Page 33 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

“I can tell when you’re doing that!” Maison calls out, closer to the dead bird but facing the wrong way.

“Okay, so she can scanthateasily, that’s useful,” Gurlien mutters.

“Can I open my eyes now?

“How far away is he from it?” Gurlien asks instead of answering her question.

“He’s facing the wrong direction, I think,” Delina says, right as a big drop of water lands on her shoulder and splashes up to her face. She flinches, and all of the awareness of everyone immediately drops away.

She jerks back, her eyes opening, scrubbing the water from her face.

“So your concentration needs work,” Gurlien says, crossing his arms against the cold but still holding the flashlight. “But some senses are there.”

“Of course her concentration needs work, she’s never had to use it for that before,” Maison says, stomping back in the underbrush, shifting leaves around, getting closer to the dead bird.

“Now,” Gurlien says, his voice low, and Delina doesn’t think Maison would be able to hear him. “What do you want to do with the dead bird?”

Chloe whirls around and smacks him in the arm. “That’s too much,” Chloe says.

“It’s cold?” Delina says, unsteady. “I’d probably bury it so it wasn’t so cold.”

Both Gurlien’s and Chloe’s eyebrows do a funny thing, like they’re trying to not show their expression and fail miserably.

“We definitely need to take you into town,” Gurlien says, with a confidence that settles something inside of Delina. She’s always liked a steady plan.

10

Delina awakens the next morning to more lingering chill in the bed and a growing awareness of the dead bird outside.

She flops over onto her back and stares up at the open beam ceiling, letting her mind wander.

A bug crawls over the exposed bone in the bird, sending pinpricks of sensation towards Delina, and she hates it. Hates hates hates it.

The world no longer shines in gold, thankfully for her eyes, and despite the late-night walk through the woods, she’s back to her normal time waking up early, as if she still has an office job and a gym routine.

The main room of the cabin is empty, cold, though the plastic door still stands against the wind and Chance the cat sleeps on one of the pillows, barely opening his eyes to glance at her before falling back asleep.

The espresso machine still summons a perfect shot of espresso at her touch, and Delina watches it, detached.

In all of this magic, in all of the stress of the day before, and her mother had still somehow coded the machine to her. It’salmost obscenely silly in her mind, to bother doing something so small when the rest of the magic was so…big.

Scrounging up a slice of leftover frittata, she throws it in the microwave right as Maison wanders into the room.

He freezes at the sight of her. Delina doesn’t know where he slept, but by the look of the circles under his eyes, it wasn’t well.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Delina heads off, clutching the chipped coffee mug to her chest, as the microwave takes the longest time possible.

“I gathered,” Maison replies, guarded, moving into the kitchen.

Delina skirts around the counter to avoid being in the same place as him, her heart pounding.

He attempts a try at the espresso machine, and it does absolutely nothing for him, and a thrill of victory goes through Delina at his frustrated scowl.

“My bio-mom coded it to me,” Delina says, after the third attempt at checking to make sure the cord is seated properly.

“Of course she did,” Maison grumbles, then sighs. “I don’t know what they’ve told you, your mother is dangerous.”

“I should’ve been the one to decide that,” Delina says, then, before she can stop herself. “Why are you still here?”

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