Chapter 3
3
R oma raps cautiously on the door to Councilwoman Nasir’s office and waits for the order to enter before slipping inside. “You wanted to see me, Councilwoman?” she asks uneasily, trying not to fidget as she closes the door behind her.
Honestly, she’s already seen far too much of the Council for one day. After calling the cleanup crew to dispose of the summoner’s body, she and her friends had to trek back to the Sanctum?—unfortunately sans poutine?—to report on everything that happened: how the summoner created a multi-demon rift in the middle of Lakeside; how Roma, Bryant, and Chester ended up tripping over a handful of fugitive demons during the fight??—
How JJ was among those fugitive demons. How his skin burned like one when Chester touched him. The thought alone makes bile rise in Roma’s throat, and she swallows it down hard. The Sanctum may have stripped away JJ’s powers when he first defected, but that doesn’t mean he should be vulnerable to their corrosion spell now.
That enchantment is only supposed to affect demons. The fact that it hurt JJ makes Roma feel sick to her stomach.
“Gutierrez,” Councilwoman Nasir says, her usual flat smile not reaching her eyes. “Thank you for coming. I just want to clarify a few points of your story with you.”
Roma fights back a flinch. As far as she’s aware, Bryant and Chester weren’t called in for a follow-up report, and she has the sinking feeling that the blame for everything that went wrong today is about to get placed squarely on her.
Obviously, the Sanctum isn’t going to punish a purebred like Bryant for a debacle like that?—not when the Nehemiah family has a permanent seat on the Council. And even though neophyte hunter Chester has an even lower standing than mixed-breed Roma, he’s not trained for fieldwork like she is.
And, above all, Roma is Strike Team Kappa’s de facto leader. The final call rested on her shoulders. She takes a deep breath and braces herself for the fallout. “I apologize again for our inability to bring the demons back for testing, ma’am. As we were in a civilian area??—?”
“?—?the most prudent tactical decision was to retreat and let the Chain handle it,” Councilwoman Nasir cuts in, and Roma blinks with surprise. “Although it’s not the outcome we would’ve preferred, it was the best decision you could’ve made under the circumstances. While our testing program is imperative to rid Earth of demonic influence, our first priority always has been and always will be the safety of humankind. The Council doesn’t disagree with you.”
“Oh.” Roma tries to remember what else she could’ve done wrong. “I’m?—I’m glad.”
“Hm.” Nasir leans forward, threading her fingers together and resting her chin on top of them. “There were two other points in your story that stood out. Remind me again how you closed the rift?”
Roma winces. That rift-closing fiasco was probably the closest she’s ever come to working with a demon, and she already knows that she doesn’t want to repeat the experience. “Since the spellcaster was particularly powerful, our standard blocking spell didn’t work, and neither did Esmeralda Laguerre’s demonic disconnecting spell. As demons were still being summoned and posing a threat to civilians, I?—I proposed to Laguerre that we time our incantations to amplify our magic.”
The councilwoman nods slowly. “And it worked.”
“It did. Some spellcasting research shows that human magic and demon magic can have synergistic effects when used together, so it makes sense.” Hastily, Roma adds, “Luckily, I didn’t have much cause to interact with Laguerre again after that. Which was completely fine by me.”
“It was an… unconventional idea,” Nasir says cryptically. Roma can’t tell if that means she’s in trouble or not, and she bites back the urge to ask. “Regardless, it’s good to know that such a combination is possible. If we ever find a way to safely harness demon magic, a dual-action spell like that could be useful for hunters worldwide.”
Roma almost starts with surprise. Useful for hunters worldwide? Was that a compliment? Is Councilwoman Nasir actually pleased with Roma’s performance? “I?—I’m glad,” Roma repeats weakly, struggling to figure out where this conversation is going. “The safety of our hunters is paramount, of course.”
“Of course,” Nasir agrees, and her eyes sharpen. “Now, about Jackson.”
Roma’s stomach lurches. Up until recently, the Council in general and Councilwoman Nasir in particular always referred to JJ by his first name, Julian. After all, there was no reason to call him “Jackson” when that surname wasn’t connected to a hunting bloodline.
Now, though, the councilwoman just sounds dismissive. Distant. Like Nasir herself wasn’t the one who ordered Sawyer Solomon to train JJ and Chester over a decade ago and welcomed them as part of the hunting community a few years later. “About Jackson,” Roma says quietly.
“From what I understand,” she says, “Chester touched Jackson’s forearm?—bare skin on bare skin?—and Jackson was immediately struck with corrosion burns comparable to those inflicted on demons. Correct?”
Roma’s throat feels dry. “Correct.”
“I see.” Councilwoman Nasir considers her closely. “You can understand how this is of enormous interest to the Council?—and the Sanctum at large.”
“I… suppose,” Roma says carefully, trying not to let her confusion show. The fact that a human was affected by the corrosion spell is a big deal, of course, but she didn’t expect the Council to take a particular interest. Honestly, she thought they’d just written off JJ entirely by now.
“The Council was convened to discuss this development,” Nasir continues, fixing Roma with a steely gaze, “and we’re convinced that you would be the best operative to investigate further.”
Surprise jolts through Roma. “Me? Me and?—and Bryant, you mean? Our strike team?”
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 were still 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 know you?— 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. “Kenneth Long? 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 that interest Roma? In the Sanctum, where bloodlines mean everything, Roma’s position as a mixed-breed hunter has always been a mark against her, disadvantaging her just enough 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 and easier future??—
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 I still don’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 understand that part, 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 the gratuitous 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 ever accepting his 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 their next campaign, because humans just can’t get along for more than a few months before trying to kill each other again.
But Cass was usually the driving force behind those decisions, getting restless whenever there wasn’t a dictator to topple or a terrorist cell to demolish. Now that he’s retreated into domestic bliss with his ex-hunter boyfriend and their adopted daughter, though, Ez is pretty sure warfare is the furthest thing from his mind. Part of her is happy for him?—really, she is?—but a much larger part of her is still struggling to adjust to their friend group’s new dynamic.
And to the absolute lack of action. Hell, the most excitement she’s had recently was that tense little standoff with Roma Gutierrez and her ilk a few days ago. But that’s an experience she’s definitely not looking to repeat.
“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Obie demands, exasperated.
“Nope,” Ez says, and she pops another mozzarella stick into her mouth. “Sorry, Smith. You’re not going to convert me to your religion. Have you tried JJ or Desi?”
“I’m waiting for JJ to not be a wanted fugitive first,” Obie says, and he eases himself down on the seat next to Ez. “Although I am planning to commandeer Desi for Bring Your Child Bowling Day in June.”
“That’s a thing?”
“It’s a thing,” Obie confirms. “In Redwater, at least. Not sure about the rest of the world. But I still want to get some more demons in the alley?—it’s a very human-dominated sport in our town.”
“You convinced Maggie Khan to join your team.”
“And I’m exceedingly grateful for her,” Obie says. “But it’s partly for Maggie that I want to bring in a few more demons. I mean, she likes the humans here well enough, and while Trevor and Sasha from our team adore her??—?”
“As they should.”
“?—?I feel like she’d be more comfortable with people who’ve been around for a century or so,” he finishes. “The twins are only in their twenties, and Trevor in particular speaks mostly in memes. I don’t think Maggie understands half of what he says.”
A tendril of an idea snakes through Ez’s head. “How about Micah or Gregorio?” she asks carefully, and Obie goes still. “Micah is usually down for any social event that involves greasy food, and you and Gregorio swap heirloom tomato seedlings every year, right?”
“We do.” Obie doesn’t look happy. “Are you suggesting I invite them bowling for the express purpose of figuring out what their deal is?”
“You said it, not me.” Ez raises her eyebrows. “So?”
Obie purses his lips, considering. Personally, Ez doesn’t like the idea of misleading them any more than he clearly does, but??—
But at this point, she doesn’t see many other options.
Micah Devereux and Gregorio Ricci are a demon couple who live at the north end of Redwater, right near the highway leading out of the valley. They both work for the Chain?—Micah in Recordkeeping, Gregorio in Personnel?—and, until quite recently, Ez considered them both to be friends. Not besties, of course, but she would sometimes go out clubbing with Micah or complain about bad movies with Gregorio. She even gifted them a blender at their wedding a few years ago.
But all that was before the profoundly disconcerting revelation back in February that they’re involved in something shady?—or, at the very least, involved in something connected to the Sanctum. Micah recognized JJ on sight and called him by his nickname, he and Gregorio both have a vested interest in Roma Gutierrez??—
So far, they’ve been loyal to Cass?—and, by extension, the rest of their little group?—but Ez doesn’t want to speculate how far that loyalty really stretches.
“Look, I really care about the humans in this alley,” Obie says eventually. “I mean, I’ve known Nack Bar George behind the counter since he was a teenager, and he’s in his seventies now. If Micah and Gregorio aren’t aboveboard, I don’t want to put anyone here in danger.”
Ez squints at him. “‘Nack Bar’ George? Don’t you mean ‘Snack Bar’ George?”
Obie points at the neon sign above the snack bar in question. “Do you see an ‘s’ anywhere in there?”
Ez follows his finger, intrigued. “Huh,” she says, and she turns back to frown at Obie. “I feel like there’s a story behind that.”
“There is,” Obie says, “but only dues-paying bowlers can unlock the full Nack Bar lore.”
“Rude!”
Obie cracks a smile. With a pang, Ez realizes that it’s been a while since she’s seen him smile like that. He might seem perfectly unruffled by all the tension and drama, but she has the sneaking suspicion that it affects him more than he wants to admit. “I’ll make you a deal. Finish this game with me, and we’ll see if George is willing to drop some hints about the sordid history of the Nack Bar.”
Ez heaves a theatric sigh. “If you insist,” she says, and she lets Obie haul her to her feet and drag her back for their next frame.
Somehow, she foresees a lot of bowling in her future if life doesn’t get interesting again soon.