Page 123 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

Then, a few days later:

DAD (3:20 PM): Had some of your mother’s old friends stop by. Told me you were missing. I acted surprised and worried. They’re gonna catch on.

DAD (3:22 PM): Stay safe, love you.

A few days later:

DAD (8:00 PM): They just told me Maison died. Are you okay?

“Oh wow,” Delina murmurs, scrolling through the filtered texts, and Maison side eyes her from the driver's seat. “They told my dad you died.”

Maison frowns, then sighs. “Makes sense, it’s what I’d do in their situation.” Another side eye. “Are you gonna tell him I’m alive? We have to believe they’re monitoring his phone now.”

Delina stares down at her phone. “My dad really did like you.”

“It was nice having a normal dad around,” Maison says, a bit sad. “I think I talked to him about more mundane things than anyone else.”

It’s true, she knew that Maison would occasionally go and get advice from her dad, but knowing what she knows now just makes it a bit worse.

That his mother was locked up, his other parent generally unavailable, and he was completely cut off from any aspect of community he’s ever known.

DAD (7:22 PM): Hope you are well. They’ve increased their spies around my house. Brought a woman with a half-shaved head around, she was not all there, her eyes were weird. Stay safe.

Then, one day ago.

DAD (3:01 PM): they told me you’re killing people now. I don’t know what’s going on, but please be safe.

“Great, they told him I killed Korhonen,” Delina says, the familiar bitterness rising up at the mere mention.

“He’ll still love you,” Maison murmurs.

DELINA (11:45 PM): Hey Dad, I’m doing well, the cabin is beautiful and the woods are glorious. Mom really left some surprises for me, I’ll visit soon.

Of course, the text sends, and doesn’t immediately click over to read, which means he’s fast asleep.

Delina cradles it for a few minutes longer, then rolls down the window and chucks it into a particularly gnarly blackberry bramble and watches as that, too, disappears through the mist.

In the silence, Maison reaches over and grabs her hand.

They pullup to another property of her mother’s around 4:30 AM, an apartment in a row of other, unremarkable apartments in an otherwise unremarkable mid-sized city.

Chloe gets through the lock on the door with barely any thought, and Maison disables the single magic snare left behind with very little trouble.

The apartment is way more utilitarian than the cabin, no personality to be found, like Delina’s mother never bothered to break down the display furniture that came when she purchased it. No books in the bookshelves, no food in the cabinets, no dead bugs underneath the sinks.

There’s two bedrooms, a dusty looking couch, and one of those massive bean bags that were in fashion a few years ago. Without even saying anything, Chloe flops over onto the bean bag, and Chance the cat curls up with her, both of them falling asleep so fast Delina is briefly, briefly jealous.

“Yeah, the cat meowed the entire drive,” Gurlien mutters, before turning on his heel to the smaller of the bedrooms.

Delina’s eyes have gone crunchy somewhere after hour two of driving, and Maison’s face is pale with exhaustion.

Inside the room, magic blazes up, and Delina’s breath catches in her throat, before she relaxes.

Nothing happens, the magic licking against her feet, and Maison gives her a sharp glance, before staring down at her feet.

“That’s not a danger spell, it’s a notification,” he says, narrowing his eyes before rubbing them. “It’d be to let your mom know someone was here.”

“Huh,” Delina says, peering down at it. “So who does the notification go to now that she’s…dead?”

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