Page 100 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

“Monthly trip,” Maison replies. “I’m fairly certain even my mom knew.”

He swallows at the mention of his mother, before blinking through it.

There’s still so much about him that Delina doesn’t know. And now, one drink still burning in her stomach, she wants to know more.

“So it’s a small community,” Delina starts, and they all three nod, “everyone know everyone else? Rumors go crazy?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Maison answers, this time sipping the glass of whatever whiskey he got for himself, gamely leaving the green drink in the middle of the table. “Everyone knew everyone else’s business. Everyone commented on each other’s business, knew the assignments, everything.”

“That’s why your mom was an outlier,” Gurlien says, as if eager to get it off of his gossip, pointing to Delina. “She kept herself and her protégés separate. We didn’t know Alette was a spell weaver—and a ridiculous one at that—until she was far into her teens.”

“And that Axel could change his appearance,” Chloe pipes up, and Delina raises an eyebrow. “He had such a grasp of his alchemy he could literally change his face, and we didn’t know until he was already an adult.”

“Do you think they’d talk to me?” Delina asks, and Maison’s hand traces a design on her back, threatening to derail her mind. “Or are they angry at my mom, too.”

“That’s why I’ve been calling them every few days,” Gurlien grouses. “They don’t like me.”

“Not you, but me,” Delina asks, forging on. “I call them, completely unknown number. Or show up wherever they are at their doorsteps. Get their help with Maison’s mom, hide with them.”

Gurlien and Chloe glance at each other, and one of those long wordless conversations ensues.

“While Axel is generally outgoing and friendly, I’m not sure how well your cousin would react to seeing you,” Chloe starts, and Delina flinches.

“What do you mean, cousin?” Delina blurts out, and both of them blanch. “I have a cousin?”

Neither of them say anything, so Delina turns and gapes at Maison.

“By marriage,” he replies, and there’s the hint of a flush across his cheeks, the flush he gets when he drinks too fast. “Your mother remarried a few times, one of them was to Alette’s uncle, I believe.”

At least he’s giving her an answer.

“And nobody thought to mention the fact that this person we’re trying to reach is my cousin?”

“Honestly, I thought they did already,” Maison says, and his face is open, open in the way it rarely ever is. “They were already throwing around her name, I thought…” he shrugs, still not moving his hand from her back. “I think you two would’ve been actual cousins for all of a year and a half?”

“Alette still called Frisse her aunt,” Gurlien says, which isn’t helping his case. “But I’ve mentioned you in the messages.”

“Which they might not even be listening to,” Delina deadpans, then takes a large drink of the martini for courage.

It, too, burns on the way down.

“Is every drink here just shitty?” Delina asks, and both Chloe and Gurlien nod. “Okay, how far away do they live?”

“They’re a three-hour trip,” Gurlien all but mumbles. “You have to cross the border.”

“I can make you a new passport,” Chloe says, not quite helpfully. “It might take a few days to a week to get it right, but it should be possible.”

“Fine, make the passport and I’ll drive myself—”

“—and me,” Maison interrupts.

“And Maison up to Canada and talk to them,” Delina says, staring down at the martini, even more of a knot in her throat. “She knew my mom.”

The other three exchange glances, before Maison grabs his whiskey and shoots it back.

“She was practically raised by your mom,” Maison says, after a cough. “So you’re prepared.”

“Great.” Delina takes another large gulp of the martini.

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