Page 24 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

“Gurlien,” she starts, and he glances inside, “how fast does living human hair grow?”

Again, the non-amused look.

“I’ve never had hair grow once inside a body, how…how fast does this happen?” Her voice tilts up, outside of her control, and it’s a stupid thing to have an emotional reaction to, but here she is all the same. “Should it be this fast? This feels fast, I don’t—”

“It varies,” he says, parroting her own words at him. “Did they shave it every day?”

She nods, a lump in her throat.

He takes a very obvious glance at the shaved side of her head. “Human hair generally grows between half an inchand an inch a month. Some stubble after a few nights is within the statistical mean.”

Still feels fast, but she just breathes hard out of her nose, then grabs the brush and attacks the non-shaved side.

“If it causes distress, we can pick up some razors and you can continue it,” he says, and her throat just closes up further. “But that would be your decision.”

It shouldn’t be. It should be the body’s, but she’s gone.

“We should practice with the leash,” Ambra says, instead of anything swirling inside of her. “Test the distance, in case you don’t come with me when Nalissa or Boltiex summon.”

“We will,” he replies, and the neutrality once again shivers over her. Like in some way, while she slept, the balance between the two of them shifted in his favor.

Which is patiently ridiculous. She’s a demon and he’s a dud.

But he does hold her leash.

She braces herself on the sink, staring down at the spotted faucet, her mind briefly blanking out in terror.

He can’t do much, he could barely grasp it enough to break Johnsin’s concentration.

Gurlien gives her a last brow furrowed look, before going back to the backpacks, opening up the small room to a little more space for her, just enough for her to wrestle herself under control.

“Has there been any chatter about Johnsin yet?” she asks instead, finally wrangling the hair into something resembling neatness. It’s far from styled, but it doesn’t look like she slept on it anymore. “The faster we get chatter, the faster Nalissa or Boltiex will act.”

“That’s one thing we’re going to find out,” he says, zipping up the backpacks as she finishes. “I was going tohave you take me to Chloe, but T…Axel thinks they’ll be able to track your location through it so I’m not going to risk her and the others.”

He says the words like it gives him a bad taste, and she wants to pry, wants to peel his mind open to understand how he processes all of the human emotions without being as affected as her, but instead she just grabs his shoulder, teleporting to the coordinates.

7

He stumbles away with a strangled gasp, the backpack slipping from his fingers.

The coordinates are outside a small rural building, some sort of cafe, and the word that bubbles up into her brain is ‘cutesy.’ Snow dusted trees surround it, a few tables under umbrellas outside the door, portable heaters glowing at them.

The sign on the cafe is faded and peeling, describing breakfasts and lunches, and the dim roar of a just out of sight freeway filters through the trees.

Some sort of truck stop.

Through the grimy windows, a few people sit, hunched over coffee cups and plates full of food.

There’s nobody with magic in at least a mile radius, and Ambra holds her breath for a touch of the resident demon, but it doesn’t come.

Gurlien takes in a deep, steeling breath, as if once again the teleportation is rough on him, before he squares his shoulders at the tiny cafe.

“Sit and wait out here,” Gurlien orders, pointing to oneof the little tables next to the heater. “Don’t do anything strange.”

“Why,” Ambra asks, skeptical.

He sighs, rubbing between his brows again. “I’m going to go order food, the others will be here soon, and you’ll appear more normal if you wait at a table.”

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