Page 113 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

He stares at her, then rubs his face. “It won’t work.”

“Why not?” she says again, as impish as she can, and it almost pulls a hint of a smile from him. “It’ll require planning, but they’re not expecting me to just go to them, it’ll catch themoff guard. We can go in, save her, then you don’t have to sit here and worry about her.”

“It’s a lot more complicated than that,” he says, which is expected, but his shoulders loosen, just a bit, and if she can get him out of this misery for a few minutes, then the conversation will be a success. “Nobody can just waltz in and ask for what they want.”

She shrugs, which succeeds in drawing a smile from him as he shakes his head at her.

“Delina,” he starts, “even if there was something we could do, we couldn’t do it without more information,” he says, and she can just feel his heart breaking just by sitting next to him. “If they think I’m going to do something, they’re going to move her, they’ve done it before.”

“When my dad broke his ankle?” Delina asks, and he nods.

“So even if I wanted to go burst in there, guns blazing, I…couldn’t. I would need more information, we’d need to hack into their systems, we’d need to break in - which is incredibly complex by the way - and then we’d have to find her, all while they’re on the lookout for us.” He thumps his fist against his leg, a stark contrast to his calm words. “We can’t just go in right now.”

“Okay, so maybe tomorrow,” Delina says, and he smiles, briefly. “Or the next day, my offer doesn’t expire just because a few days have passed. It’s not the worst idea.”

“We need more information, and that will take days.”

“Then we will get it,” Delina protests.

“And if they spot movement from this area, they’re almost certainly watching in some way, then they’ll do worse, so we’re literally stuck. Maybe Chloe and Gurlien can leave, they’d be sitting ducks if that demon is out there and they cross the circle, but we’re stuck.”

“I feel bad about that,” Delina says. “I pretty much showed up on their doorsteps and blew up their lives. Nobody expected me.”

“Nobody ever expects you,” he says, and she’s not sure if it’s a compliment or not. “You’re the singularly most confusing person I’ve ever met, and I’ve met some weird as hell people.”

“You know, I think I believe you on that,” Delina jokes, and they briefly, ever so briefly, share a smile. “Before this last…however long…” her mind refuses to believe that it’s only been maybe a few weeks. “I would’ve laughed at the idea that your graphic design company had weird people, but apparently you know like vampires and shit.”

“Vampires aren’t real,” Maison says, then pauses. “I think.”

“You’re apparently half spooky, so who knows.”

That was a mistake, his smile fades at the remembrance of the situation they’re in.

“Delina…” he starts, then squeezes his eyes shut again. “I appreciate the offer for help, you are under no obligation to do so.”

“I know that,” she replies, crabby, before she reaches out and grabs his knee, in a motion of confidence she doesn’t fully feel.

A spark crackles from her hand to his jeans, and he flinches.

“I know that doesn’t hurt you,” Delina says, as if chiding him would make this any better. “I don’t care if you want my help, I don’t even know if I can help, I just don’t want you to think you have to do it alone.”

He looks at her, really looks at her, his lips turned down in a frown, his eyes pinched, and she makes herself meet his gaze. Doesn’t turn away from the awkward, doesn’t turn away from the creeping sensation that she should still be angry at him, doesn’t turn away from the fact that she’s not.

Finally, his lips twitch, and it’s not a smile, not quite, but still, she’s relieved.

“You’re giving me a lot of mixed signals, Delly girl,” he says, his voice deep and a little raw. “I can’t figure out where your head is.”

She gets the question.

“You ran away, you broke up with me, you saved my life, you’re concerned with me, and now you’re offering to put yourself in danger for me. Not for me, but for my mom, who you’ve literally never met.” His hand settles over hers, still grasping his knee. “And I think you’re trying to make me feel better?”

“Trying,” Delina admits, and he gives her a soft smile at that. “Not sure I’m succeeding.”

“Why?” His voice beaks, just a bit,

Because her heart hurts at the idea of him sitting here alone. Because she can tell he’s upset just by his shoulders and the lines between his eyebrows.

Because he’s held her through years of her depression, her helplessness at the rages of her own mind. Because he held her behind him when faced with someone there to end her, took the shot meant to kill her.

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