Page 41 of The Girl Who Only Died Once

The demon snaps out a hand, and they’re not physical, but claws dig into Chloe’s skin.

Bright red blood wells up, slicing into her wrist, and Chloe barely has time to gasp before the demon slams her back into the wall, rattling her skull and jarring her vision.

Four things happen in fast succession.

One, Chloe screams, the sound ripped from her throat before she can squash it down.

Two, the demon whispers something, low and scratchy, that Chloe can’t quite understand. A language she never learned, a spell she’s never heard, a code that makes no sense. They laugh, throaty, and tighten their claws into her skin, in the exact place the other demon had gently held her.

Three, even though she can’t see into the other room, even though blood drips from the wounds in her wrist, vivid and red, Chloe knows, just knows, that the other demon is out there, tantalizingly close. Like he was just waiting for this to happen, waiting for the injury, waiting for the sudden act of violence.

Four, Chloe remembers she has a gun.

She twists, and the claws tighten deeper into her arm, but she grapples with her off hand and flashes the barrel over, pulling the trigger.

The crack slams into her, almost physical with the sound, and another scream almost wrenches itself from Chloe’s throat.

The demon jerks, claws snapping tight, before slacking.

And then, silence.

Chloe gasps again, then twists her hand out of the claws, all but flinging herself across the room to be away from it.

The gun smokes, ever so slightly.

Panting, Chloe holds herself up on the wall, clutching her wrist to her chest. It bleeds, thick in the way that will need medical attention, but in the other room…Someone moves in there, outside of her view, but the shadow trails behind it.

Chloe blinks back over to the demon in the cage. It lays there, inert, and the horrid ness of it crawls into her throat, like she’s gonna puke.

Her skin crawls, at the sudden lack of power that had been there just moments before, almost as gapingly painful as the bleeding gouge marks on her wrist.

And the still thrumming power just in the foyer, almost so distinct she can taste it, just out of view.

“Oh my god,” Chloe breathes.

The power in the next room shifts, and Chloe rushes back to the cage, grabbing her backpack before scrambling back away, catching a bare glimpse of the figure watching from beyond the door. The fabric is sticky, like the blood embedded itself into the material itself, cold.

And she’s effectively trapped. Between the death in front of her and the looming figure right outside the door.

The looming figure that almost certainly baited her to be able to get the bag instead of venture into a trap himself.

Shaking, Chloe raises the gun again, and her hand trembles like a leaf.

“Don’t bother,” the demon says, voice low, before he brushes past the door, staring intently at the dead demon in the cage. He’s in a different body this time, taller, with broader shoulders and short brown hair barely curling over his ears.

Chloe jerks back, clutching the backpack to her chest.

The demon cants his eyes towards her, then back over at the demon, appraising, and she fists her hands into the straps of the backpack, her heart thudding.

His eyes, reflecting the light, watch the dead demon for a long second, and in that moment, she catches a hint of fear, a hint of panic, and a hint of calculation.

“Leave me alone,” Chloe breathes out, when his eyes flicker obviously to the backpack in her arms, finally away from the corpse. “I won’t—”

He straightens, and the body is so tall, before some decision filters over his face.

“I don’t—” Chloe starts, before he’s suddenly in front of her, suddenly right there, his hand closing over her injured wrist and—

11

---