Page 35 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

No wonder he never spoke about his mother.

Gurlien recovers first. “So that’s how they’ve been keeping you in line, I always wondered,” he says. “It didn’t make sense why you didn’t go freelance.”

“Gurlien…” Chloe trails off, rubbing her face. “Okay, Freddy, that makes complete sense, sorry.”

There’s a lump in Delina’s throat, another crawling horror.

Maison’s jaw twitches, like he wants to flee the conversation but is forcing himself to continue it.

“So yes, I would very much like to do a check in that everything is fine and say Delina surprised me with a trip,” Maison says. “Combined with nobody knows who or what is going to come out of the woodwork because she—” he jerks his thumb at Delina, still not looking at her, “—is a beacon right now to who knows what out there.” He then pushes himself up, striding off into the wing of the cabin Delina hasn’t explored yet, his shoulders a long line of tension.

Chloe blinks over at Delina, twisting her hands together. “You didn’t know?”

“Of course she didn’t know, she didn’t know anything,” Gurlien says, though his brows are drawn together. “Explains why he took a long-term contract and stuck with it.”

Long-term contract, that must be Delina, and it still doesn’t taste any better.

Explains why he was so patient with her and why even at their worst, he didn’t want to break up.

“Chloe, bring your laptop to town, let's see if we can find records of his mother,” Gurlien commands. “Use the cached version we have of the surface records, don’t try to hack, not right now.”

“Do we know if his mother was the demon or his father?” Chloe asks, standing up with something resembling purpose. “That’ll narrow it down.”

“Mother was the human,” Gurlien calls after her, as she walks briskly into the other side of the cabin, then he glances sideways at Delina. “I want to make sure he’s telling the truth before we let him.”

She had thought she knew all of Maison’s tells when he was lying, but apparently not. “I’ve never met any of his family.”

“And you were with him for five years and you didn’t find that odd?” Instead of being skeptical, Gurlien leans forward, like he’s honestly curious and bewildered by that. “I thought that would be odd for most people.”

Delina leans back, desperately not wanting her personal space to be filled by anyone at this moment. “I take it you haven’t had many relationships where one party has things they don’t discuss.”

Gurlien just shakes his head, as Maison strides back in, carrying the navy not-quite rain jacket he practically lives in when it’s blustery outside.

“You and Chloe wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit you over the head,” Maison says. “I’ll give you my mother’s exact name and cell number if you need verification on your records.”

Oh, he’s angry. And still avoiding looking at Delina.

“That’d be nice,” Gurlien replies without a trace of irony.

“Here,” Maison says, then tosses Delina his phone, without even looking. “Have her hold it until you determine I won’t rat you out.”

The phone is off, cold, but the case is the one she bought him a year ago when he got a promotion.

If that promotion was even real.

“I know your dad has your new number, I’d leave that behind because they could use him to trace it back to you,” Maisontells her, jaw tight. “That’s where you’d have to worry about the tracking, I at least knew to turn off my phone when going to an unknown location.”

“There wasn’t any signal,” Delina protests, and he looks at her, really looks at her. Like she’s transparent, like he can see every thought and instinct and hurt that she’s having right now, and none of it is good enough. “And, to be fair, I’m new to this conspiracy stuff.”

“Well, you seemed to get a good grasp of it quickly,” Maison shoots back. “Quick enough to run away.”

Chloe tromps back in, a normal school backpack over her shoulder making her look even younger, then stills in the doorway, caught in the uncomfortable moment, until Delina gestures her in.

“I’m bringing my kit this time,” Chloe says, and by their nods, both Gurlien and Maison know what that means. “If we get caught off guard, we’ll have some materials for me to work with.”

“Good,” Gurlien says, then honest-to-god puts the gun in his coat pocket, completely unsecured. “Let’s do this.”

11

---