Page 135 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

“Demon trap,” Maison says, staring down at the bare baseboards, and Chloe nods. “And something else.”

Delina shivers out in the wind. Snow still technically falls, a few snowflakes here and there, but the wind cuts through her meager jacket.

After the scan earlier, everything feels dire.

“This isn’t Frisse’s work,” Chloe says, kneeling down in front of the open door, peering down at the boards. “Not entirely.”

“Demon trap is,” Maison grumbles, then sticks his head in just enough to shine a flashlight up to the roof.

A dazzling array of symbols sketch across the ceiling, spray painted on, the color vivid gold.

“That is,” Maison continues, and Delina blinks up at it, at the dazzling, looping lettering.

From the tutoring of Gurlien, it’s intense.

Chloe looks back at them, at the rising sun, and sighs. “Gurlien, where is the next safe place?”

“There’s a hotel about ten miles back,” Delina supplies, but the other three already shake their heads.

“Not for at least three more hours of driving, and I’d like to be across the border by then,” Gurlien replies, and despite the fact that he napped the majority of the drive, he still sounds exhausted. “If it’s Alette’s work, she usually allowed for more back doors that a spell weaver could track.”

Maison’s still staring hard out at the shack, before he taps Delina’s shoulder twice, and the entire thing blooms gold.

“Oh geez,” Delina mumbles, rubbing her eyes. Gold is written into the walls, twisted into the wood slats, woven into the very being of the shack itself.

And alongside it, a warping red/black power glimmers, shining like fresh tar.

“Is that demon junk?” Delina asks, and both Chloe and Maison turn to stare at her in the biting wind. “There.” She points, as if that could help anything.

Immediately, red flashes over Maison’s eyes as he aims the flashlight towards it.

“Not exactly,” he replies, voice pondering. “But it’s not…not.”

“Helpful,” Gurlien snips, and the cat mrrs in agreement.

“Did my mom have any demon friends?” Delina asks him. “Cause to me this looks like working together.”

“Just Terese before she lost control,” Gurlien answers, then his eyes widen.

Chloe cusses under her breath, then, splaying her hand on one of the twists of gold, slowly starts to unravel it.

“Take down the demon trap first,” Maison orders, and Chloe rolls her eyes, as if that’s what she’s already doing. “I can neutralize the rest.”

It’s almost sad staring out at the twisted magic, but the memory of the scan and of the fury of Maison’s power sends another shiver up Delina’s back.

“If this is where Terese has been hiding,” Gurlien starts, his voice muted, “we don’t know what happened to the…the body. The body was still alive.”

Delina stares down at the dust piled in the corner, at the wind whistling through the cracks. “Hell of a place to hide.”

The air above the gold threads shimmers, blurring, and Maison steps forward, confident, and sparks swirl around his shoes, burying themselves into the folds of his pant legs.

Delina’s lips part, at the living magic, as Maison crouches down, rubbing the red and black strip of magic through his fingertips.

“Whoever did this is still alive,” he whispers, like the very walls could hear them. “Not the demon Terese.”

Gurlien shifts. “So the human side?”

Delina stills, staring at the red-black strip in Maison’s hand. It’s not the malicious glow from the other demon, nor is it the familiar power she now can halfway recognize from Maison.

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