Page 104 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

An opportunity.

Before she can doubt herself, Delina lurches towards the dead bug tucked under the table, and her fingertips graze it just enough that she pulls it towards her, pulls the little coil of gold into the palm of her hand.

It’s only her second time doing it, but it surges through her with the ‘rightness’ of the sensation.

In a flash, Korhonen snaps magic out towards her, vicious, and Delina ducks before it hits her, scrambling back to the shelter of the table, cradling the death in her hand.

Because it’s not just a demon, it’s him, too.

And all around her, everything spurs into motion.

Chloe chucks a bicycle chain from her backpack out at Korhonen, and midair it transforms, the air blurring around it, until it strikes Korhonen in the shoulder, drawing vicious lines of pain down his arm.

Gurlien kicks a chair towards the demon, who flicks it away with a wave of her hand, still squinting against the direct light.

Maison stands, whipping the magic in his fist towards the demon, catching her in the stomach, and though black blood sprays, she just staggers back before straightening.

The demon’s eyes snap onto Maison, and panic bleeds into eagerness and mixes with the pain all around her. “You’re one,” she breathes, standing perfectly still, like blood isn’t still oozing out of her gut and Gurlien’s light isn’t still directly into her eyes.

Maison blanches, before raising his hand and deflecting another stab of magic from Korhonen that crackles against the shield.

“You’re one of me, you know—”

And whatever leash it is around her neck tightens, Korhonen yanking back, and her hand comes up and scrabbles at her throat.

It lasts for just a few seconds, before the demon clenches her fist and the tables on both side of her…detonate. A shard slashes across Maison’s face and he staggers.

Delina’s ears pop and the warping gold bubble blasts brilliant against her awareness. Splinters of the tables float in the air, and the demon’s clothes flutter.

The table in front of her cracks, and for the first time, she locks eyes with the demon.

Her eyes reflect the light, unholy, and a pained hunger flashes across her face in the light of the golden bubble.

“Necromancer,” she breathes, seething through the pain, reaching a hand out to her.

Despite everything else, the hand is tiny, petite, like it should belong to someone with a soft job.

Like the body doesn’t match the person wearing it.

Between that and a blink, the demon’s in front of her, fist closing around Delina’s shirt, yanking her upright.

There’s a single flash of gold, and a remote part of Delina realizes it’s from her, her knees buckling.

Another pop, and the gold bubble encircles them.

There’s noise, of course, from outside the bubble, muted and distant, and Delina can’t see through the warping gold threads out.

And her feet are numb, all sensation gone, like they’ve been wrapped in wool.

And it’s just her and the demon in the bubble, and from within the leash around her neck burns, a twisting pain.

“How are you alive?” the demon whispers, as Delina gets her feet underneath her, confusing with the lack of sensation. “That kills people, it kills everyone.”

There’s a jerk on the leash from outside the bubble, and the demon’s head snaps back, before struggling against it enough to stare at Delina

But there’s no more flashes of gold from her, despite the fist still around Delina’s jacket collar.

“I don’t know,” Delina whispers back, and the demon blinks rapidly, like there’s something she’s not understanding. “You need to let me go.”

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