Page 148 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

“Like that would hurt me,” Maison says back, but he’s nodding. “Obviously. Yes. We get out of this and I’ll…I’ll be in your debt for a while.”

“Of course,” Gurlien says, almost neutral. “We’ll absolutely call you on that.”

Delina raises an eyebrow at the two of them. “That have bigger magical connotations?”

“Not really,” Maison reassures her, but he is tense, nervous. “Maybe to full demons, not to me.”

“Not that I’ve encountered, at least,” Gurlien says, and he too is bouncing on his toes. “Some spirits, yes. Wights, not really,but they have a big culture of not going back on their words so practically yes.”

“So we really get a way out,” Delina muses, before scuffing the toe of her boot on the grimy snow of the alleyway.

“Yep,” Maison replies, grim, and they all fall silent.

Delina sidles up to Maison, pressing her shoulder against his. They’re mostly sheltered from the wind, but it’s still…nice.

“She can do this, it’s not even a small problem,” Gurlien babbles, breaking the tenuous quiet, and this must be his form of nerves. “The bunker we broke into two weeks ago was more difficult, this’ll be nothing.”

Delina doesn’t really have anything to say back.

“Do they burn their dead?” Delina asks, and both Maison and Gurlien flinch. “I get…nothing from out here from in there. Not even a bug or a mouse.”

“Dampening spells,” Maison replies, and he presses his shoulder back against hers. “Protects the area, doesn’t let any magic outside the walls.”

“Also doesn’t let any in,” Gurlien says. “So if we tried to strike the building, we wouldn’t be able to. The grate here,” he gestures at it, “sticks out just enough that it’s outside the spells.”

Delina nods, staring at the pockmarked brick. “So I’ll get hit by it inside.”

“If there’s dead, yes.” There’s a clunk in the wall, and they all freeze, but nothing happens. “That wasn’t Chloe, that’s the wrong spot,” Gurlien says.

“What about a tank?” Delina asks. “Roll up a tank to the front door, would that do it?”

“Oh my god,” Gurlien mutters. “You are just like your mom.”

“That would explain all the extra guns,” Maison deadpans.

Another thunk on the brick, and they all freeze.

“There will be thirty-seven guards on duty,” Gurlien repeats in a low voice. “Most on the non-stasis floors. None active on this level. We’re okay.”

Maison shifts again, and Delina recognizes the motion now to know that he’s putting himself in a position he can easily shield her if needed.

He slicked back his hair that morning, just enough to break the silhouette, and combined with the beard he looks just enough like another person that her heart jumps, just a bit.

Delina herself had left her hair down, wispy around her face, softening her features away from what both Gurlien and Chloe called the Frisse facial structure. Away from the appearance that everyone who saw her would immediately recognize her as her mother’s daughter.

She doesn’t like it too much.

Another scratch at the brick, like a rat trying to eat through the wall itself, and they all watch, still.

Delina touches the pill box with the dead bugs inside, her fingertips soft against the hard plastic.

The very air seems to still around them, the chill far away, before the bricks fall open, revealing a half-sized door, Chloe crouched in the middle.

Gurlien exhales, then checks his watch. “That was only seven minutes.”

Chloe leadsthem through a darkened hallway, the only light the glow from runes written into the very walls, illuminating as they walk past.

The cheap carpet deadens all their footsteps.

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