Page 115 of The Girl Who Only Died Once

To prove her point, Chloe grabs the magnet from the side of the fridge and spins just enough energy into it that it pops up, warping shape into a perfect cube.

It’s an easy trick, and Seanna is unimpressed.

“My dad was an experimental demon handler, I’ve seen that before,” the girl drawls, and it’s just enough information that it cements an idea further into Chloe’s mind. “You can’t impress me.”

Which is an awfully bold thing for a twelve-year-old to say, but Chloe’s not going to push it.

“I’m helping Killian with a…project,” Chloe says, circling back to the question earlier. “I have tools to do so, he doesn’t, so we’re…working together.”

“And sleeping in his bed,” Seanna deadpans, “you don’t understand, Killian is scared of everything. Why are you here?”

And the first answer that floats through Chloe’s mind is to bring up the spirit fox, but she stays her tongue at that, instead raising an eyebrow at the kid as the kettle begins to whistle.

“I’m making sure he doesn’t get trapped,” Chloe says, slowly, thinking of all the small places and ways he could’ve been captured in the last few days. “He’s breaking into bases. I’m making sure he can get out.”

She squints at her, then shrugs, obviously attempting to be nonchalant in the way that only preteens can be.

But her lips twist in something resembling worry far beyond her age.

“He’s weak around cages,” the girl mutters instead. “My dad kept him in one for three years.”

Chloe stills her motions, as she pours hot water into a cup of noodles, avoiding her eyes.

There’s not terribly many reasons to keep a demon in a cage for terribly long, not unless you’re trying to do something with them. Ambra had told her enough about that.

And Killian had wanted to kill the Terese project they found.

“Well, we destroyed the absolute shit out of his old cell in this base,” Chloe says, and the girl's eyebrows flash up before sheschools them down. “They’re not holding anything there ever again.”

Chloe grabs a box of pop tarts, her mind whirling, as the kid stares hard at the cup of noodles, waiting for it to be ready.

“I can teach you how to break demon traps,” Chloe says, finally, her brain swirling from idea to idea on how to actually teach it.

She knows about wards, she can see demons, knows enough about Killian to know he can switch bodies, but Killian suggested that she hasn’t had formalized training. Her mother was nearby, but the sharpness in the pre-teen features show a longer history of neglect than just that bad situation.

And Killian had killed her father. And the girl doesn’t seem too terribly torn up about that.

The girl’s eyes light up.

28

It’s another four hours before Killian wakes up.

Apparently, Seanna has an entire three ring notebook she had dedicated to secret magic things, and Chloe sketches out the bones of a demon trap, with instructions on weak points and where to shred them. On what to look for to identify them when you can see the paint, on how to find them if someone just tells you where they are.

It’s skipping over several layers of trap reading and destruction education, but the girl soaks it up with the same seriousness she stared at the cup of noodles, asking questions when needed and scowling at Chloe until she figures out answers.

Huge gaps of knowledge present themselves to be puzzled over, with highly specific demonology information in between. This preteen, this child, has knowledge of the construction of stasis chambers but can’t identify how to spot a ward written by a human vs a demon.

It’s a staggeringly depressing picture of her background.

So when Killian finally stumbles into the small kitchen and spots them sitting on the table, both bent over a cheap binder, he freezes.

Seanna bolts upright, immediately throwing her arms around Killian again, and he numbly pats her on the top of her head, narrowing his eyes down at Chloe.

They reflect the light, like he’s choosing to do that.

Chloe just settles back in the chair and grins at him, wide.

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