Page 27 of The Girl Who Only Died Once

It can’t, her friends are gonna lose their shit, but the little Wight’s fingers tremble at the very idea.

“Then go into the other room,” the older one instructs, and Stella nods, curt, disappearing from where she stands.

It’d be disorienting if Chloe hadn’t spent so much time with Ambra, who often teleported between rooms to get out of awkward conversations.

“Did you bring the gun here?” the older Wight asks, voice deadly quiet, and all at once, Chloe understands.

She didn’t want Stella around a weapon. She didn’t want Stella hurt, and Chloe’s very presence is a threat.

“He took it from me,” Chloe answers, because this, at least, is something she can give declaratively. “I woke up without it.”

“Good,” comes the response. “Why’d you shoot him at all?”

And Chloe sighs, almost tired of the idea of explaining the entire thing, even though it's a perfectly valid question.

But Wights are creatures of the land, wild spirits who are renowned for being peaceful and non-violent. Who prize independence from humans and demons alike, staying out of the way as much as possible.

“Do you know of the spirit fox?” Chloe murmurs, and the Wights brows flash up. “I was…once in a prison with her. She saved my life. She’s…she’s still in captivity.”

“Was the demon misusing her?” the Wight asks, with barely disguised fury.

“He was tracking her as well,” Chloe says, and it’s so strange, speaking about this so openly. “I have research, ways to find her, he stole them.”

“She should never fall into the hands of a demon,” the Wight says, and it’s a bit strange, to hear so much anger from someone with such a reputation of being even keeled. Even Axel at the compound had lightly complained about how impossible to anger Zoel had been, almost to the point of parody.

“I mean, I agree,” Chloe replies, taking another sip from the water, and it’s blessedly cool on her throat.

Besides the lukewarm 5-hour energy shot, she hasn’t had anything to drink for well over 20 hours.

“Who knows you’re going after it?” the Wight continues, still deadly quiet. “How many people have you told?”

The answer is probably more than she should have, but Chloe just takes another drink.

“Any other demons?” she asks. “Any other abominations, anyone who is a shell of their former power?”

She’s talking about Ambra, Chloe knows it.

“Anyone trapped?” The Wight leans forward, intent. “Terese, did you tell her?”

Chloe blinks, as she wouldn’t exactly put the terrified and traumatized woman on her list of threats, despite the fact that she did almost destroy the world.

“I told her boyfriend,” Chloe says, a bit unsteady, because it’s also a bit spooky that the Wight knew they were staying at that compound. “Terese isn’t a big talker.”

“So she definitely knows,” the Wight says grimly.

“She doesn’t want trouble, I can guarantee that,” Chloe says, wrinkling her face. “Neither does Ambra. She just wants to be left alone.”

The Wight just scoffs.

“Look, the demon who actively has all my research, everything that crafts an exact map to the spirit fox, he’s a much bigger threat, I can guarantee,” Chloe says desperately. “And now he has the ability to find her, way easier than Terese or Ambra who didn’t even want me to go on this quest.”

The Wight inclines her head, then throws a glance to the other room, where Stella must be behind the door.

“I don’t like the idea of any demon—full power or not—knows about your attempt,” the Wight says, which she can understand, even if it is massively unfair to Ambra and her attempts at peace. “And if they think you’ve failed…I like that even less.”

“Why?” Chloe asks, and for the first time since she woke up in her old bed, a fission of curiosity wells up in her. Why wouldthis Wight distrust them so much, why would she delay telling them about Chloe’s failure?

And she looks up at Chloe, her gray eyes clear. “Have you ever thought of what they would do to Terese if they ever got their hands on her? Have you ever thought of the information they could wring out of Ambra, if they recapture her?”

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