Page 76 of The Girl Who Only Died Once

Chloe’s re-downloadedthe college’s old textbook on demon combat onto her phone and already two chapters deep by the time he phases back through the door.

“Bodies are disposed of and no security cameras caught anything,” he says in lieu of a greeting, then eyes her critically. “You weren’t injured.”

There’s almost a question in his voice, almost.

“No,” Chloe says, and he shines bright in the dark room, practically lit from all the power he’s sending out, dwarfing the dim glow from her phone. “Were you?”

His brows flash up. “Do I look injured to you?”

“Well,” Chloe starts, and she sets her phone down on the bed, letting the screen turn off. “I have been told several times that demons don’t show injuries in ways that humans normally understand?”

He regards her, then sighs, flexing his power again, and all lights crackle back on.

Something down the hallway pops, and someone gives a muffled yell, but the streetlights on the sidewalks flicker on, except for the broken sparking one.

Chloe rubs her eyes, then gives him a thumbs up. “Nifty trick.”

“Amatur trick,” he counters, then, in a surprisingly human move, flops over on the bed next to her. “The hard part was not making it so obvious it brings down the entire college on our spot.”

“I believe that,” Chloe says warily, not scooting away from her cross-legged seat on the bed. If he wants to be weird about this, she’s going to let him. “Do we know if they made a report?”

Not moving from his place, he digs into his pocket and tosses two cell phones at her, causing her brain to hiccup. What can he pick up, what is he incorporeal towards, can he control that?

Still she pokes at the phones. They’re dead, as if all of the battery had been zapped in one flash.

“Check those,” he says, voice muffled a bit. “I didn’t see them use them at all since they saw you, but I can’t work them.”

So no obvious check in, no obvious communication, but she wouldn’t put it past the alchemist to have a hidden signal button in it.

“I also got this,” he says, then tosses the folding knife onto the bed. “It won’t trigger alarms. Wear it.”

“Neither will my gun,” Chloe says, but still shoves it into the pocket of her jeans. “Are you okay?”

He tilts his head to look at her, wrinkling his brow.

“Look, you did some high-volume combat magic—”

“—that wasn’t high volume,” he interrupts.

“—then did something to the bodies, knocked out power for an entire city block.”

“—it’s barely a town.”

“—and then collapsed onto the bed,” Chloe finishes, and he makes a face at her. “So yeah, are you okay? That was impressive and all, very spooky, but now it’s weird.”

He sighs, and she doesn’t quite understand the whole breathing in a dead body thing, but it’s a lot better than if he wasn’t. “None of your abominations have the same energy levels, I’m going to venture a guess,” he says. “It’s not the volume of the energy, it’s the amount I have to pay attention to small details.” He rolls over, so he’s staring up at the ceiling, and gestures, vague. “If I was just killing them and breaking their bodies, no problem. But I had to do it at a minimum of power, without teleporting, without drawing attention, without also killing you, without dropping the wards up here, and without causing major infrastructure damage.”

It paints a pretty clear picture, one similar to what Terese talks about. That letting go of all the energy is infinitely easier than meticulously targeting things.

And ironically, out of all of them, Terese is the one with the closest power set to full demons.

“So once we get into the base, once we get the readings, we should just have you unleash yourself?” Chloe asks, and he blinks at her, startled. “We get everything we need, then you can destroy it?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “You want me to destroy it?”

“You said they keep people captive, right?” Chloe says, pulling her knees up to her chest, and her heart is still pounding from the fight outside, from the shield. “They kept you captive. They kept my friend captive. Let’s tear it down.”

“You really have an anarchist streak in you, little alchemist,” he says, and underneath all the exhaustion, there’s a hint of amusement, almost something fond, and a thrill goes down her back. “You don’t think that would draw their attention down upon us?”

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