Page 54 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

And with the glasses and the earplugs, it’s almost like she’s back as her own self. Like she’s a full demon, unbound by all the restrictions and annoyances, full of power and the ability to wreck as much havoc as she wants.

But instead, she begins to pace, feeding the power intoher steps, laying them down into the very matter of the wood. Sparks swirl with every motion, a beautiful little light show, nestling among her skin and the grains of the floor.

Even without glancing up, she knows Gurlien is watching her. He can’t see the beauty of her actions, can’t tell how precise she’s being with each step, but still.

If he had thought to grab the notebook she has full faith he would be taking notes.

So she keeps that smile to herself, and focuses on stepping protections into place.

The sun setsbefore Ambra’s done, and by the time she emerges from the trance-like tying of the magic, her hands shake and Gurlien is putting something into the oven.

She blinks over at him, as he putters around the kitchen area like he knows it like the back of his hand.

A few of her books are on the bed now, where he obviously did some research, and his notebook is splayed open, a few new pages full.

So he did go grab it.

Ambra opens her mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a halfhearted croak.

“Yeah, humans have to take breaks,” Gurlien says, already in motion and filling up a glass with water from the tap.

She makes a face at the dryness of her mouth, then pads over to the kitchen island, leaning against the counter. Her ears are sweaty, a somewhat novel and unpleasant experience, so she gingerly pops out the earplugs.

“I thought about making you stop after hour six, but nobody has any research on if it has to be completed in onego. I checked.” He points to the books on the bed. “Maison didn’t know either and Axel’s contact didn’t know if it would be different in a human vs demon body.”

Her fingertips tremble as she downs the water in one long motion, and it’s almost as good as the spicy food was that morning. Gurlien takes the glass from her again and refills it, before setting another bottle from the fridge in front of her.

It’s a brand that Nalissa always drank, so Ambra eyes it.

“Protein drink,” he says, when she makes no move to touch it. “I’m making an actual meal, but this will help.”

It doesn’t smell good when she cracks it open, but she sips it, before scrunching up her nose at the taste.

“Understandable,” he mutters, but she drinks it anyway. “Anyways, if I’m keeping count, I just disproved about eight theories of demons just by watching you.”

“Just eight?” she responds, chasing the protein drink with another glug of water.

She gets another crinkly eyed smile in return.

“It may not be that much more secure, but I’ll have more warning now,” she continues, then leans across the counter towards him to hide her legs trembling. “Distance practice?”

“Uh, no,” he says, eyebrows drawing together. “You need food and rest.” Still, his lips quirk together. “Demons aren’t good at resting, are you?”

She rolls her eyes. “I could practice, it’s not terribly difficult,” she says, and to completely undermine her point, her hands shake against the glass.

“Well, I won’t. Not till tomorrow.” He idly starts to clean up the kitchen area, the motions natural, existing in the space as if he belongs. “I don’t want to get somewhere and then have you faint and leave me stranded in the Alaskan wilderness or something.”

It’s mildly annoying.

“Besides,” he continues casually, and the hair on the back of her neck raises. “Here. The contacts ‘T’ and ‘Mel’ are your experts.”

He pulls the extra phone from his pocket, tossing it at her.

She tugs one of the stools over to her with nary a thought, poking at it apprehensively.

“Chloe’s in there as well, so is Maison, they have opinions.”

He watches her, so she scowls at him.

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