Page 100 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

“Thank you,” Gurlien snips, but it’s without any sort ofheat behind it. “I’d rather you be able to fight if you have to instead of complaining about a headache.”

“I can absolutely still fight right now,” Ambra replies, and his lips twitch up before he controls his face. “How does Mel deal with humans, then?” She leans on the table, but twists the body towards Gurlien. “He has to have specific tips, your psychology is the worst.”

“He’s dating one,” Chloe murmurs, as if only half paying attention to her. “Dotes on her and threatens to fight anyone who looks at her wrong. Doesn’t like Maison at all.”

“I can’t imagine Maison appreciating a demon around Delina, powers or not,” Gurlien says. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Ambra replies. “I wouldn’t want a demon around a necromancer I cared about either.”

Or a demon around anyone she cares about, to be honest.

But she’ll have to text him with that in mind, dig through his brain about how to actually communicate with humanity.

The words on the passport twist again, bright against Ambra’s awareness, before Chloe sits back, pushing the passport over to Ambra. “Here,” she says, and there’s a tiny bead of sweat on her brow. “It should work, ish.”

It’s still hot to Ambra’s touch, but she peers at it.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re very good at that?” Ambra asks, turning it over in her hands. “That took you what, ten minutes?”

“I did the prep work at…the base,” Chloe says, after a warning glance from Gurlien.

“I have research I can give you,” Ambra murmurs, letting her mind wander over to the library, over to the catalogs of books she’s kept and lost over the years. “It’ll be antiquated, but some of it should have ancient lock making.”

Chloe blinks at her.

“Thank you,” Ambra says instead, since her message seems to have been completely missed. “I don’t think this’ll be important, but I appreciate the effort and the artistry.”

Another half-smile from Gurlien, like she did something correct.

“So that’s what you meant when you said she communicates like you,” Chloe says, almost an aside to Gurlien. “I get it.”

“That’s absolutely not what I meant,” Gurlien says.

It takesChloe an additional hour to make whatever changes she needs to make with the gun, and Ambra sips more at the Gatorade and mulls over feeling better despite it. Gurlien adds to his notes on the catacombs (and Ambra tries really hard not to look at the section with the medical wing) and the small contact of his knee against hers keeps her…grounded.

Somehow.

But there’s the itch for action, the itch to do something, and every small shift of Gurlien’s wrist pulls slightly on the leash.

Chloe notices, too.

“Is that…is that painful for you?” Chloe asks, after Ambra fails to keep her expression neutral as they stand to pack up, return the small room to its normal state.

“What?” Gurlien asks, twisting to turn to look at her.

Ambra scowls at Chloe, who blanches at the expression.

Gurlien lifts his chin, raising an eyebrow. “Is what painful?”

“She’s asking about the leash,” Ambra informs him, the words bitter in her mouth.

“Right, because you can see it,” Gurlien grumbles. “Because I’m the only person who can’t.”

“It is a bit odd,” Chloe starts, which is an understatement, “from the—very limited—history of demons that I’ve been able to glean from Mel and Maison.”

“It’s not painful right now,” Ambra interrupts, staring hard at Chloe. “The remaining two haven’t done anything in two days.”

Chloe’s eyes flicker between them, and Ambra would do anything to fall through the floor at the moment, before Chloe just plasters on a bright smile that raises Ambra’s hackles. “If it’s not hurting, that’s good,” she says cheerfully.

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