Page 161 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

“Jesus Christ,” Chloe mumbles, and Delina tucks her shoulder underneath Maison’s arm.

“You ready?” Delina asks, and he nods, and they follow the demon down, Chloe in front of them, Delina and Maison in the middle, and Gurlien in the back, still clutching the gun.

46

The staircase wouldn’t be out of place in a public school, with a fire hydrant and medical bag at the landing of the next floor, and Delina rips into it, despite Ambra glowering with impatience.

Inside are several shots of morphine, ready to go, more ace bandages, blood clotting powder, and gauze.

No splints.

“What do you need?” Ambra all but spits out, skirting close to Delina before jerking herself back after Maison straightens. “You’re looking for something, what do you need?”

“Something for his knee,” Delina responds, though her heart hammers, remembering the threat. Remembering the gold flashes from before, remembering her feet going numb. “We need to go faster.”

“Just heal it,” Ambra tells Maison, who stares down at her. “That’s easy, just heal it.”

“I can’t,” Maison replies, and he’s sweating, despite the stoic exterior, and Delina swears she’s going to get him out of here and to a hospital. “Half Demon, remember?”

Ambra gapes at him, then closes her fist around the metal handrail, tearing off a chunk like it has no more structural integrity than a pretzel, and tosses it to Chloe.

“Make a splint from this, it’ll be faster than him hobbling,” she says, scowling down at Chloe. “Shrink it and mold it, it’s easy, less effort than with other materials.”

“Can you—” Gurlien asks Chloe, but the metal’s already warping down, already taking shape of an immobilizing brace, almost immediately.

Ambra paces on the landing, short, agitated steps, her eyes reflecting back the strobing light, until Chloe hands Maison a brace, something they can actually use.

“Here,” Delina says, helping Maison down to sit, so he can stretch the leg out in front of him. She loops the string of death over her shoulder, and it tightens, imperceptibly, as if it’s holding on as well.

The kneecap gives a pang of pain at that, sharp, and he hisses.

“I know,” Delina grumbles at the echo of sensation from him. “This fucking sucks and you’re not allowed to get hurt anymore.”

She unwinds the ace bandage, as quick as she can, though her hands tremble, then fits the brace over his knee.

And there’s another wave of relief from the pain from Maison, at just that, before another death punches through from the level they just left.

Another death, and it's not someone who was in the cells.

“We got to go,” Delina says, and Maison pulls himself up with the broken handrail, “that wasn’t someone who was there before.”

Chloe and Ambra start clambering down the stairs, and Delina helps Maison swing his leg down the next few steps. It’s clumsy, it’s slow, but there’s less pain echoing from him.

The wall splits open again, and Gurlien fires off two shots, echoing down the staircase, and a death punches through Delina once more.

Gurlien scrambles after them, his eyes wide, like he’s choking down vomit.

Delina’s not sure he’s ever killed someone before.

Chloe stops at the landing, three floors down, and starts to sketch out the runes, before Ambra clenches her fist and the entire wall shatters, brick flying outward, filling the air with dust.

Delina cranes her neck upwards, up the staircase, and more boots thump against the metal stairs.

Unwinding the death from her shoulders, it thrums in her hand, angry hot, as they scramble into the new hallway before Ambra jerks the bricks back into place, melting and warping until they’re hotter than slag, glowing with heat.

“Oh wow,” Chloe mumbles, at the raw display of power, and Ambra smiles at her, satisfied.

The hallway is more of the cheap carpet, the lights dim and strobing red, but the alarm is more distant. Further away.

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