Page 97 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

There. There’s the alchemist warrior Ambra had seen.

“He’s a hell of a lot more sensitive than he thinks he is and I don’t care that you’re some superpowered demon person, he’s like my brother and I will cut you,” Chloe continues. “I want him safe and I want him happy. Kay?”

“Okay,” Ambra repeats, unnerved, but Chloe plasters the cheerful smile back on her face, and it’s somehow not fake.

“I’ve spent too much time teaching him to rebuild himself, I don’t want that to be thrown away just because a pretty girl kidnapped him and turned out to be an interesting mystery,” Chloe says, but there’s no ire in the sentence.

Ambra reaches a hand up to the shaved side of her head, before she slides the tinted glasses off her face, staring hard at Chloe, twisting herself into the sick magic of the cracked pavement of the gas station.

The alchemist recoils back.

“I don’t want to upset him,” Ambra says, voice deathly quiet, the sort of tone that makes far stronger magicians blanch in fear, and Chloe’s eyes are wider than Ambra thought possible. “But don’t threaten me.”

To her credit, Chloe stands her ground, face pale, and Ambra fits the glasses back on her face.

“I’m apparently hungover for the first time in my life and existence is miserable,” Ambra continues, and Chloe blinks, like that’s not what she thought she would say. “And Gurlien is the only person who’s been consistently kind to me. I’ll kill anyone who does him harm.”

“Good,” Chloe replies, a bit unsteady, before she smiles, almost bloodthirsty. “Give them hell.”

This, Ambra can respect.

“The only reason they got a shot in was because Johnsin was controlling me,” Ambra says. “And Johnsin’s dead.”

Chloe nods, and she’s probably heard that information before, but Gurlien bustles out of the convenience store before she can say anything else.

Immediately, Chloe all but tackles him into a hug, staggering him, before shaking him by both his shoulders.

“Hi, Chloe,” he says, disgruntled. “I’m fine.”

“You got kidnapped,” Chloe shoots back, and Ambratakes a step back. She doesn’t need to intrude on this. “You’re not allowed to do that, I was so fucking worried it’s not okay.”

Gurlien’s brown eyes flicker over to Ambra before he gently extricates himself from Chloe’s grip, digging into the plastic bag he bought and handing a bottle of toxic blue liquid to Ambra.

“Drink this,” he orders, but there’s no compulsion behind it. “I guarantee you’ll feel better.”

It looks like it’d poison her, so she stares at him instead.

“You do look hungover,” Chloe says, almost thoughtfully, which isn’t better. “Have you given her coffee?”

Chloe insistson dragging them to the small library in town, and Ambra trails behind them within the 45 feet, but giving them that little bit of privacy as they walk across the otherwise abandoned sidewalks.

Gurlien and Chloe whisper as they walk, their heads bent close, and Ambra kicks a pebble at the disquiet sensation that builds inside her chest.

It’s obvious they’ve known each other for years, in the fast conversation and shorthand of words, but they visibly squabble, a scowl tugging on Gurlien’s lips.

But it’s not true distress, obvious from the slope of his shoulders and the ease around his eyes. It’s just evidence of knowledge of another person, of his history and past before he met her.

Humans and their bonds and how massively different they are than demons. This isn’t a threat to her—not at all, not even in the short term—but it still chafes against her.

And if she’s going to fit into this world, if she’s going to atall exist around Gurlien after this is all done, she has to accept it and she has to be the one to deal.

Her eyes trail onto the leash, shifting slightly as he gestures emphatically with that arm. It’s not uncomfortable, not exactly, but after the kiss from before she could swear that she’s more aware of it.

Like it’s ever something she could ignore.

The library is a puff of warm air and a familiar scent of old books, stronger in a living body but nonetheless welcome. There’s a rich carpet under her feet, well-trod along the paths of the bookcases, and it’s empty but for one librarian and one homeless man nodding off in the corner.

Chloe tugs Gurlien into one of the small study rooms, then waves Ambra inside when she hesitates.

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