Page 150 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

Maison huffs out a breath, the lines around his eyes tightening. “I’m not surprised.”

“I’m only surprised that they’d keep bodies around,” Gurlien says, grim.

“These ones felt…” Delina trails off, unsure of how to describe the careful, deliberate nature of the deaths. “More like experiments.”

“Oh my god,” Chloe mumbles, then shakes out her hands. “We need to keep moving.”

Delina nods, pulling whatever composure she can to her. “I don’t think I can raise them all.”

Her voice is smaller than she’d like.

“Yeah, definitely don’t,” Gurlien says, and he ventures forward, a ghost of a frown across his face. “Conserve your energy until we need it.”

They creepthrough rows upon rows of cubicles, all lit by just the glow of runes as they pass by, and each time the badges they wear briefly warm.

And each step, Delina’s able to feel more deaths.

They have to stop, frequently, to undo traps and securities both small and large. A notification spell someone sketched near their desk, so they know if someone’s walking up behind them. A trap meant to stop someone unwanted in their tracks, close to the printer. A glowing rune on the bathroom door, keeping track of how many times it's opened and closed, how many rolls of toilet paper inside.

A trap that Chloe says would snap drain the blood of anyone unexpected who steps unknowingly inside of it. It was coded to recognize everyone who should be there, so only intruders would get ensnared.

“We’re not pretending this is normal, are we?” Delina mumbles, as Chloe painstakingly clears the way on that one. “Instant death seems a bit rough for an intruder.”

“Only if you didn’t grow up in it,” Maison replies, his eyes glowing red as he watches Chloe. “Everyone here probably did, probably thought it was standard.”

“And there,” Gurlien points, “is the head of Toronto’s office. Anyone doing espionage, anyone trying to steal his secrets, would go through it.”

Delina swallows, glancing at the unassuming door. It’s just a normal office door with frosted glass and a standard nameplate.

The glowing trap unravels with a snap, and Chloe exhales, standing up and brushing off her hands. There’s a spike of pain there, in her fingertips, but Chloe doesn’t react to it so Delina’s not going to point it out.

“That one was nastier than I thought,” Chloe says, and her voice is strained. “Next non-demon one, Maison you need to get.”

It’s as close to a cry for help as she’s ever given.

“Did they use the thorn unravel?” Gurlien asks, and Chloe nods. “You can thank your mom for that, Delina. She designed the traps to hurt when taken down.”

“Of course she did,” Delina says, and Chloe confidently steps over the barren threads of the trap, so they follow.

They pass another hallway, before both Maison and Chloe still, sudden enough that Delina almost runs into Chloe’s back.

“We tripped something,” Maison says, barely moving, like he’s afraid extra motion will set something off. “A while back, something just went off.”

Chloe breathes out hard from her nose, her eyes narrowing. “I can’t tell what it is.”

“Me neither,” Maison replies, before he reaches a hand out and curves his fingers over Delina’s elbow, almost a reassurance.

“We shouldn’t stay here,” Gurlien says, eyes narrowed. “If it’s back there, if it’s delayed, we shouldn’t be here when it comes to us.”

Still, Maison and Chloe don’t move, and Maison’s hand over her elbow tightens.

Delina watches him, as his eyes move, rapid, across the entire hallway, before all the runes dim, the light fading away.

A chill steals over Delina and she shivers.

“Guys?” Gurlien asks, and there’s a hint of fear in his voice, lilting upwards. “What do you see?”

There’s nothing, just the light dimming until all she can see is the vague silhouettes of the group around her.

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