Page 138 of The Girl Who Only Died Once

Somehow, that little sentence emerges like a vow. Like in this entire process, it’s the part that’s most important. That despite everything else, knowing her is the biggest treasure from this hunt.

So she clings to him, almost wondering at her own actions, at how her hand comes up to fist around his shirt, holding him close. Like he’s the life raft out of this, like he’s the only buoy in the sea.

“If the amount of texts you get is any indication, I don’t think that your family is that angry at you,” Killian says gently. “If anything, they’re worried and miss you.”

“Not Gurlien,” Chloe replies, and it’s a bit more bitter than she had hoped. “He’s only texted me in the emergency.”

Killian stills, like he’s considering something, and Chloe pulls back enough to look him in the face.

“I could probably connect with his abomination again,” he offers, like that’s a normal thing to say in a conversation like this. “Get the two of you in the same room, I’m fairly sure she’d do that for me.”

“Probably,” Chloe says, almost begrudging, “she’s pretty frustrated by it.”

His eyes flicker to the desk, to where her butcher paper and spray paint sit abandoned.

“It wouldn’t work,” she says, which is one hundred percent the accurate truth. “It wouldn’t stop the fact that it’s because I died. Making his girlfriend bring him here to talk won’t solve that.”

“Nothing will,” he replies casually, but his hand is on the small of her back still, softening the blow. “Nothing will change your actions in the past, good or bad as it may have turned out.”

It’s the truth. It still stings.

He draws back, just enough to reach over and grab the bag of fast food, handing it to her.

“I can still tell you need to eat,” he says softly. “Whether or not you died and came back, whether or not people are angry about you or your life changed drastically, you need to eat.”

“You can tell that too easily,” she says, and she meant it to be a friendly grumble, but it comes out too vulnerable.

He shrugs anyway. “I like to,” he responds. “I like the idea of being able to look at you and know what you need.”

It’s a nice soft thought, one she grabs onto as she eats the burger, watching as Killian pushes himself up and re-wards some of the windows. He moves with the same strange grace Chloe’s seen from the other demons, a sort of ease with the magic of the room, with tying into the natural lines.

There are a hundred things she should be focusing on, but instead she just observes. The wrecked magic on the floor, the remnants of the previous owner's power, stir around his feet, as if buffered away by his sheer force.

No wonder he didn’t seem bothered by it, as he idly nudged some out of his way with his shoe. It’s absolutely dwarfed by him.

After watchinghim putter around and re protect the place, Chloe pushes herself up, approaching the table with the dropped spray paint and the butcher’s paper.

Immediately, he teleports to her side.

“Can you shift the leftover magic away?” Chloe asks, picking up the spray paint and giving it a testing shake. “I can tell it’s there and it wants to change things.”

Within a blink of an eye, it’s gone, and she sets to spraying out a trap.

Without a word,after she’s finished the trap, he slides another piece of paper on top of the desk.

“Another?” Chloe asks, shaking out her tingling fingers.

“A fail safe.”

Before Killian stiffens, his eyes flashing the light back at her, and Chloe tilts herself back.

“Another base was just destroyed,” he says, remote, his face utterly expressionless.

“Okay…” Chloe says, unnerved. “How…”

“I left part of myself there,” he says, still remote. “A way to monitor, a way to keep track. It’s gone.”

Chloe doesn’t quite understand the implications of that, but she shakes out her hands anyways. “Do you need me to find out more info? I can ask…”

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