Chapter 38

38

T hey don't stop until the sun has risen over the flat farmlands and Gurlien directs them to a lone cabin, hidden behind a windbreak of trees about three miles off the main freeway.

It's more of a shack than anything else. While the roof stands steady above them, the wind whistles through the slats in the walls and dust piles in the corners, soft and powdery.

"Wait," Chloe says, as Delina peers inside, and Maison puts out his arm to stop her from stepping inside.

"What is it?" Gurlien says, and the cat is now zipped up in his jacket, creating an odd bulge on his chest.

"Demon trap," Maison says, staring down at the bare baseboards, and Chloe nods. "And something else."

Delina shivers out in the wind. Snow still technically falls, a few snowflakes here and there, but the wind cuts through her meager jacket.

After the scan earlier, everything feels dire.

"This isn't Frisse's work," Chloe says, kneeling down in front of the open door, peering down at the boards. "Not entirely."

"Demon trap is," Maison grumbles, then sticks his head in just enough to shine a flashlight up to the roof.

A dazzling array of symbols sketch across the ceiling, spray painted on, the color vivid gold.

"That is," Maison continues, and Delina blinks up at it, at the dazzling, looping lettering.

From the tutoring of Gurlien, it's intense.

Chloe looks back at them, at the rising sun, and sighs. "Gurlien, where is the next safe place?"

"There's a hotel about ten miles back," Delina supplies, but the other three already shake their heads.

"Not for at least three more hours of driving, and I'd like to be across the border by then," Gurlien replies, and despite the fact that he napped the majority of the drive, he still sounds exhausted. "If it's Alette's work, she usually allowed for more back doors that a spell weaver could track."

Maison's still staring hard out at the shack, before he taps Delina's shoulder twice, and the entire thing blooms gold.

"Oh geez," Delina mumbles, rubbing her eyes. Gold is written into the walls, twisted into the wood slats, woven into the very being of the shack itself.

And alongside it, a warping red/black power glimmers, shining like fresh tar.

"Is that demon junk?" Delina asks, and both Chloe and Maison turn to stare at her in the biting wind. "There." She points, as if that could help anything.

Immediately, red flashes over Maison's eyes as he aims the flashlight towards it.

"Not exactly," he replies, voice pondering. "But it's not…not."

"Helpful," Gurlien snips, and the cat mrrs in agreement.

"Did my mom have any demon friends?" Delina asks him. "Cause to me this looks like working together."

"Just Terese before she lost control," Gurlien answers, then his eyes widen.

Chloe cusses under her breath, then, splaying her hand on one of the twists of gold, slowly starts to unravel it.

"Take down the demon trap first," Maison orders, and Chloe rolls her eyes, as if that's what she's already doing. "I can neutralize the rest."

It's almost sad staring out at the twisted magic, but the memory of the scan and of the fury of Maison's power sends another shiver up Delina's back.

"If this is where Terese has been hiding," Gurlien starts, his voice muted, "we don't know what happened to the…the body. The body was still alive."

Delina stares down at the dust piled in the corner, at the wind whistling through the cracks. "Hell of a place to hide."

The air above the gold threads shimmers, blurring, and Maison steps forward, confident, and sparks swirl around his shoes, burying themselves into the folds of his pant legs.

Delina's lips part, at the living magic, as Maison crouches down, rubbing the red and black strip of magic through his fingertips.

"Whoever did this is still alive," he whispers, like the very walls could hear them. "Not the demon Terese."

Gurlien shifts. "So the human side?"

Delina stills, staring at the red-black strip in Maison's hand. It's not the malicious glow from the other demon, nor is it the familiar power she now can halfway recognize from Maison.

"If this is the human side, then she's a lot more demon than you think," Delina says, even though she's far less than confident in that, but Maison nods along absentmindedly.

"But this suggests some form of cooperation, so it would be early in the…event," Maison continues for her, and a hint of a dimple shows on his chin. "And it's not…malicious."

He spreads the magic between his hands, and it glistens. Still off, still unreal, but it's malleable in his grip.

Still feels sick.

"Not that this isn't interesting," Chloe starts, and the demon trap unwinds with a snap, sending harmless sparks skittering across the room, "but this is some weird spell weaving."

"Weird how?" Gurlien asks, voice well and truly frustrated. "All I see is an empty shack."

Chloe just has a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, just the hint of something, before she cracks another bit of magic in her hand and the entire room…unfurls.

Before she can even think, Maison has an arm across Delina's chest, backing her out of the doorway, but Chloe stands, her hands on her hips with something close to satisfaction in her stance.

A rug rolls out, covering the bare wooden slates, and though the room doesn't grow, a couch shimmers into existence and a bed tucks itself into a corner. The lone fireplace, with broken bricks, rights itself, pristine.

There's a counter, a stove, and though there's no electricity that Delina can see, everything is clean and everything glows faintly with gold.

All four of them stare at the room, then Gurlien sighs, explosive. "Illusion spell?"

"Weird one at that," Chloe says, honest-to-god dusting off her hands. "But it's safe."

Maison doesn't budge for a long second, before his shoulders relax and he lets his arm fall away.

Gurlien pushes past them, unzipping his jacket and letting the cat jump out. Chance sniffs the rug, his nose twitching, before turning around and meowing loudly at them.

Slowly, Delina steps inside, and the carpet is plush against her feet, finer than anything she's ever stepped on.

Maison settles a hand against her back, but follows her in, breathing deeply. "Still sets my teeth on edge. Not malicious, it's not gonna hurt us, but…"

Chloe prods at the stove, and it does absolutely nothing.

"It's a place to stay," Chloe says, opening the cupboards, revealing them empty.

They had bought sandwich makings at the last town, so they won't go hungry, but Delina at least wishes there was some way of making a hot meal.

The wind still blows through the cracks, but it's warmer, somehow, and Delina just breathes out, then hesitates.

Something bothers her at the back of her head, so she crouches down, looking underneath the bed.

Of course, there's a box, clean and pristine, the metal edges glinting in the golden glow.

"Your mother was insane," Gurlien's saying, flopping over on the couch, and the cat sniffs along the arms, but Delina's ears buzz. "It's an abandoned shack, there's no reason for this amount of security."

"It's just the paranoia," Chloe replies flippantly. "Remember how bad the cabin was when we first got there?"

Delina doesn't reach out to poke the metal box, it's not the same sensation she got when looking at the locked safe at the last apartment.

"Delina?" Maison asks, crouching next to her, then peering under the bed. "There's nothing there."

"Oh, so it's something disguised that only I can see," Delina replies, and Maison raises an eyebrow at her, and she gets the strong sensation that he really wishes he could yank her backwards but he's restraining himself. "Or just necromancers?"

She straightens and everyone's staring at her again.

"It looks like a metal box, tucked underneath the bed," she supplies, as Maison pokes a broom handle at it, and it connects with a resounding thunk.

"Of course," Gurlien replies, as if all exhaustion has taken all of the doubts right out of him. "She would do that."

Chloe also crouches down, then shakes her head sadly. "I can't even see anything. No magical trace, nothing."

"Do you want me to drag it out?" Delina asks dryly, and Chloe's nodding but Maison's shaking his head before she can actually do anything. "Maybe after we sleep."

It still buzzes against her mind, but they all uneasily put it aside, dividing up the bread and peanut butter for a meager meal, before a quick but vicious argument of who's sleeping where before—full of suspicion and full of unrest—they all attempt to sleep.

Delina wakes, far earlier than she would want, to Maison shifting next to her, sitting up.

The two of them had pulled the short end of the stick, sleeping on the plush carpet instead of the twin bed, but she just blinks her eyes open as he straightens, his breathing light.

The sun filters through the planks in the walls, warming the air around them, and dust motes hang still around them, settling into the Maison's hair.

He's still, inhumanly so, before he carefully slides out from under the makeshift blanket, rolling himself to his feet.

Delina's lips part, but she stills herself from saying anything, as he scans the room, his eyes red, before he carefully, ever so carefully, pulls on his jacket.

He's moving as if he thinks that any sudden motion would draw attention to them. As if he has to in order to remain undetected.

He glances down at her, visibly startling at her open eyes, before he holds a finger up to his lips, then gestures for her to remain in place.

Delina rolls her eyes at him, sitting up as quietly as she can, and he rolls his eyes right back, before mouthing, "Stay here."

She props herself up to standing, just as quiet as he is.

There's no motion in the shack, not even the breath of the wind that had plagued them for most of the night, and Chloe and Gurlien sleep on, though the cat blinks idly at them from his place draped over Chloe's back.

Maison tilts his head at her, and Delina lifts her chin.

"There's someone outside," he breathes, leaning close enough that her heart jumps, close enough so the fabric of his jacket grazes her chest. "They're not approaching, they're not fighting, but someone's there."

Instinctively, Delina glances towards the slats in the wall, but it's too thin of a slice to see out of.

"I'm going to try to get a better look," he whispers, and his hand falls to her elbow, steadying her. "Stay out of sight."

Delina nods, though she raises an eyebrow right back at him, and he grimaces at her expression, before stepping silently towards the wall, towards the dust encrusted window mostly covered up by particle boards. He leans against the wall, next to the glass, tilting himself towards the line of sight, smooth and fluid.

It's a motion she recognizes at once. Anytime they went somewhere new, anytime they went over to someone's house, he'd position himself near the window, facing the room but casually able to glance out.

Yet another bit of him that she thought was an odd quirk but it's really him protecting her.

His shoulders are tight, but his face remains impassive, like he's just woken up and just wanting to look around. Like this is nothing.

She watches in fascination as Maison's jaw works, as if he's somehow talking without making any noise.

Though his face is serious, it's not afraid, so she creeps up next to him, peering out.

Among the crunchy dry snow and dead cornfield, stands a woman, staring unblinkingly at them.

She's striking, with short white-blond hair and pale eyes, like someone took her and sapped all the color from her, and the very ground around her swirls with some strange energy.

The colorless eyes snap onto Delina, and she raises her chin, mouthing something that Delina can't hear, but Maison hisses out a breath.

Even from this distance, the crawling sensation of intense pain washes over Delina, her stomach dropping.

This woman shouldn't even be alive, and Delina can tell with just a glance.

Still, she doesn't move closer to the house, just evaluating Delina, before she vanishes.

There's another moment, where Maison still stares out the window, before he exhales, letting himself shift away from the window.

"Who was that?" Delina asks, though the hair prickles on the back of her neck.

"Terese," Maison whispers back, and it takes a moment for his words to register in Delina's mind. He sighs, rubbing his eyes, and in between one blink and the next, they're back to normal. "Well. I hated that, but she didn't want to fight, so that's good."

"She was in pain," Delina murmurs, and he nods, shaking out his hands. "How was she alive?"

"We should leave," he says, at full volume, and both Gurlien and Chloe startle awake.

"What is it?" Gurlien asks, and Maison shakes his head. "No, tell me, I want to know."

"We just got a visit from Terese," Maison starts, and both Gurlien and Chloe flinch.

Chloe stares blankly at the two of them from her place on the couch, before she springs into action, grabbing at her go-bag, scrabbling to shove her feet into her shoes. "What do we do, where do we go, how—"

"What did she say?" Gurlien asks, yawning blearily, but his eyes are sharp. "Is she still there?"

Maison's already shaking his head. "She backed down and left." With less urgency than Chloe, he rolls up the makeshift blankets that made up his and Delina's bed, his brows tight. "She rabbited the moment she saw Delina, I don't like it. She wasn't a demon, she didn't feel like anything I know, and I don't know how long she were out there before I woke up."

Delina's skin crawls, just barely, so she hugs herself. "Great."

"I don't know what called her to this place, I don't know what alarm we set off, I don't know."

Him and Gurlien lock eyes, before Gurlien swings himself up to standing. "Got it, let's get out of here."

"Should I grab the box?" Delina asks, and everyone hesitates, the three of them having a wordless conversation that goes over her head. "If only I can see it, that means it could be from my mother, right?"

"That's a risk," Gurlien says, crossing his arms at Maison, like Maison won the argument. "See if it's biolocked, but I wouldn't bring it."

Before they could change their minds or stop her, Delina crouches to underneath the bed, letting her fingers fall on the cool metal of the box.

It's just as inert as it was before, and she tugs it out, and nothing changes.

It doesn't open, it doesn't reveal itself to them, nothing.

And it's another thing she has to leave behind.

The sun is just starting to set when Maison finally speaks on the drive.

"We should talk about what we might see in Toronto," he says, and Delina leans her head over to watch him, well and truly bored with the waves of dead cornfields out the windows.

"Well," Delina drawls, "I know there are locking pits, I know Chloe almost died getting out, and there are demon traps."

He spares a glance at her before returning to the road. "It's a prison. We're on our way to break into a prison, then break out."

Delina mulls over that, testing how she feels, like it's a piece of taffy that she can pull at. "And we have someone who's come out of it," she starts, "and you. And they don't expect me."

He hmms, drumming his knuckles against the wheel, and it's only years of knowing him that she can actually tell he's holding back.

"I'm…" he starts, then trails off, like he's halfway caught between despair and hope. "I don't want to bring you in there, I don't know if you'll be able to get out."

It's not some authoritative sentence, it's not some controlling statement, and his voice breaks in the middle.

She shifts, not reaching out and touching him, but watching him, and he glances at her again.

"We're doing something you've told yourself your entire life that you can't do, right?" Delina asks, and he nods again. "I get it, that's terrifying."

"And if we fail, I lose you. And my mom. And probably…probably any sort of freedom of my own." His words stop, and he frowns, like they pain him to admit out loud. "I don't want to run away now, but I…"

"But you kinda do?" Delina asks dryly, and he nods, so she shifts again, so she can rest her hand on his arm. "I'll just, I dunno, necromancer drain the life of anyone who gets too close."

It surprises a laugh out of him, and she grins.

"I love you," he says, risking another glance, the serious expression filtering over his face again. "I don't…I don't want to lose you."

She could respond to it, but all the words are gone from her, so she just lets her eyes drift back to the rows upon rows of dead corn reaching as far as the horizon stretches.

"I'm scared, too," Delina says, after the silence is as long as the lines of sunlight. "I just don't think I know how much I should fear."