Page 55 of Take You Home

Hello?Obie’s voice in his head sounds impatient now.I know you heard me, Locke.

Chester swallows hard. Blindly chooses a breakfast burrito, puts it on his tray, and makes a beeline for his and Bryant’s usual table in the corner.Yeah, I heard you. And I‍—I know. I get that.

Hm.Obie’s hand vanishes from Chester’s shoulder, and for a split second, Chester almost misses it.

And, with a sinking heart, he realizes that part of himalsomisses the bliss that came from not knowing any of this. From always being able to assume the worst about the demons and the Chain and his defected friends.

He’s never going to be able to get that ignorance back.

At some point, he’s going to have to deal with that. For now, though, he just forces a smile, sits down across from Bryant, and tries to ignore the ever-present demon god hovering just out of reach.

Chester still isn’t back on active interrogation duty.

Obie would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved about it. Even though he doubts Chester would lift a weapon against one of Obie’s brethren, there’s still that nagging fear that Obie would need to intervene again, that he’d need to save one of his people from the hands of the hunters‍?—

That he’d have to see Chester in torturer mode. Obie bites back a grimace as he follows Chester down the hallway, heading towards a dirty interrogation room. After a month of being spellbound together,Obie has formed a certain mental image of Chester Locke: sometimes angry and combative, sometimes rash and impulsive‍?—

Mostly, though, he’s kind. He’s helpful. He cares deeply about his friends and is scrupulous about his job. He’s even started to banter with Obie sometimes, and Obie has been struck by just how quick and smart andfunnyChester is.

He doesn’t want those perceptions to be shattered by watching Chester cut someone open.

For now, though, they just have to deal with the aftermath. Obie suppresses a shudder when Chester shoulders open the door to reveal blood still dripping from the interrogation table. What did the interrogatordoto that poor demon? Did they do it for fun, or because the demon didn’t give them the information they wanted?

If the demon was new to Earth, did they even have any information to give?

Obie has long since learned that Chester tries not to think about those details. Instead, he just walks across the room, grabs some cleaning supplies from the closet, and starts filling the bucket under the faucet. “Soundproofing?” he whispers.

Despite himself, Obie smiles. He skulks around invisibly most of the time, reading books or scrolling through his cell phone, but whenever he and Chester are truly alone, they’ve started having conversations. Decisively, he snaps his fingers, widening their usual soundproofing spell so no one can hear Chester. “Done.”

Chester cuts a glance towards the one-way mirror, checking that the blinds are closed and the camera is off, before visibly relaxing. “It wasn’t a demon,” he says without preamble, carrying the bucket over to the worst of the blood spatter. “It was a dissident. If that makes you feel any better.”

Obie releases his invisibility spell. “Not really. Especially since I’mclose personal friends with two dissidents and acquaintances with another two.”

Chester’s face shuts down. “Oh,” he says shortly, dunking his sponge back into the bucket. “Okay.”

“But thanks for trying,” Obie adds, strolling over to grab a second sponge. Chester gives Obie a strange look when he starts cleaning the interrogation table, but he doesn’t tell him to stop.

Good. The leather restraints are imbued with corrosion spells, so Obie will leave those for Chester to clean‍—even with gloves, there’s still a risk of them touching his wrist or forearm‍—but beyond that, he’s perfectly capable of basic manual labor. In a way, it’s almost relaxing.

Like he and Chester can work together towards a common goal that’s more low-stakes‍—and more achievable‍—than breaking the binding spell.

Obie finishes the interrogation table at the same time that Chester wipes down the last stretch of tile floor. In unison, they move on to the small metal table where interrogators lay out their tools.

“You don’t need to help me, you know,” Chester says eventually, cleaning the underside of the instrumentation table while Obie handles the top. “I can do it.”

Obie waves a hand dismissively, glancing at the floor. Perfectly polished, just like every other room Chester has cleaned over the past month. Really, his attention to detail is impeccable. “Yeah, but it’s faster with two people. And you’re partly evaluated on your efficiency, right?”

Chester squints at him. “I thought you’d want to make melessefficient, then,” he says, carefully wiping down the table’s legs and wheels. “If the Council decides that I’m back up to their standards, then they’ll put me on interrogation duty again. And you didn’t seem to like that last time.”

Obie fights back a wince. “Fine,” he says airily. “So I won’t help in the next room.”

Chester rolls his eyes. “Business as usual, then,” he says, and he dumps the dirty water in the sink, rinses out the bucket and sponges, and sets them back in the closet. “Soundproofing and invisibility?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Obie sighs, adjusting the soundproofing spell again and making himself invisible. “Next room?”

“Next room,” Chester agrees, and he strides towards the door, reaches out to grab the handle‍?—

It swings open before he can. “Locke,” Adrian Nostrand says, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

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