Page 89 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

Maison only briefly glances at him, then back at Delina’s hand, where the magic shifts again.

“The other Necromancer, she used a death to defeat the demon Terese, yes?” Gurlien starts, almost bouncing with excitement. “She controlled one demon and killed the other. Of course it feels like a threat to you. It’s instinctual.”

Delina and Maison eye each other.

“It’s like reacting in fear to someone holding a weapon you don’t understand,” Gurlien continues. “Of course it matters who’s holding it, of course it matters what they do with it, but it’s absolutely still something you will just instinctively pay attention to. This is great.”

Maison leans back, before rubbing his face. “Great.”

Delina pokes the shifting magic in her hand, and it flexes as if it’s a sentient thing. A thing that had abilities and wants and interests.

“Once I took this, I couldn’t sense the bird anymore,” she says, slowly piecing her words together. “So once I take this, I don’t think I could bring it back.”

“Grim,” Chloe chimes in, but she drifts back to the stove for another serving. “So this is how Terese was conquered.”

“I think,” Gurlien replies, but his eyes are delighted still. “You just stumbled into one of the Necromancers natural defense mechanisms. I think.”

Maison looks halfway caught between the eagerness and sheer discomfort of sitting next to her at this time. “And this means we can practice on some offense as well.”

Delina pokes the magic again, it twines against her finger, kind. Like it recognizes her.

“Because if you snapped that in my face, I’m not sure what would happen.”

“I’m more thinking she could tie it on your wrist and compel you. Or, you know, any actual demon. The theory is there, we have one possible occurrence, we can draw some conclusions, this is great.”

For a few moments, Delina wishes that she could just sit here and enjoy the knowledge that she actually did something, to marvel at the sensation cupped in the palm of her hand, before she has to deliberate on what it’s used for.

Instead, she lets it unfurl, keeping her grip on one part of it, so it drops like a length of rope, shimmering and glistening, and Maison flinches again.

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” Delina tells him.

“I know, I know, it’s just…so weird. So very weird.” Maison shifts, and she’s not sure if it’s so he has a better look at the entire thing or if it’s to get further away.

“Want me to take it back outside?”

For a few moments, she’s sure he’s going to say yes, and she regrets even asking. That she might’ve wasted the potential of the bird, that she might’ve removed any possibility, however remote, that she could’ve brought it back.

It must’ve shown on her face, for Maison’s expression gentles.

“Or should I practice?” she asks, and it’s better than letting it waste, and the rope thrums in her hand as if agreeing.

“Practice,” Gurlien replies quickly, and Chloe’s nodding at the table.

“It’d be smart,” Maison says, and his voice is definitely not the strongest, and he swallows. “You could try some minor offensive on me, and I can tell you if it’d be something to pursue, at the very least.”

“I don’t want to make you…compelled…to do anything,” Delina says, echoes of their conversation at the brewery pinging through her mind.

By the look of him, he’s thinking the same thing.

26

After a few minutes of everyone else getting on enough clothing to be able to tromp around in the frost and Delina keeping the magic curled back up in her hands, Maison sits down next to her on the couch.

Chloe and Gurlien are still in the other room, audibly arguing over some magic theory, but Delina just watches Maison through her eyelashes.

He’s obviously steeled himself up.

“This is a good opportunity,” he starts, his attention still drawn to her hand. “Don’t wince away just because I’m uncomfortable.”

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