Chapter 23

23

" H ey, just found a locked bunker about twenty miles away through some satellite pics, wanna come?" Chloe asks the next day, when everyone is otherwise peacefully sitting around.

Maison and Delina briefly lock eyes.

"What do you think you'd find?" Maison asks, crossing his arms. "We're in upstate Washington, you're not going to find riches and treasures in a bunker."

"Maybe guns, though," Chloe responds. "Usually, the abandoned bunkers up here have guns. Sometimes expired food."

"How do you know it's abandoned?" Delina asks, curiosity getting the better of her. "And isn't that…insanely illegal?"

Chloe shrugs at that. "Near as I can tell, nobody has gone in or out in around seven years, that counts as abandoned to me. One time, we found a bunch of hundred-dollar bills and a skeleton."

Outside of her control, Delina cocks her head.

"No," Maison replies, cutting her off, which just pushes her into motion.

"Want to make sure you're not going to run into any skeletons before you get to the front door?" Delina asks, and Chloe answers with a grin.

They drove as far as they could in Chloe's car, and had to hike in the last mile, and Gurlien complains the entire time.

"I didn't move out to the middle of nowhere for hiking," he says, as they tromp through the underbrush. His face is still mottled and bruised, the color mostly faded between a sickly purple and yellowish tone, but it doesn't hurt him much according to Delina's brief scans.

Maison, at least, doesn't complain, just watches the forest around them with a sharp eye.

"How many of these have you found since coming here?" Delina asks. The air is cool against her cheeks and the remnants of frost glitter on the forest floor, but blue sky peeks between the branches of the spruce trees.

"Not nearly as many as I'd like," Chloe replies cheerfully. "Probably eight or so, this is the closest, though."

"It's a miracle you haven't been caught," Maison grumbles.

"That's why I pick the abandoned ones," Chloe says, turning and hiking backwards while talking to him. "More likely to be old, more likely to not be discovered as broken into. And I don't steal much."

"Much," Gurlien deadpans. "It's where we got our gun."

After a few moments of quiet, a phone beeps in Gurlien's pocket.

"Oh hey, signal," Chloe says brightly.

"It's just Luis the scholar," Gurlien says, screwing up his face. "Yep, the College is searching for us, reached out to ‘known associates.'"

Maison breathes in, deep, as if trying to keep himself calm.

"Looking for me, Chloe, a ‘tall blonde woman with uncontrollable powers,' and maybe Frederick," Gurlien continues. "Hey, you're uncontrollable."

"Thanks," Delina says, and a scowl settles over Maison's face. "So they're unsure if you're alive."

"Apparently," Maison replies skeptically.

"You should dye your hair," Chloe suggests, and Delina isn't sure if that's the worst thing she's heard or not. "That'll throw them off. I cut mine when I left, they all knew me with super long hair."

"Well, that'll restrict our ability to get help," Gurlien says, sticking his phone back in his pocket. "Luis says he's gonna go dark for a bit."

A bit away, probably a few meters deeper into the forest, a brief strike of terror grabs at Delina, then a death punches through her stomach, filling her lungs, striking her across the chest.

She reels back, shoulder thumping against Maison's chest before she regains her footing.

"What was that," he asks, abruptly, a hand gripping her elbow.

Delina blinks, then breathes out hard through her nose, resisting the urge to double over.

They're all looking at her.

"Uh," she says, at a loss for words, at loss for how to describe what just happened. "Um, something…died. Over there."

Even as she points, the picture firms up in her mind. A small mammal, a chipmunk or something, struck by a bird of prey, rapidly moving through the air until the distance grows, lessening the punch.

Though her eyes still water.

"Jeez," Gurlien mutters. "Talk about passive perception."

"Were you actively scanning?" Chloe asks curious, as Delina shakes her head. "You could just…tell?"

"Apparently," Delina replies, and she can feel the beat of the wings of the bird flying away in her heart. "Small animal got grabbed by a hawk, I think. Died really quick."

"Could you tell," Gurlien asks Maison, "when she could? Any flares?"

"No flares," Maison responds, and his hand is tight on her elbow, comforting. "Was about as bright as a normal scan, just all of the sudden."

She twists to look at him, and his eyes glow red.

"You okay?" he asks, voice quiet, like it's just for her.

She nods, swallowing, making sure she's steady. "Just…startling."

His jaw clenches, but he nods back, releasing her elbow. "Tell me if you need anything."

It's a strange thing to offer after the last few days, but she just breathes out of her nose again, hard, as if that could get the stink of it out of her system.

The rest of the walk is easy by comparison, but the lingering death sticks in the back of her mind like a loose tooth, and the hush hangs over the group as they approach the bunker.

It's nothing more than a door nestled into the side of a hill, abrupt in the woods, no pathway leading towards it or away.

"Oh, it's a boring one," Gurlien says, even as Chloe bounces on her toes as she inspects it. "There's not even any booby traps."

"There doesn't have to be booby traps for it to be exciting," Chloe replies, barely paying him attention. "There's three locking mechanisms alone!"

Delina and Maison glance at each other, and he shrugs.

"You grew up with these people," she says.

"Don't put this on me, they were weird before I met them," Maison says, and they share a brief, ridiculous smile.

"Statistically, you are far weirder than either of us," Gurlien informs him, watching as Chloe wanders over to the door, tracing her finger along the seams. "There are probably hundreds of alchemists, maybe two thousand spell weavers, and what, nine Half Demons? Ten?"

"Depends if you count the hybrid attempts like Terese," Maison says, but genial, like they're actually friends. "Then there's much more."

"I definitely don't count them, only what, two or three of those survived? Including Terese?" Gurlien shrugs, too casual. "And now there's a grand total of two necromancers alive and in existence, so both of you are the weirdos."

Maison turns to look at him, his eyes narrowed in just the way they do when he's about to get very, very competitive, and Delina raises an eyebrow. Competitive Maison is rare, but usually fun. "Only two former magicians who have lost their magic."

"I guess," Gurlien replies, with a twist of his face. "That's unfair, I wasn't born like that, you were." Then he smiles, actually smiles, like this strange conversation is actually fun. "You've actually died and come back. That's exceedingly weird."

Delina coughs out a laugh at the put-out expression on Maison's face.

"You're in league with two or three other undead people, plus a cat, apparently." Gurlien grins, bouncing on his feet. "How does it feel to be in the same category as a cat? A cat that I've heard is stupid?"

"Is this how you two talked all the time?" Delina asks, a bit amazed, and they both ignore her.

"You're the one who irons his dress pants before going on a hike," Maison shoots back. "You can actually control that one, that's far worse."

"Just because I have class—" Gurlien starts, but Delina laughs at that out loud, "— doesn't mean I'm weird."

"You're the one who was camped in an abandoned cabin," Delina chimes in, and Gurlien wrinkles his nose at her. "And you keep a gun on a side table next to a couch."

"You dropped your entire life because of an insane letter from your mother," Gurlien points out, which is fair. "For all you knew, the cabin might not've even existed."

"Yes yes, you're all strange," Chloe calls out, where she's pressing her fingertips against the metal of the door. "Wanna help me with the locking pins?"

All three of them look at each other.

"I always help," Gurlien says, as if that could get him out of it.

"I wouldn't know what to do," Delina says, but tromps over to join Chloe by the door, and Maison watches her like a hawk, all traces of fun and friendship immediately gone from his face.

She misses it. He's never one to make friends easily.

Chloe hands her an honest-to-god lockpick. "I'm gonna transform this into a four-pin lock, so you can hold it open once I do. You know how to use this?"

"Definitely not," Delina responds, but Chloe's already turned back to the door.

The air shimmers around the lock, and…absolutely nothing happens, but a satisfied smile still sits on Chloe's face. "Here," she says, grabbing the lockpick back and jimmying it into the lock with a click, then holds it at an angle. "Hold here."

Delina does, and Chloe immediately starts poking the lock underneath it.

"This way, it's easier to transform them back, so if someone does come back, they won't know I've been here," Chloe says with a grin, her eyes alight. "That way, any alarms don't sound as easily."

"Is that how you broke out of Toronto?" Delina asks.

"You broke out of Toronto?" Maison interrupts, stalking closer. "How?"

Chloe gestures towards the door, one handed, "Exactly like this."

Maison crosses his arms over his chest.

"Look, it's their fault for training me to be a tomb breaker, then put me in a magical locked tomb," Chloe replies, but she's still smiling, like doing this is the best thing ever. Like she's the most alive by prodding this old, dusty door.

"Nobody's done that," Maison says, his eyes narrowed.

"Nobody they told you about," Chloe shoots back. "They don't exactly advertise." She digs her shoulder against the door, and another lock clicks, swinging the door open to reveal a grand locking mechanism, like a bank safe, and she rubs her hands together. "Thanks, Delina, that's exactly what I needed."

"I literally did nothing," Delina replies, but still deposits the lock pick into Chloe's outstretched hand.

"Welcome to my life," Gurlien says, but he too looks excited. "Any dead in there? What, I want to know now instead of when you get it open."

Delina blinks at him, then looks towards the dusty safe lock, and lets herself think.

The thick metal of the door blocks out most, but beyond a few faint stirrings of dead bugs —died of hunger, the pains still echoing through their husks—nothing.

"Bugs, I think," Delina replies, even though she's pretty damn certain of that. Better to couch it in maybes to not disappoint.

Maison side eyes her at that, like he can tell, even though his eyes are their normal grey.

"Oh those are fine," Chloe replies, then tugs on the lock wheel, giving it a preliminary spin and listening.

"How did you avoid the locking pits," Maison asks, and it takes Delina a second to realize this is still about Toronto. "Those are specifically to thwart lock breakers."

Chloe glances at him, but it's clear she's only half paying attention. "I'm smaller than everyone they designed it for," she replies idly. "I broke into the wall instead and walked sideways through it."

Maison stares down at her, then over at Gurlien. "You two are definitely weirder."

With another toothy grin, Chloe jerks the wheel of the lock again. It crunches, before the door creaks open, slow.

A quick glance at the lock shows that it's still intact, but instead of metal bolts, they're made of clay, soft and moldable.

"That was faster than the last three lock bunker," Gurlien says, checking an honest-to-god pocket watch. "You're getting better."

"Thanks!" Chloe replies sunnily, then pokes at the soft clay of the bolts. "Tried the bolt change instead of the socket. I think it'll work on everything but electric."

Maison raises an eyebrow. "You've been timing her?"

"Of course, I got to practice somehow, don't want to lose my touch," Chloe replies, then shoulders the door open further, pulling a flashlight out of the backpack.

A single lightbulb, long ago cracked, hangs at the top of the low ceiling, and everything else is coated with grime. The air is still, unmoving, and specks of dust hang in the beam of the light.

"Oh, it wasn't even properly sealed," Gurlien scoffs. "Too much dust."

"Why don't you buy a bunch of locked boxes on eBay or something?" Delina asks, drifting towards the shelving. A bunch of ammo boxes with their hinges rusted sit, cobwebs in between.

"That's not a real challenge," Chloe says, nudging a cracked plastic barrel with the toe of her boot. "This guy sucked at setting up a bunker, damn. The good ones are fully sealed, no decay or anything."

It's so fully surreal that Delina glances up again at Maison, who's frowning thoughtfully at the single room, poking through the shelving. The ceilings so low he hunches, just a bit, and his neck aches.

"Remembered to pack nudie mags," he says, holding up a Playboy magazine from easily the mid-nineties. "Classy."

"Any of that ammo nine mil?" Gurlien asks, and Maison shakes his head. "Damn, that's getting expensive."

"That's because you're bad at shooting. Have you ever actually hit anything?" Delina asks, and he gives her a thin-lipped glare. "Seriously, you're bad at it."

"Right, you lived in Arizona, you'd have opinions on that," Gurlien replies. "Though that would probably be incredibly distracting if you ever actually killed someone. Frederick, can Necromancers kill anyone?"

"Don't call me that," Maison replies automatically. "But yeah, they should be able to. What they can give…"

"They can take away," both Chloe and Gurlien chorus, then Gurlien makes a face. "Oh that's dark for Necromancers."

"Thanks," Delina chimes in. "What would that mean for Chloe?"

"Oh, I just reverse the changes, it's super simple," Chloe responds. "It's a top tier alchemist trick, like day one."

"Probably day five," Gurlien corrects.

Chloe shrugs, piecing through the dusty shelves, giving Delina the big impression that she didn't exactly care what was in the bunker, just that the door was locked. "Oh, hey, a birth certificate, that'll be useful."

"What?"

Chloe flashes it at Delina. "Official documents are much easier to change from other official documents, so if we need a new identity this'll help." She pauses, her brain skipping. "Did your mom leave you any new identities?"

"Oh my god," Delina says, as deadpanned as she can, crossing her arms. "How would I know?"

"Probably," Maison mutters. "What, she had like five."

"There are safes in most of the properties she left you, there's a high chance there are a few new identities somewhere in there," Gurlien replies. "She did too much to ensure you had some safe places to exist, there are almost certainly things we don't know."

It's officially too much for Delina, once more, so with a nod to Maison she turns on her heels and walks back into the muted sunshine of the forest.

The breeze hits her face, cool and welcoming, and Delina sits her ass down on a log, wrapping her arms around herself.

She's going to have to deal with everything from her mother sooner or later. Every technicality, every location, every house she doesn't need and every bit of magical lore and research to be found within.

After all this drama, it's still going to exist, and she'll have to deal with it.

It's way more daunting than it should be.

The hinges of the door creak, and Maison follows her out, squinting in the sunlight.

She waves at him that she's okay, but he steps out anyways, sheltering his eyes.

"You alright?" he asks, and no she's not, but she shrugs. He rolls his eyes, then sits on a rock across from her. "You're still a shitty liar."

"I didn't even say anything," she protests.

"Yeah, you didn't need to," Maison says, rubbing his scruff. In a few days it'll be a proper beard, and she's not sure how she feels about that.

"Is it always like that?" Delina asks, gesturing towards the bunker at his blank face. "Magicians breaking into things, all that weirdness, inherited properties?"

"God no," Maison says, stretching his legs in front of him, briefly distracting Delina from the conversation. "Well, magicians all have really flexible morality, that's true, but most are more like normal people with just weird jobs."

"Oh, I just got lucky," Delina says, and he wrinkles his nose at her. "Great."

"Well, at least you're wealthy now," he says, then makes a face. "I mean, that came out wrong. At least you don't have to work anymore?"

She doesn't know what she'd do with herself without work, but she shrugs again. "It's weird," she starts, slow among the birdsong and the still glittering frost, "to think about what it's going to be after I figure this out."

His eyes linger on her a bit too long,