Page 66 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

His hair is even more messed up than it was the night before, but the circles under his eyes are lighter, and Delina stares down at him for probably too many moments to be excusable before she abruptly turns and heads into the kitchen.

Chance chirps a greeting at her, stretching his paws out on the couch, before jumping off it and meandering over and butting his head against her leg.

“Aww, good morning,” Delina whispers, scratching under his chin, and he leans into the touch. “You are just a sweetheart.”

The espresso machine brews just as good of a shot of espresso as the day before, and even though she can’t find where the beans are reloaded into it, it’s just as fresh and rivals most of the coffee shops she’s ever been into.

She takes her time, crafting an elaborate breakfast and an exquisite drink, settling into her bones. The familiar actions bring something closer to peace, despite the busy-ness in her head.

Somewhere between chopping up veggies and grating a bit of cheese for a scramble, Gurlien steps into the great room, giving her a suspicious look.

“What?” Delina asks defensive, before he even says anything.

“Are you a morning person?” he replies, poking dejectedly at the coffee machine until she swipes it with her thumb. “I haven’t been a morning person in a year.”

Considering he lost his magic and his job all at once, that would disrupt anyone’s sleep schedule.

“It’s ten AM,” Delina says, adding a few more veggies to the pan. “And not really, but it’s been a few strange days.”

His suspicious glance doesn’t go away, though he curls up on the couch, tucking his legs underneath him. “Did you sleep with Frederick again?”

Delina considers throwing the spatula at him. “Only technically.”

He squints.

“He brought me hot chocolate then we dozed off in the same bed,” she clarifies, and he nods in understanding.

“I can’t believe he defied them,” Gurlien says, and it’s too close to what she’s been thinking that she doesn’t bother to get him on a different track. “That’s definitely not how I saw that going.”

Delina can’t think of anything to say to that, so she aggressively stirs the scramble instead.

“Good to know your Necromancy is strong enough to bring back a full person,” he muses, and it’s still disorienting to hear it spoken so blatantly. “Inconvenient in terms of security, nice in terms of, you know, still being alive.”

“Thanks,” she replies sarcastically.

“There aren’t really any known and accepted methods of training Necromancers, but I would say that your gut instincts served you decently,” he says, staring somewhat blankly down at the coffee. “And Frederick…”

Delina waits for him to continue, stirring the eggs.

“I don’t know what to think.” Finally, he glances up and there’s a scowl on his face, as if the world hasn’t prepared him well enough for this moment. “I just don’t.”

“You and me both,” replies Delina, shoving her scramble on a plate. “And now we can’t even leave without demon threats.”

“It’ll subside in a day or so without you using it, or it should, in theory.”

“That’s not comforting.” Delina sits down at the table with her over indulgent scramble and her over indulgent coffee, as Gurlien grabs a power bar from the cabinet. “Are you and Chloe going to have to move?”

He hesitates. “Not yet,” he replies, guarded. “They know we’re in northern Washington, but Dr. Frisse has eighteen properties in the area, so it doesn’t narrow it down. We’ll have to avoid those three close stores, but there are options. I destroyed Frederick’s phone, so they can’t use that for tracking a confrontation anymore.”

The phone with all the pictures of his mother.

“I created a local backup,” Gurlien says, and it must’ve been written on her face. “Too many good contacts to just erase forever. And besides, he gave it to me to do so.”

That helps a little bit, and they descend into silence for a few minutes.

“I guess the possibility that he actually likes you is higher than eight percent,” Gurlien all but mumbles, after a good solid five minutes of ignoring each other.

“Thanks,” Delina responds.

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