Chester’s eyes snap up to him, startled. “Obie?—”
“You think I’m judging you for this?” There’s a roaring in Obie’s ears. “For doing what you had to do to survive? You think I don’t understand just how badly the Council played you, how badly theytraumatizedyou?”
Chester’s expression wavers. “Obie?—”
This time, though, Obie is the one who isn’t done. He snaps his fingers, rewinding the memoryscape back sixty seconds.
Back to the exact moment when Memory Chester stood up straight, looked his former mentor in the eye, and said, “No.”
“This!” Obie says, gesturing sharply at the scene.“Thisis who you are, Chester! You did what you had to do to survive, butthisis who you really are.” Impulsively, he wraps his fingers around Chester’s palm, squeezing tightly.This is who you are, Chester. This is who you are, and youareworth saving. You always have been.
Obie doesn’t expect the words to go unheard, but a wave of relief still washes through him when Chester’s breath hitches. For a long moment, Chester stares at him, like he can’t wrap his head around thefact that Obie still respects him—stillcaresabout him—after seeing those memories.
And then his face crumples. Choking back a strangled noise, he pulls his hand out of Obie’s and buries his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking with grief.
Obie’s heart damn near shatters. “Oh, Chester,” he whispers, letting the memoryscape fade as he pulls Chester into his arms.Puppy, I know this hurts like hell right now, but you’rewinning,okay? This is how you win against the Sanctum. This is you fighting back. You’re not weak. You’re stronger than all of them.
JJ said he wasproudof me.The words whip through Obie’s head, taut and shaking.He said he was proud of me after I tortured him. He said that—that I did a good job.
Obie tightens his arms.Of course he was proud of you. You passed your final exam, and he helped you get there. And just look at you now. The Sanctum wanted a perfect attack dog, but they ended up creating their own worst nightmare. I’m—I’m proud of you, too. And I really think you should be proud of yourself.
Chester doesn’t answer. Gradually, his wracking sobs fade into sniffling and his tears give way to trembling silence, but he doesn’t let go of Obie, so Obie doesn’t let go of him.
They end up sitting there for a long time.
30
So I propose that we start at the bar off Mayfair,” Obie says, kicking his feet up on Chester’s desk. “The one where Keith from Poutine Queens does drag shows. We should support our local businesses, don’t you think?”
Chester wrinkles his nose. “That’s a valid place to start our post–Sanctum collapse bar crawl, but don’t they only have those shows every other Friday night? What if we happen to bring down the Sanctum on, like, a Tuesday morning?”
“Puppy, I’ve been waiting to burn the Sanctum to the ground for fifteen thousand years,” Obie says. “I’m fully prepared to delay for a week if that’s the only way we can start our festivities with Fryda Potahto.”
Chester gapes at him.“Pleasetell me Keith’s stage name isn’t actually ‘Fried Potato.’”
“Of course not,” Obie says. “It’sFry-da Po-tah-to.Weren’t you listening?”
Chester snorts out a laugh, lounging more comfortably across hisbed. Right now, he and Obieshouldbe scouring through the latest stack of files that Chester got from Bryant,shouldbe watching for anything suspicious from their active strike teams,shouldbe sniffing around for any hint of Operation Thirteen?—
But they’ve been working nonstop for weeks. And Chester thinks that planning out their victory tour is also a noble pursuit. “All right,” he says, sitting up on his mattress and resting his hands on his knees. “Counterproposal.”
Obie smiles. “I’m listening.”
“You rift us to Las Vegas.”
“I like this plan already,” Obie says. “Go on.”
“You show me around the Strip,” Chester says. “You buy us ridiculously expensive cocktails and get us tickets to every burlesque show. And you loan me a thousand dollars to lose in the slot machines, of course.”
“Of course,” Obie agrees.
“And,”Chester finishes imperiously, holding up a finger like he’s making a proclamation, “we have to bring Nack Bar George, too. So you can get married again.”
Obie groans, burying his face in his hands. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Never,” Chester confirms, smirking at Obie’s long-suffering expression. “But Isupposewe can defer the Vegas trip until after the Redwater bar crawl. Like you said, you’ve been waiting fifteen thousand years. I’ve only been waiting, like, a month.”
Even as Chester says the words, they strike a strange chord in his mind. Obviously, he knows that the first hunters briefly captured and bound Nostringvadha fifteen millennia ago, but it’s been a while since he thought about that in context.
