Page 55 of The Girl Who Only Died Once

Chloe stares at it, then turns off the phone, shoving it into her pocket.

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She and Killian skate around each other, not quite talking and not quite communicating, until the anticipation eats underneath Chloe’s skin, but by then the sun has gone down and the weather has kicked up, fully out of the range that she could venture out on her own.

So she makes herself at home in the bed she woke up in, tossing the scratchy blanket off to the side and burrowing deeper underneath the sheets, and doesn’t sleep at all.

Sure, she tries to, but each time she closes her eyes her mind buzzes with awareness, singing with ideas and a certainty that she would never sleep again.

The hours stretch on, interminably long, before her phone beeps, soft.

She rolls over, flopping her arm over to the oak nightstand, flipping it on.

MAISON (4:02 AM): Do you think you’ll find something more?

Chloe curls around her phone, the glow spilling over the blankets, relief at the distraction as warm as the light.

CHLOE (4:03 AM): Absolutely.

MAISON (4:04 AM): Someone freed some experiments from a small base in Jacksonville. They killed everyone on site.

Chloe’s gut clenches.

MAISON (4:04 AM): Eighteen assistants, four guards, two senior officials, and now there’s insane experiments out in the wild if you’re heading in that direction.

They would absolutely consider Ambra one of those experiments, so Chloe can’t bring herself to feel bad.

CHLOE (4:04 AM): What attacked them?

MAISON (4:04 AM): Nobody knows. The base is a crater.

MAISON (4:05 AM): Do you remember Jaycee from the year above you? She worked there.

It’s been a long time, but Chloe can imagine the other woman’s soft face and gentle brow, and she realizes she has no clue what the specialty was. What she learned, what she did, anything.

CHLOE (4:08 AM): What did she do there?

MAISON (4:08 AM): I don’t know, her specialty was in streamlining efficiencies, there’s no reason for her to be there. But she’s listed among the dead.

Chloe breathes out, controlled, before squeezing her eyes shut until her phone beeps again.

MAISON (4:17 AM): Stay safe out there. We’re all worried.

Chloe doesn’t sleepbefore morning, but by the time she dares to open the door to the little bedroom, the bright purple shoes are gone from the entryway and the single mug and plate are in the drying rack by the sink.

The bedroom down the hall is open, the door slightly crooked on the hinges, but the light is off, just the ambient glow from the rising sun.

And the demon Killian is nowhere to be seen.

Chloe brews some more green tea for herself, as if that will take away the headache of the lack of caffeine, before grabbing a cheese stick and some applesauce from the fridge.

Either the child has an incredibly limited palate, or Killian has no clue how to shop for someone. Chloe has her money on the second one.

The scroll is still spread on the tiny table, and some additional smudges of demon power line the edges, like he had sat there and read, his fingers trailing down the lines of written runes.

The entire house is quiet, not even the sound of traffic from outside, and Chloe munches on the cheese stick as she leans her head against the window.

The glass is blurry from the amount of protections written into the material, but the overall impression is one of snowy desolation. A few houses, each more ramshackle than the next, dot the single gravel road, and the sidewalks are strewn with dirty rocks from a plow. Power lines dangle from poles, almost reaching the snow, far outside the safety they should provide. A single tree, the leaves all blown off, decorates the yard. A pile of tires sits next to a half fallen down shed, brambles grown over them.

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