Page 43 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

Unbidden, she smiles at the thought, and his eyebrows flash up.

“They didn’t like it when I told them their research was wrong,” she says. “Well, Boltiex usually indulged me in talking about it, but the rest always got irritated.”

She lets her finger trace on the rough canvas of the couch, some design that she can’t see.

“Turns out most humans don’t like being told they’re wrong and they should be ashamed of it,” she drawls, and this time his eyes crinkle upwards. “And it doesn’t matter how many primary or secondary sources you quote, they’ll still be irritated.”

“That’s not limited to them,” he says, before zipping up the med bag. “The moment you bring up primary sources, most people’s eyes will just glaze.”

“There was a scientist in the early days, back when…” back when the body was alive and chatting and Ambra wasn’t alone. “Who obsessively asked questions, took notes, and tried to source all the books I talked about. I liked her.”

Gurlien’s face solemns, and Ambra eyes him.

“She was related to the Necromancer, wasn’t she? Delina?” Ambra gestures at her head. “They had the same face.”

“That was her mother, yes,” Gurlien answers, cautious. “That scientist died at the hands of another demon.”

Ambra shouldn’t be surprised at that. “She asked some really risky questions, that tracks.”

Outside the condo, a child calls out to another, and there’s the merry sound of life, filtered through the walls of the safety spot.

“I want to ask so many questions,” Gurlien murmurs. “There’s so much scholarship around demons, and I feel like I have learned more in the last two days than I did in a lifetime of reading.”

“Then ask,” Ambra replies, and it’s almost a sort of bravado that keeps her talking. “I’m never going to be accepted back among them, it won’t matter if I divulge secrets. I’ll get any answer I don’t know for you once this is all done.”

Once this is all done.

He’s still for a few moments, obviously considering. “I’ll include them in my notes,” he says, finally, and it’s a strange de-escalation to the conversation. “Is there anything we can do right now to protect this place better than the last?”

She swallows that down and assesses her own power levels. Body pain aside, she’s not weak with her powers.

She should ward for alarms, protect this place within an inch of its life. Map out the line of powers until she controls it all.

This small city is outside the normal range of any demons, so it won’t be offending territories, just other wandering demons. Such a high level of alert would absolutely draw their attention.

But is her risk from other demons or humans?

“I have some, but they should be done outside the walls,” she says finally, mulling it over. “Alarms without beacons, etcetera.”

Still, she pushes herself up and only wobbles slightly, before pushing aside the curtains to the road below.

It’s a merry street, with a cafe across the corner and an ice cream shop next to that, and kids play, bundled against the cold.

Ambra closes her human eyes, letting all the light and sensory hell fall away, and settles more into herself.

It’s harder to do in a living body.

But still, her awareness of the pulse of the world, of theheartbeat of this small town, with the merriness and winter outside her window, grows.

There’s the same strip of magic she remembers from when she set this up, pulsing down the street, twisted among the trees and fluttering with the cars. There’s the ever-present thrum of the river, just a few blocks away, a conduit towards a major ley line, healthy and strong.

The strip of magic from the street flutters towards her, as if tasting the familiarity of her presence. She had been careful when setting up the safe spot, she’s always careful with things like that, and most of the local magic appreciated it.

Maybe that’s why the College put the wight next to her in the stasis.

She taps her hand against the strip of magic, compelling it into an easy twist around her windowsill, and it complies readily, flashing into the brick and teasing its way into the glass of the window.

Behind her, Gurlien hisses in a breath.

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