Page 160 of The Girl Who Only Died Once

Killian’s hand flutters to the small of Chloe’s back, almost as if he’s reassuring himself before acting.

“There’s another broken demon trap out there,” he murmurs, and Chloe’s breath hitches. “Someone took great pains to break the demon traps.”

The lack of traps is sometimes just as much of a trap.

“I don’t love this,” Chloe starts, and he huffs out a laugh, “but unless you want me to dissolve some bricks, you should do the honors.”

“Aren’t you glad you brought me?” he remarks, dry, before flicking out with his other hand, the bricks peeling apart like blistering skin.

Revealing a plain room, white ceilings and white walls and unremarkable gray tile, full of cages.

Full of cages…all full.

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Chloe’s heart stutters, the pain so immediate and acute that it takes her breath away.

The wall is lined with cages, all with some animal in them, three cages tall and stretching on far longer than it should by all logic. It’s impossible for a room this long to exist under the water processing plant, defying all physics, stretching at her belief.

But the back wall is so far away it wavers, like a mirage.

There’s flickers of motion in the cages; the occasional tail flick and the rising and falling of breath, all creating the image of something much larger, much more than just animals in cages. Like the entire room is one morass of a life form, all broken in little pieces.

Killian inhales, before stepping out in front of her, blocking her body, hands at the ready, but…

Nothing happens.

No fire spells adorn these walls, the only visible security a slashed over demon trap, a spell to help with sanitation, and a quieting ward meant to suppress noise to a reasonable level, not fully squash it out.

An animal in a cage shifts at their movement, opening beady eyes towards them. It’s some form of dog, its fur scarred with sickly patches of visible skin, before it closes its eyes once more.

Like they’re not remarkable.

“Are these…normal dogs? Cats?” Chloe asks, and her voice breaks.

Somewhere in the back of the room, a cat meows, the sound squashed down to flatness by the quieting ward.

Killian exhales, then flexes his power out, expanding towards the first row of cages.

The animals don’t pay him any attention, and most can sense demon activity, even if it’s only on a very basic level. Most animals run, most animals hiss in fear, but none of these even react.

“Yes,” he says remotely, then, “some are magic, mixed in. All have traces of spells written upon them.”

“Jesus Christ,” Chloe breathes, and her compass still points forward, down the length of the room.

She steps forward, but Killian catches her by the wrist, startling her.

For a moment, his eyes are a remarkable, normal brown, before they reflect red back at her, a trick of the light. “I don’t trust this.”

“No shit,” Chloe says, and tries to pull her arm out, but he holds tight.

“No, there is something wrong with this,” he repeats. “This is too easy, this is too predictable. Something is wrong.”

He’s right, of course, but Chloe’s eyes still fall towards the compass.

“Let me…” he starts, then releases her wrist, hovering a hand over the compass, a clear question.

So, with her heart pounding, she places it gently in his palm.

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