Page 101 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

“Do you want to come as well?” Ambra offers, and both the humans stare at her as if caught. “I saw your alchemy in the base, you’re more than capable.”

“I’m banned in Europe,” Chloe blurts out.

“We’ll avoid the College officials, I can get you in and out easily,” Ambra continues, before Gurlien taps her on the arm, drawing her attention.

“She’s banned from about eight countries, not just in the magical community,” he informs her, which is delightful, and despite the hangover a smile tugs at her lips. “She can’t do any of that.”

“Why?” Ambra asks, leaning forward, and Chloe responds by rolling her eyes at Gurlien.

“I ruffled feathers with my research,” Chloe says simply. “The College got my passport pulled and put me in some do not fly lists.”

Ambra squints, even more curious. “Research?”

Chloe just waves her hand, as if that could dismiss it. “It’s no big deal.”

“I like research,” Ambra offers.

Chloe smiles, a dimple appearing, then packs the stone back into her bag as an obvious change of subject, and all the sounds of the library comes roaring back, popping Ambra’s ears. “And, here. Courtesy of Maison.”

She hands Gurlien a ticket, then to Ambra. It’s laminated, plasticky, and Nalissa’s familiar script covers the entire thing.

“Turns out he’s useful at copying tacky art tickets from the internet,” Chloe says glibly. “Took him very little time to paint this.”

Ambra turns it over in her hands, her skin crawling at the handwriting.

The amount of help that’s been given to them all of the sudden piles up, overwhelming, and Ambra sits back down, heavy on the metal chair.

“He doesn’t even like me,” Ambra says, beyond her control. “I almost killed his necromancer.”

“Turns out he’s very willing to throw the College under the bus,” Chloe says, zipping up the backpack. “Combine that with a weird art project and he was all in.”

“And he was the first one to defend you,” Gurlien murmurs, and his hand grazes her shoulder, something between a touch and a reassurance, and she glances up at him.

He nods, as if he understands the emotions.

Before she can convince herself otherwise, she reaches up, curling her fingers around his, and he gives her hand a brief squeeze.

“This also gives you an entry into the catacombs,” Chloe says, though her brows are also raised. “So you don’t have to sneak in or teleport.”

Gurlien examines the ticket. “Is she really doing punkmetal?” he asks, derisive. “She’s doing punk metal in the fucking catacombs?”

“Three bands, too,” Chloe replies. “That was the difficult part for Maison, fitting all the band names so tiny.”

Ambra nods, the lump in her throat. “I’ll text him thank you,” she says, and her voice barely trembles at that. “That was help he didn’t need to give.”

She stands up again, trying to ignore all the chemicals flooding through her body, and with another nod to Chloe, teleports herself and Gurlien away.

They’resilent as they pack up the corner apartment, a heavy silence, the only sounds their soft footsteps and the paper crinkling as Gurlien rolls up the maps.

“Will our base be the library?” Gurlien asks, after the long quiet.

“It’s not set up for human habitation,” Ambra replies, and her voice is scratchy with the combined emotions and hangovers. “No running water. I have…I know of a small house near Paris, it’ll be far easier.”

If they get separated, Gurlien could go there by himself, make it back to somewhere safe.

He’s watching her, but she doesn’t look over as she folds up another sweater into the duffle bag.

The tickets make it all the more real. That in just a short amount of time, she’ll see Nalissa again. Have the potential to end her, to sever one remaining part of the leash.

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