Page 6 of Fool Me Twice

The councilwoman shakes her head. “No. Just you. You were able to trick the demons‍—and Jackson‍—once before, after all. We’re confident in your ability to do it again.”

“I‍—‍” Roma’s heart is pounding against her ribcage. “I’m not sure how I could trick them a second time, ma’am. They’d suspect me immediately.”

For a brief second, she remembers JJ’s devastated expression last month when he realized that she was trying to bring him back to the Sanctum. Determinedly, she forces the thought away.

“I’m sure you’re up for the challenge,” Nasir says. “Although they may have discovered your deception the first time, you werestill able to gather valuable intelligence before that point. Out of all the hunters in our ranks, you know these demons best. And, more importantly, these demons also knowyou‍—or they think they do, at least. That’s a factor you can use to your advantage.” She arches an eyebrow. “Of course, since this is a high-priority assignment, we’ll reward your efforts if you succeed.”

The words throw Roma for a loop. Hunters sometimes get public recognition for their accomplishments, but they’re not usually given tangible rewards. “That‍—that won’t be necessary, Councilwoman. I‍?—‍”

Nasir cuts her off. “Ever since your older sister left,” she says, and Roma’s shoulders automatically tense at the mention of Naomi, “there’s been a certain amount of… stigma attached to the Gutierrez family name. Is that a fair evaluation?”

Bitterness curls behind Roma’s sternum. Naomi might not have left a mailing address when she and Sawyer Solomon disappeared into the night, but she definitely left more than her fair share of mess for Roma‍—and their parents‍—to deal with.

Hell. Just before Naomi defected, their father was a top contender for the rotating position on the Council‍—the only spot available for mixed-breed hunters. Six years and three election cycles later, his name hasn’t even come up again. And the fact that Roma looks just like Naomi did at her age‍—same light brown skin, same long black hair, same golden-brown eyes‍—never helped matters, either.

So is it fair to say that the Gutierrez family has been mired in disgrace ever since Naomi bailed? Frankly, Roma thinks it’s an understatement. “Yes,” she says shortly.

“That’s been a point of discussion in the Council for quite some time,” Nasir says. “Your family was always regarded well before that unfortunate incident, and it’s a shame that your sister managed to destroy your reputation so thoroughly.”

“It is,” Roma says stiffly.

“Given these circumstances,” Nasir continues, “and how important this mission is to the Sanctum, the Council is proposing a solution: if you can bring Jackson back alive‍—by force or otherwise‍—we’ll be willing to arrange a marriage between you and Kenneth Long.”

Roma’s jaw almost drops. “KennethLong?The head interrogator?”The purebred?

“Indeed,” Nasir says calmly, apparently unaware of just how effortlessly she’s offered to change the trajectory of Roma’s entire life. “Long comes from an esteemed line of Redwater hunters, but our plan until recently was to match him with a purebred from another Sanctum. Pairing the two of you would serve the dual purposes of keeping him in Redwater and allowing you to erase the stain on the Gutierrez name.” She raises her eyebrows. “Would that arrangement interest you?”

Would thatinterestRoma? In the Sanctum, where bloodlines mean everything, Roma’s position as a mixed-breed hunter has always been a mark against her, disadvantaging herjustenough that she has to work twice as hard to get half as far‍—especially compared with a purebred like Bryant.

Normally, purebreds are matched together to keep the bloodlines intact. It’s not unheard of for one of them to be paired with a mixed hunter, but it’s exceedingly rare. Allying herself through marriage with Kenneth Long would go a long way towards increasing Roma’s status, giving her a brighter andeasierfuture‍?—

And getting rid of the scandal that Naomi left behind.

“Yes, that arrangement would interest me,” Roma says firmly, and she stands up straight. “Leave it to me, ma’am. I’ll bring Jackson home for you.”

Ez squints up at the screen cheerfully displaying her and Obie’s scores. “This stupid game is older than I am,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest, “and Istilldon’t understand how it works.”

Obie heaves a sigh. He’s been doing that a lot with Ez lately, she thinks. “It’s very simple, really. You just use the ball to knock down the pins.”

“I understandthatpart, Obadiah.” Ez decisively picks up her next bowling ball, saunters up to the foul line, and sends it rolling towards the pins. It rapidly loses momentum and putters sadly into the gutter less than a foot away from its intended target. “But how does the actual scoring work?”

“Well, for that pitiful throw,” Obie says, “you get a score of zero.”

“Rude and uncalled for, but‍?—‍”

Obie steamrolls on. “There are ten frames per game,” he says, gesturing meaningfully at the staticky scoreboard, “and you get two throws per frame. Think of them as mini-games within the larger one. For every pin you knock down, you get one point. If you knock down all ten pins on your first try, that’s called a strike; if you knock down ten pins within the two throws of your frame, that’s called a spare. Both of those get you bonus points. If you hit a strike every time, you end up with a final score of three hundred‍—a perfect game.” He raises his eyebrows. “Questions?”

“Yeah, actually,” Ez says, collapsing onto a chair in the sitting area and grabbing her paper carton of mozzarella sticks. “How do you not get bored? Once you master the throwing bit and thegratuitous math, it’s basically just the same thing over and over, right?”

Obie looks like he regrets ever inviting her to the alley with him today. Since Ez regrets everacceptinghis invitation, she figures that makes them even‍—although she’ll readily admit that the abundance of fried food is excellent. “No. It’s not. The alley puts different oil patterns on each of the lanes, and those affect how the ball reacts after you’ve thrown it, so…”

Ez dutifully half-listens as he launches into a detailed explanation, eating her mozzarella sticks and nodding at what she hopes are appropriate intervals. After however many millennia of perfect indifference to bowling, Obie quickly became obsessed with it after Redwater Bowl opened sixty-odd years ago, diving deep into the nuances of theory and practice. Now, he competes with a small but mighty team in a bowling league every Wednesday night, and he’s spent the past several decades trying to convince Ez and Cass to join him.

Unsuccessfully, of course. But Ez still humors him every few months, just like he humors her spellcasting rants. Honestly, the only reason she agreed to come out with him today is because, well‍?—

There’s really nothing better to do.

It’s a bizarre sensation. Throughout most of her history with Cass and Obie, they’ve always managed to keep themselves occupied, rifting into conflict zones and ending wars and such. When they weren’t actively on a campaign, they were usually in the throes of planning theirnextcampaign, because humans just can’t get along for more than a few months before trying to kill each other again.

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