“Smooth, Sasha,” Obie says.
“What? You’re not exactly subtle about it!”
“Tell meeverything,”Trevor demands, grabbing his twin sister’s arm and dragging her over to the approach for his frame. “When has he done this?Howhas he done this? Was it during…?”
“Do you seriously use your powers during tournaments?” Maggie asks, flagrantly stealing one of Trevor’s boneless wings.
“Imightpush the envelope a little bit when our team’s honor is on the line,” Obie says loftily, easing himself into a chair and grabbing a mozzarella stick. “So, Khan, how are you feeling about the sport? You’re almost at your one-year bowliversary.”
“Never use the word ‘bowliversary’ in my presence again.”
“Buzzkill.”
“And I’d call it more of a game than a sport.”
Obie whistles. “Oh, them’sfightingwords, Khan. Don’t let Nack Bar George hear you say that.”
Maggie looks amused. Obie is glad. He’s not quite as close with her as he is with Cass and Ez, but they’ve both been on Earth for over three millennia, and, well?—
Maggie’s first few centuries in this dimension were rough. Obie likes to make her smile when he can. And it only took him a few years of begging—and a fair amount of bribery with greasy alley food—before she agreed to try out bowling with him.
He was surprised that she kept coming back, but he’s certainly not complaining about having another demon on his team.
“Sport or not,” Maggie says now, “I’m enjoying it. It’s relaxing. Meditative, almost.”
“Just last week, you cursed out the pins for not falling the way you wanted them to.”
“Meditative,”she insists, and she shoots him a sideways glance. “How’s everything on your end?”
Obie bites back a grimace. Do none of his friends know how to relax and tactically ignore the crisis looming over their heads? “Less meditative,” he admits. “But I’m hanging in there. You?”
Maggie’s jaw tightens. Obie’s chest hurts. It’s only been two months since he and Ez told her that the Chain was sending neophyte demons to the Sanctum’s prison, and only around two weeks since he roped her into the larger conspiracy—and made her their designated informant in the Chain, now that Micah and Gregorio have gone into hiding.
She’s taking her role just as seriously as Obie expected. More seriously than he prefers, actually. But Maggie has a long history of escorting neophyte demons to the Chain to be registered and allegedly set up with better lives, so learning that she was effectively ushering them to their deaths hit her particularly hard. “Equally unmeditative. The moral distress is unpleasant, and trying to identify the Chain’s new scapegoat—like Ricci used to be—is even worse.” She shrugs one shoulder. “But it’s tolerable. The Chain is working everyone in Public Safety to death due to, you know. Reasons.”
“Reasons regarding certain fugitives, you mean?”
“Exactly. Demons and hunters both.” She leans towards him, lowering her voice. “But rumor has it that we might be dropping the Jackson case.”
Obie jerks to attention. “What? Why?”
“Not sure. But I have to imagine—” Her voice drops even further, quiet enough that only a demon like Obie could hear it. “I have to imagine that it means theSanctumis dropping the Jackson case, too. Maybe it’s because they already lost Roma trying to get him back? Or because they see Sawyer and Naomi as the greater threat now?”
“Maybe,” Obie says, unconvinced. “But the Sanctum was willing to marry Roma off to a purebred if she could get JJ back. Considering their obsession with keeping their bloodlines ‘pure,’ that’s a huge deal.”
“A born hunter like Roma defecting is also a huge deal, though. Maybe the risks outweighed the benefits.” She solemnly returns Trevor’s high five as he and Sasha retreat towards the sitting area, signaling the end of their back-to-back turns. “Looks like I’m up. See you in a minute, Smitty.”
Obie forces a smile as she jogs away to grab a ball for her next throw. On the surface, the Chain dropping JJ’s case is a good development—the fewer people hunting for him, the better—but it reeks of an ulterior motive that Obie can’t quite see yet.
He’s going to have to tell Cass and JJ to stay vigilant. Ez and Roma, too.
Like they weren’t having enough trouble staying under the radar already.
Maggie’s frame ends without much fanfare, and Obie’s turn is similarly lackluster. Sighing, he wanders back to their team’s table, where Sasha and Trevor are currently fighting over the last curly fry on their shared tray. Decisively, Obie reaches between them, steals the fry, and pops it into his mouth. “I’ll take that.”
They shoot him matching betrayed looks. They might not be identical, but at times like this, the similarities between them are striking.
“Traitor,” Trevor says, lightly hitting Obie’s arm before walking to the approach for his own frame.
