Page 96 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

“Why…” she lifts her chin, staring hard at the remnants of magic, before she bares her teeth at him. “Why are you taking me here?”

“Chloe said she’ll meet us here,” he replies, and whatever had happened between the two of them completely erased any fear he had at her expressions, and she’s not exactly sure when that occurred. “It’s close enough to where she is that she can, you know, get here in a reasonable time, but far enough away that it’s anonymous.”

“It’s not anonymous,” Ambra blurts out, and there are threads of necromancy, twisted in the decay of magic. “Did a battle happen here? In the last few years?”

He opens his mouth to answer, before shutting it, a peculiar expression on his face, but he strides back to where she’s stuck in place. “It may be,” he says, picking his words carefully enough that her curiosity briefly raises its head. “I know that Alette was hospitalized after something that happened here, but when I checked it out later, I could see nothing.” Gently, his fingertips graze the elbow of her sweater, and she’s not sure he knows he’s doing so. “What do you see?”

“A demon tried to explode something,” she says, staring out at the twisted magic. “A necromancer was here? I think? Whatever it is, it’s wrong.”

“Hmm,” he says, his eyes narrowed, like he’s slotting together a puzzle that’s bothered him for quite some time. “So something that would possibly affect someone who’s been raised from the dead, but not a normal spell weaver or random human.”

“Maybe?” Ambra says, and the hair on the side of her scalp prickles, before something he said a few moments ago trickles in. “Do I need to worry about the alchemist trying to kill me?”

“No,” he replies, and his lips tilt upwards, drawing her attention. “Let’s pretend to be normal people—” she scoffs at that, but he pushes onwards, “—and buy some Gatorade or something, then wait for Chloe.”

“Did Chloe pick this specifically because of this?” She gestures towards the sparking decay, where glints of light still dance across the pavement, sick. “Is this a test or something?”

He shrugs, which isn’t a good enough answer, beforedropping his hand from her elbow, severing the bit of contact, striding confidently through the rat’s nest of sickly magic and through the automatic doors, obviously expecting her to follow.

She scowls at his back, before stepping carefully around it.

A few sparks swirl against her boots, digging into her skin, stinging ever so slightly.

Still, she watches, and they’re sluggish, not what they should be. Flinging themselves across the concrete, as if something, anything, could help them.

Whoever did this, whatever demon caused this destruction, was sick. Ill. Wracked with pain.

She can understand that a little.

With a glance to make sure that Gurlien is within 45 meters, she squats down, letting her fingertips graze the concrete, next to the tattered magic.

It sparks up to her, arcing up from the gray pavement, nestling into her palm.

As gentle as she can, Ambra rolls the magic in her hand, stretching it, teasing it out, and it flickers, weak. It can’t hurt her, not beyond a few nerves firing where it hits her skin, but beyond that…it’s not a threat.

It’s just sad.

A completely normal car pulls into the parking lot, and Ambra straightens to standing, dropping the magic in her hand, her neck prickling, before the Alchemist—Chloe—steps out, a cheerful smile across her face. Her shiny black hair’s pulled into a tight ponytail and she’s wearing steel toed boots, but other than that she’s pretty much exactly the same as she was in the base.

Chloe waves at her. There’s nobody else in the car, there’s no strange scan like last time, everything’s safe.

“You found it!” Chloe says, way more energetic than Ambra’s feeling, bounding across the decayed magic like she can’t see it. “We weren’t sure if the coordinates were good enough.”

The coordinates had dumped them down the street and in the woods of someone’s yard, but Ambra’s not going to quibble.

Chloe’s eyes flicker past her, into the store, obviously finding Gurlien, before she smiles even larger at Ambra.

“You’re not going to hurt him?” she asks sweetly, and all the hair on the back of Ambra’s neck raises at the tone.

“He already got hurt,” Ambra replies, and if Gurlien hadn’t still been in the store, she would’ve teleported away immediately. “It’s healing, though.”

Gurlien hadn’t even bandaged it that morning, saying that it was ‘fine.’

“That’s not what I meant,” Chloe says, and she’s still smiling, but Ambra remembers the sheer amount of power that Chloe had flexed, even after making her way through the locking pits.

“I’m not going to intentionally do anything to harm him?” Ambra ventures, her voice lilting up beyond her control.

“That’s closer,” Chloe says, before scuffing her boot on a bit of crusted ice, completely ignoring the tainted magic, before her face sharpens.

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