Page 100 of Hellbound

“Pokémon,” Marian replied slowly. “I loved Pokémon.”

The memory unfolded like a crumpled piece of discarded paper. She’d won a GameBoy at a school raffle. But she’d had to hide it from her mother and Daniel, who thought video games would either make her fatter or turn her to the devil. Their rationale changed depending on the day of the week.

And that was all she remembered.

Tori looked thoughtful. “I bet we could bully Paul into getting you a Pokémon thing.”

“I think my Pokémon playing days are over.”

The thought of cozying up in bed with a console didn’t appeal anymore. She’d fantasized about paying off her debt and retreating to the woods, but only to isolate herself from the world—not to enjoy it.

Was that all there was outside of her shit childhood? Diving and her ill-fated journalism career? No, there had to be more. But why couldn’t she remember any of it?

Tori eyed her with blatant suspicion all while she positioned herself for another shot, took it, and sank two balls in a corner pocket. “Why?”

Marian shrugged again. “I dunno.”

“The fact that you’re not lying about any of this is a bummer. We gotta find you some hobbies, girl.”

The corners of Marian’s mouth drooped. “I did not have my ass handed to me by a haunted teenager so you could school me at pool and then tell me I’m boring.”

The traveler held up a hand. “Hey, I never said you were boring.”

But Marian was somewhere else, her eyes burning holes through the green felt on the table as she wrestled with a growing sense of inadequacy. She couldn’t even lose herself to a stupid game anymore.

You sad fuck.

“You know what,” Tori said gently as she plucked the pool cue from Marian’s hand and set it on the table. “This game is stupid. I have a better idea.”

Marian sat with her long legs folded beneath her in an armchair. The traveler occupied the one next to her, snuggled deep into the soft leather. A movie played on the screen, the only light in the dim room.

Tori had set it all up. She ordered Marian to sit while she tinkered with the projector controls and dimmed the lights. She rifled through cabinets for blankets, pored over floor-to-ceiling shelves of media from all decades and countries, and presented Marian with two choices: Pirates of the Caribbean or a Korean romcom she’d never heard of.

She cast her only vote for Pirates only because she’d seen it before and craved the small comfort of the familiar.

“This was my best friend’s favorite,” Tori blurted out about halfway through the movie. “I always thought it was goofy, but it was Addison’s whole personality for a while. She sewed her own pirate outfits and wore them to the big conventions, ren faires, wherever costumes were allowed. She always begged me to go with her—and I could never refuse her.”

Marian remained silent as Tori continued, watching swords clash on the screen as the traveler spoke in wistful whispers. “She eventually chilled out about it, but she still wanted to be pirates every Halloween.”

Marian snorted. “Sexy pirates or scurvy pirates?”

“Both.”

“How old were you when you guys last dressed up?” Marian didn’t know why she was even asking these questions, but they came easily for once.

“Too old,” the traveler replied.

Marian forced her weary brain to perform basic math. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two. How old are you?”

Marian bit her lip. Tori was so young.

And you’re so old.

“Twenty-nine.”

Tori arched a narrow brow. “Really? I thought you were younger. But, hey, they say thirty’s the new twenty.”