Page 74 of The Girl Who Only Died Once

“They said your name,” he says, and the vice closes around her chest again. “They didn’t know if it was you, but they said your name.”

“Fuck,” Chloe spits out, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. “Fuck, I need to leave, I need…”

His hand closes over her wrist, ever gentle, and she startles. “You need to get back to the room.”

She looks up to him, and there’s a moment of…something. Of some strange understanding, of some immediate kinship, his eyes reflecting the dim light of the winter afternoon sun. His face is serious, but not panicked like before, all of his attention focused down on her, every line in his body pointed towards her.

Her mouth dry, she nods. “Yeah. The room.”

He nods back, but keeps his hand closed over her wrist as she takes another gulp of air, then presses onwards down the street.

18

They’re almost back to the hotel with the wolf fountain and the rusted shell of a roller coaster, when he tenses again, his fingers tightening against the fragile skin on her wrist.

“What,” Chloe breathes, her heart jumping. The sun has set around them, the street lights flickering on above them, indecisive.

He says nothing, glancing up at the rickety hotel, then over at the chop shop.

Chloe throws a glance behind her, and just far enough away to be not suspicious, the man with the close-cropped hair idles, investigating a dark storefront like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

Their eyes meet in the reflection of the glass.

“Wait—” Killian starts, then inhales, yanking Chloe closer, flashing a golden shield up around them.

Chloe’s seen demon shields before, seen what Maison could do to defend Delina, but the wholeness of this one takes her breath away. She has but just a spare moment to marvel at thegolden warping bubble, at the individual threads around her, before something solid rocks against the shield.

Killian grunts, clutching Chloe close, the shield constricting around the two of them, and a string of spell weaving snaps at them, clattering against the shield and falling to the ground.

The spellweaver doesn’t give them a chance to recover, snapping out something towards Chloe’s feet, skating around the edge of the shield.

Which, unless he’s stupid, he knows exactly what a demon bubble looks like and knows exactly that that sort of attack would do nothing. They’re educated almost as soon as they get into the college to identify that sort of defense, he would have no excuse.

“Chloe?” the man says, and his voice is just familiar enough that it plays on the edge of her memory. “Chloe, what the hell?”

He drops his hands down, like he’s no longer going to attack her, like she couldn’t see the magic twisted in the needle held loosely between his fingers.

The woman behind him steps up, eyes focused directly onto Chloe.

“You have me mistaken for someone else,” Chloe bluffs, and Killian’s hands tighten around her, and she spares a thought for how odd that must look to the outside. Where here she is, inside a demon bubble, invisible arms clutching at her, creasing her clothing.

The woman remains silent, her eyes glittering with the reflection of the shield.

“And what is…that?” the man says, gesturing wildly at the shield. “They say you escaped Toronto, did you steal demon tech or something?”

Slowly, Killian releases her, straightening himself behind her, and Chloe doesn’t dare look back.

“No,” Chloe says, and her voice is small despite herself. “I’m nobody, you have me mistaken, leave me alone.”

“Some sort of portable shield, something to stop random people, why are you here—”

The woman shifts, almost minute, and there’s a battery gripped in her fingers.

Chloe inhales as the woman spins the battery towards her. It blurs in midair, shifting to—

It crashes against the shield, exploding, shattering the perfect wall of warping threads, sparking up into Chloe’s face.

She has a split second to flinch, a split second to throw her hand up to protect her face, before Killian jerks forward.

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