Page 76 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

No place in the forest is truly devoid of something dead, not with the moss decaying under the thin layer of frost that glittered earlier that morning, not with bugs crawling and dying and leaves and fallen branches and browned grass.

There’s new growth moldering over the dead bird, lessening the punch, but the knowledge that she could still bring it back sits beneath her spine.

The handprint on the back of Chloe’s neck, hidden underneath the hoodie, still burns in the cold air.

“Should we get antibiotics on your neck? Did the skin break?” Delina asks. “It’s inflamed, whatever it is.”

Chloe just blinks at her. “No?”

“It hurts, still.”

“Well, yeah, Korhonen is real good at damaging people, that’s his shtick,” Chloe replies, almost dismissive. “I’ll scar but I’ll be okay.”

“Dude,” Delina says.

Chloe shrugs. “They did worse to me in the Toronto base,” she says, as if attempting to dismiss it. “That’s where I broke out, and their defenses…let me tell you.” As if Delina needs the proof, she hikes up her jacket and shirt in the chilled air, revealing a mess of scars across her ribcage. “I barely managed to stop the mechanism that did this before it shredded me, left all my research behind, a little burn of a hand isn’t gonna take me down.”

Delina resists the overwhelming want to poke at the scars, to test to see how deep they are, if they still hurt, but Chloe tucks her shirt back into place. “This is starting to sound more war criminal-y than I’m comfortable with.”

Chloe gives her finger-guns. “You’re not wrong! There’s a reason I left, and people like him are a big part of it. Concentrate, diffuser.”

Delina rolls her eyes again, then, feeling more than a little bit foolish, tries to imagine that sheet of plastic.

It does nothing, but the plastic front door to the cabin slams open, and Chloe gives Delina a wicked smile.

“See, told you he’d find you more interesting.”

Sure enough, Maison’s striding towards them, hunching in under his coat, a scowl across his face.

“I’m just practicing her concentration,” Chloe says merrily, before he even has anything to say. “Just some visualization work, nothing risky.”

Maison doesn’t even spare Delina a glance. “I felt it.”

“You’re also only a few feet away, you’re attuned to everything she does, and you’re paranoid,” Chloe says, then shoots Delina a merry smile. “Try it again, see what Freddy sees.”

“Stop calling me that,” he mumbles.

“Well, if you’re going to be out here, you can be helpful.” Chloe gestures for Delina to continue, as if the entire outside didn’t get insanely more awkward. “Remember, plastic sheet.”

Maison crosses his arms. “Visualization’s not going to help her, she’s not an alchemist.”

“Then any ideas?” Delina asks, her voice sharper than she really wanted, and the flicker of hurt flashes over Maison’s face, familiar, before it smoothes over into his confident mask.

It’s the same mask he put on when he first met her dad, and she doesn’t buy it one bit.

“Don’t think about a plastic sheet, try to spot where the threads of magic flicker through the property,” he says, gruff, and the tips of his ears are cold, turning red and derailing her train of thought for a few moments. “Like this.”

Without her even thinking too hard, the strip of gold is in his hands once more, tugging from between the trees.

Chloe throws up her hands. “Or yes, do advanced demonology, that’s practical advice, thank you, Freddy.”

He ignores her, before gesturing for Delina’s hand and dumping the strip of magic on her palm.

Her heart jolts, almost unpleasant, like she grabbed a live wire, but nothing else happens.

“There’s a reason demons want necromancers,” Maison says, still barely looking at Delina, despite the strip of magic coilingin the palm of her hand, shockingly warm. “Using natural defensive tactics is much smarter than trying to force her concentration into a box.”

“She’s not always going to have you around to drop it in her hand,” Chloe argues, which is a very good point. “Don’t make her dependent on your protection.”

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