Chapter 30

30

A t one point, after Gurlien and Chloe devolve into some lengthy conversation about some theory or another, Delina lets her head tilt up to Maison.

"Are you okay?" she whispers.

He's what she would call ‘loosely drunk.' It's the state right after tipsy for Maison, where his cheeks redden and any tension in his shoulders relaxes.

She gets a brief glimpse of his dimple before he nods down at her, hesitates, then sighs.

"I'll be okay," he replies, his voice as warm as the arm around her waist.

"Good," Delina declares, and he smiles again, and it's so close to the comfort they would share before all of this. Before the letter.

But it's after a day where he kissed her, where she saw him in his full demon power, and a day where she had pulled death from a creature and used it.

"Are you asking me because you want to know or because you're used to asking?" Maison asks, turning and facing her, his other hand going to her waist so she's in some embrace.

That's right, this stage of drunk for Maison is also where he asks the too-honest questions. Where he dives into deep conversation he wouldn't otherwise venture into.

That didn't change, just because she now knows more about him.

"Well," Delina drawls, because it's a fair question. "Probably both."

He weighs her answer, his arms still around her.

"And you're still acting upset, and I don't want you to be," Delina continues, and there's the self-preservation part of her that wants to keep it all secret, keep all the soft parts of her out of the light.

But the lights in the dive bar are dim and multicolored, washing them in colors too weak to be neon.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Chloe check in on them, then obviously direct Gurlien into conversation with her, facing away from the table.

So she hesitates, licks her lips, and the tips of her ears burn out of some strange amalgamation of embarrassment and nerves.

"Maybe I care, still," she says, after too long standing too close, every inch of her skin hyper aware of the points of contact between them. Of the weight of his arms around her, of the barest hint of where her chest leans against him. "Despite all the…complications."

Maison's face softens, his eyes flickering down to her lips, and her gut tightens.

Maybe it's the warmth from all the alcohol, maybe it's the kiss from earlier, maybe it's all the magic she's been doing, maybe it's that bullshit demon bond, but whatever they have between them abruptly floods through Delina, her heart in her throat.

She still wants him. Wants this. Wants the hugs and the soft embraces and the casual contact. Wants the drunken questions and wants the painting and the arm around her waist when she's just standing there. Wants the power, the panic, and the overprotective paranoia. Wants to see him look at her like he did before, and like how he did on the forest floor when she was the only thing that could control him.

It takes her breath away with a punch, before he recoils back, his eyes flashing red.

Delina freezes.

And all the hair on the back of Delina's neck raises. Something's off, something's wrong, and the very magic in the air constricts around her.

Chloe grabs Gurlien's arm, turns him back to the two of them.

"What's going on?" Chloe whispers, and her eyes are wide. "Something's going on, what is it?"

Gurlien looks between the three of them, fast. "Frederick, what is it?"

"I don't know," Maison says, deliberate, every syllable distinct. "Something is…off."

Delina forces herself to take a breath, the sudden tension like dousing herself in water.

The one other patron at the bar tosses a twenty to the bartender, then leaves, as if something's chasing him.

Leaving just the four of them and the bartender in the room.

The bartender watches them, and Delina can see the whites of his eyes. "Everything okay over there?"

He's sweating, too, and Delina can sense the single drop of sweat dripping between his shoulder blades.

She can sense that, she can sense the ache still on Chloe's neck, the sharp pain in Gurlien's wrist—worse than usual—and the sudden tension along Maison's jaw.

All without thinking.

Maison swings his glance down to her, and his eyes reflect back. "Delina?"

"I…" she trails off, her mouth suddenly dry, her skin cold where it was perfectly warm only a few seconds ago. "Everything is…"

There are two people outside the bar, between her and the skeleton of a mouse, and even though she couldn't see it, even though she couldn't touch it, it's like she could grab it with her mind.

The two people are…

One, the smaller of the two, seethes with an angry, chaotic sort of energy, half sour and half bitter. Their skin hurts, their lungs hurt, their bones hurt, their thoughts hurt. Everything about them is pain, brutal and violent against Delina's awareness, and they're furious about it.

The other…her scan slips off of, slithering away from him, as if the very essence of herself cringes away.

She grabs Maison's arm, unsteady, the tipsiness from before now horridly sitting in her gut.

"Someone's coming, they're outside, someone—"

The door to the bar slams open, skittering off its hinges, and the power slams off.

"Shit," Maison's arms tighten around Delina, swinging her back, the drinks on the table wobbling.

The bartender yelps in surprise, and there's nothing, no movement, the very air choking down Delina's throat. Not a stir of wind through the bar, nothing.

Until the bartender flicks on the flashlight on his phone, shining it towards the door.

The woman—she's the smaller one, she's in so much pain—squints against the light, throwing up an arm to shelter her eyes, recoiling back, until she thumps into the person behind her. She's petite, smaller than even Chloe, and one side of her auburn hair has been shaved to the skin, the other shorn harshly at her chin.

There's something around her throat, and it takes Delina half a breath to realize it's not something physical.

Behind her is Korhonen, and even before the flashlight beam hits him, the oil-slick drenched in cold sensation washes over Delina.

Immediately, Maison kicks over the table, sending the glasses shattering to the floor, and Chloe yanks Gurlien over, out of the way. Delina ducks behind the table, her heart pounding.

In the dim light of the flashlight, still held by the befuddled bartender, Korhonen points a lazy finger at him. "Kill the witness."

The woman grabs at the air, clenching her fist and yanking, and the bartender's neck snaps.

Just snaps.

The death punches through Delina, and she reels back, her butt thumping onto the floor behind the table, gasping.

For a few brilliant seconds, all she can see is the death, sharp against her awareness, closing around her throat.

Before the light from the phone clatters to the bar top, casting shadows through the entire bar, and everything stills.

"Good job, Frederick, at keeping some life insurance around," Korhonen says, as Maison crouches next to Delina, his eyes wide. "We weren't sure if she'd bother to bring you back."

"Where is she?" the woman asks, her voice high and lilting, and goosebumps prickle at Delina's arms. "I could tell she's here, where is she?"

Maison settles a hand on Delina's collarbone, keeping her down as she gapes at the death clouding through her mind.

Dimly, she sees Chloe crouching behind another overturned table, her bag in her hand, and Gurlien pressed against a corner in the wall, just barely out of sight between the corner and a broken pinball machine.

"Capture the demon and the necromancer if you can, and dispose of the rest," Korhonen says, still casually, as if he's ordering a drink from the now limp bartender, when the body is still warm. "Have fun."

All Delina can see is the shadow of the two of them, and the woman straightens, lifting her chin.

"Delina, demon," Maison whispers down at her, and Delina squeezes her eyes shut, in some attempt to block out the death still drowning out every other sensation. "I don't know how they can see her, but that's a demon."

She nods at him.

There's death in the bugs on the floor, death in the room with the bartender, and the mouse one building over, and Delina breathes out her nose and concentrates on the closest one.

A bug, some sort of moth, desiccated by time until it's almost dust, but the glimmering sort of gold still tugs behind Delina's stomach.

It's worse, doing this while her head still swims from the shots.

A snap of magic cracks out, harmlessly splintering a chair on the other side of the room, away from all of them.

Like the woman—the demon—can't see them.

In the dim light of the flashlight still on the bar, Maison's brow furrows, like it doesn't make sense to him either.

But they can't just wait for this demon to find them, to slowly destroy the furniture until they're revealed, and she sees Chloe come to the same conclusion at the same time, locking eyes with her.

Chloe nods, then gestures with her chin to Gurlien, who shuts his eyes as if steeling himself up, taking his phone out of his pocket, like that can do anything.

Inhaling, Delina glances up at Maison, then lets her eyes fall to the dead bug. She doesn't know if he can see it, if he can tell what she's going to do, but he's spooling up the magic in his hands, as if gathering ammo.

She'll need cover, she'll need distraction, the nearest death is still in the demon's eyesight. It's a horrible calculation, settling heavy in her stomach.

"Something's wrong with her," Maison breathes out, brows furrowing. "This is wrong."

It's wrong on many levels, but she's not going to doubt him right now.

Maison twists more of the magic between his fingers, eyes reflecting red in the dim light, a detached expression settling over his face, and she hates it. Never wants to see it again. Wants to give him a life where he doesn't have to think of violence, doesn't have to make the decisions to defend her like this.

Then, his face screwed up, Gurlien steps out of the corner.

"How'd you find us?" Gurlien asks, and the magic cracks against the drywall next to his head, the shadow of the demon pivoting to face him.

Gurlien jerks his hand up, the flashlight on his phone shining directly into her eyes, and she recoils back once more.

An opportunity.

Before she can doubt herself, Delina lurches towards the dead bug tucked under the table, and her fingertips graze it just enough that she pulls it towards her, pulls the little coil of gold into the palm of her hand.

It's only her second time doing it, but it surges through her with the ‘rightness' of the sensation.

In a flash, Korhonen snaps magic out towards her, vicious, and Delina ducks before it hits her, scrambling back to the shelter of the table, cradling the death in her hand.

Because it's not just a demon, it's him, too.

And all around her, everything spurs into motion.

Chloe chucks a bicycle chain from her backpack out at Korhonen, and midair it transforms, the air blurring around it, until it strikes Korhonen in the shoulder, drawing vicious lines of pain down his arm.

Gurlien kicks a chair towards the demon, who flicks it away with a wave of her hand, still squinting against the direct light.

Maison stands, whipping the magic in his fist towards the demon, catching her in the stomach, and though black blood sprays, she just staggers back before straightening.

The demon's eyes snap onto Maison, and panic bleeds into eagerness and mixes with the pain all around her. "You're one," she breathes, standing perfectly still, like blood isn't still oozing out of her gut and Gurlien's light isn't still directly into her eyes.

Maison blanches, before raising his hand and deflecting another stab of magic from Korhonen that crackles against the shield.

"You're one of me, you know—"

And whatever leash it is around her neck tightens, Korhonen yanking back, and her hand comes up and scrabbles at her throat.

It lasts for just a few seconds, before the demon clenches her fist and the tables on both side of her…detonate. A shard slashes across Maison's face and he staggers.

Delina's ears pop and the warping gold bubble blasts brilliant against her awareness. Splinters of the tables float in the air, and the demon's clothes flutter.

The table in front of her cracks, and for the first time, she locks eyes with the demon.

Her eyes reflect the light, unholy, and a pained hunger flashes across her face in the light of the golden bubble.

"Necromancer," she breathes, seething through the pain, reaching a hand out to her.

Despite everything else, the hand is tiny, petite, like it should belong to someone with a soft job.

Like the body doesn't match the person wearing it.

Between that and a blink, the demon's in front of her, fist closing around Delina's shirt, yanking her upright.

There's a single flash of gold, and a remote part of Delina realizes it's from her, her knees buckling.

Another pop, and the gold bubble encircles them.

There's noise, of course, from outside the bubble, muted and distant, and Delina can't see through the warping gold threads out.

And her feet are numb, all sensation gone, like they've been wrapped in wool.

And it's just her and the demon in the bubble, and from within the leash around her neck burns, a twisting pain.

"How are you alive?" the demon whispers, as Delina gets her feet underneath her, confusing with the lack of sensation. "That kills people, it kills everyone."

There's a jerk on the leash from outside the bubble, and the demon's head snaps back, before struggling against it enough to stare at Delina

But there's no more flashes of gold from her, despite the fist still around Delina's jacket collar.

"I don't know," Delina whispers back, and the demon blinks rapidly, like there's something she's not understanding. "You need to let me go."

Her fingers tighten, and there's a blast, something rocking the bubble from outside, but beyond a quick blink towards the wall, the demon doesn't react. There's blood, viciously black, still seeping from her gut, but she pays it no attention.

Another jerk of the leash.

"Do you want to be controlled by that for forever?" Delina bluffs, and the demon's eyes light up. "I can take it off, I can figure out how."

"They've trapped me in this," the demon breathes, almost too quiet for Delina to hear. "I'm trapped and I can't switch out."

"We'll figure it out," Delina says, shifting the death in her palm, her heart pounding. "You saw those two other people out there? They can help."

A side eye outside of the bubble, so at least the demon can see out. "It's an alchemist and a dud."

"The alchemist is powerful," Delina says, completely unsure if she's actually telling the truth or not, but not willing to stop the conversation, not when she might talk her way out of it. "The dud is brilliant, he has the most knowledge of all of us, he'll know exactly what to do. And the Half Demon—"

"He's just half?" the demon interrupts, her brow furrowing in horror. "He's not trapped, he's just half?"

"He could help," Delina replies desperately, tugging at her collar, but the demon keeps it in her grasp, tight. "Help me and we'll get you free."

She doesn't know if she can, but the bluff is enough.

"How did you find us?"

The demon breathes, as if weighing her options. "He had me track the demon," she says, throwing a nod outside of the bubble. "He threw up a flare, I tracked him down, he's glimmering with demon power."

Delina swallows, then nods. "Does anyone else know we're here?"

There's a moment, then the demon grins, baring her teeth. "No." For a blink, there's no red in the demon's eyes, revealing startlingly normal brown eyes, before the leash jerks back and another flash of gold blasts through Delina.

Her legs go out, and the fist around her collar is the only thing keeping her upright.

"He's making me," the demon whispers, half choked from the leash. "I can't stop him."

The death's still in Delina's hand, and without any finesse or real plan, Delina swings her arm and smashes the cord of power against the demon's face.

The demon shrieks, a high pitched, shrill sound, dropping Delina in a heap on the floor, the bubble collapsing around them, splinters clattering to the sticky tile.

Delina gasps, air fire down her throat, and all other noise slams into her.

Someone's screaming, the neon lights are back on, flickering, and there's a gash across Maison's face, a bright line of pain, but he drops his shoulder into the demon and they both drop to the floor.

Gurlien's huddled over Chloe, there's blood there too, and—

Korhonen hauls Delina upright, spinning her so she's facing the room, pressing a hand against her neck.

Dimly, she knows it should hurt, but nothing does. It's hot, so hot it should be painful, but nothing registers.

It's the same as what he did to Chloe, the same move, everything.

"Frederick, stop," Korhonen says, jerking Delina back.

Maison freezes, and the demon shoves him away from their scrabble, panting.

She's still in pain.

"Get up," Korhonen commands him then, as if to punctuate it, shakes Delina.

It should hurt.

It still doesn't.

"You still like this one?" Korhonen says, as Maison slowly climbs to his feet, raising his hands, his eyes wide. "Maybe I'll throw her in the cell with your mother."

There's so much dead in the room, the bugs, the brilliant line of the bartender, the ants in the aftermath of the bubble, and Delina can't grasp any of it, can't reach anything.

Korhonen himself is mostly unharmed, wound on his arm barely distracting him. His heart pounds, harder than it should, like he's scared. Like he's extending himself with this entire thing. Like his mind is racing and he's only a few steps away from losing control of the room. Of the demon.

There's even a trail of sweat down his back, itching at his nerves.

She's not usually this aware of it all.

"Do you want them to live?" Korhonen says, nodding to Gurlien and Chloe, not taking his eyes off of Maison. "You want them to get out of here? Tell them to leave."

Maison swallows, and she can see his Adam's apple bob at the motion.

The demon rolls into a crouch, her eyes reflecting the light back, and her lips are pulled back into a snarl. There's a burn, vivid and angry, across her cheeks where Delina grabbed her with the death, and the skin flakes from it.

Something trickles down Delina's neck, and with a jolt she realizes it's blood.

Whatever he's doing, whatever sensation the demon stole away, it's enough that she could bleed without feeling it.

Maison locks eyes with her, eyes still wide, some sort of calculation still flying through his brain. "I'll go with you if you don't hurt her."

Fuck that.

If Delina could control her legs enough, she'd kick out, but as it is she just manages a somewhat feeble twitch, and Korhonen shakes her again.

Korhonen's panicking, she can feel the acrid chemicals flooding through him, almost taste the bile in the back of his throat. He thought it'd be easy.

And his hand is still on her, providing her a direct line of all of his sensations, with just a thought.

With the dead bartender still almost blinding her, almost crowding out all of her ability to see, all she'd have to do is grab his hand and jolt him back. Socket the bones in his neck, smooth out the spine, and shock his heart back to beating.

She inhales, past the almost rabid want to give the life back.

"Wait," she mumbles, everything coming out mealy mouthed and weak, and Maison blanches, flinching towards her, as Korhonen pulls her away.

If she could give someone their life, she could take it away.

"You'll come with me?" Korhonen says, ignoring her words, directly at Maison. "Without a fuss, anything?"

Still pale, still looking at Delina, Maison nods, clearly panicking as well.

"No," Delina fumbles out, and Korhonen clenches the hand tighter on her neck. Every vein in his palm, the blood pumping through it, the nerves firing through his skin.

And Maison looks like he's about to accept a death sentence, just to save her.

"Nope," she says louder, then, squeezing her eyes shut, tries to reach out and grab that life power coursing through Korhonen. To twist her mind around the nebulous sense she has of him, twist around it and pull.

Nothing happens. At first.

Then, with a gasp, the hand tightens on her neck, and everything goes to shit.

Pain blooms, brilliant, through her neck and her chest, and with one sudden motion Delina can feel her legs, gets her feet back underneath her, though her knees are still weak.

So she pulls on that nebulous power again, still on the hand on her neck, as hard as she can.

The skin on his palm blisters black, then peels back, and the nerves abruptly die, one by one, and Korhonen lets her go.

She twists, he's clutching his hand in horror, panicked, shaking.

His eyes snap up to hers, blue and brilliant, before he screams.

Screams, like the sound is torn out of him, and all the hair on the back of Delina's neck raises. Screams like a child, like the very air is stolen from his lungs.

The skin flakes off like sheafs of paper, black spiraling up his arm, revealing muscle and sinew, before that crumples to dust.

Delina staggers back, and Maison grabs her, steadying her, pulling her away from Korhonen, away from the terror and pain.

The black reaches his shoulder, and completely silently, caves in his chest, and the lungs crumble into nothing, and Korhonen slumps back, dead before he hits the floor.

Then it's just a few small twists, and the black flakes over the rest of his body, until all that's left is a body shaped pile of dust.

And then.

Stillness.