?” Nostrand demands, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Chester’s stomach drops. Right. The biggest downside to cleaning the stockroom: no windows, no cameras, and only one escape route. He swallows hard. “Um, here. I, uh, told Safadi that I’d be organizing the stockroom for a few hours.”
“Useless,” Nostrand mutters, although Chester isn’t sure if he’s referring to Safadi or Chester himself. “Well, the Council just assigned another job—Rooms 21 and 22 need to be cleaned to accommodate some late transfers. Everyone else is busy, so that’s on you.”
Two rooms to clean with less than ten minutes left in Chester’s shift. Somehow, he’s not surprised. “I’ll start them right now,” he says, taking a step forward and mentally willing Nostrand to move aside so Chester can get to the door.
Nostrand, though, doesn’t budge. His eyes narrow. “What are you up to, Locke?”
All the blood rushes from Chester’s head at once. “What?”
“You’ve been acting weird for days now. Volunteering for every time-consuming job, disappearing for hours on end, barely interacting with anyone. Staying out of sight as much as possible.” He leans forward. “I’ve known you for over a decade. I can tell when you’re up to something.”
“I—” Chester’s pulse roars through his veins, hard and frantic. Nostrand can’t possibly know that Chester has all but defected, can he? “I’ve just been trying to keep my head down and do my job,okay? I want the Council to put me back on interrogation duty, and?—”
“Bullshit. You hate interrogation duty.”
Even though the words are true, they still cut through Chester. “I don’thate?—”
Nostrand scoffs. “Yes, you do. You’ve hated interrogating since the very start. Why do you think it took me so long to hand you a knife and tell you to get to work? You couldn’t handle it. Still can’t, by the looks of it.”
Chester’s temper spikes. Given everything that Sawyer said about how he should never have been an interrogator and everything the Council has done to keep him isolated, he knows that it doesn’t matter, that itshouldn’tmatter?—
But damn it, it matters anyway. “You didn’t teach me actual interrogation until the Council ordered you to because you didn’t think I was a real hunter,” he bites out. “You thought I would just be good for grunt work and nothing else.”
Nostrand’s lip curls. “Well, it looks like I was right, doesn’t it?”
Chester’s blood boils. Unbidden, his eyes dart to the drawer to his left, just within arm’s reach.
The drawer with all the freshly sharpened knives.
It would be so easy. It would be soeasyto grab a blade and attack Nostrand before he even knew what hit him. No one would come looking for him, not immediately. Obie will be back at Chester’s side within a few minutes, so they could be long gone by the time anyone thought to question Nostrand’s absence. It would beso easy?—
A warm hand settles onto Chester’s shoulder. He almost starts with surprise.When we take the Sanctum down,Obie’s voice whispers in his mind,he’s going to be the first one I burn alive.
All at once, Chester feels like he can breathe again. He carefully unclenches his fists, meeting Nostrand’s gaze. “Rooms 21 and 22, yousaid?” he asks, and he’s taken aback by how much steadier his voice sounds.
