Page 30 of Hellbound

CHAPTER NINE

Marian left the Annex with a slight buzz and a question rattling around in her skull: Where was she going to find a reputable spotter on short notice? There were others. Cheaper than Elio but missing the same sterling reputation; one had to be cool with whatever medical malpractice lost them their jobs in the first place. But even a questionable established spotter wasn’t in the budget.

Lloyd Wertz was, though. He’d just gotten out of prison and was looking for clients. Wertz was put away on assault charges before Marian became a diver. The preferences he’d posted gave her hope.

“Certified in CPR and wilderness first aid. Will do: suffocation, overdose, drowning resuscitation on site. Won’t do: strangulation, impact, aftercare, assisted death. Fee: negotiable.”

It read more like a list of kinks and hard limits, but it was exactly what she needed to see. Wertz may have been out of the business a while, but his price was right for Marian.

The guy put his phone number right there in his post like internet scams weren’t a thing. Marian didn’t even wait until she was back in her apartment to dial him. She nearly walked into traffic at a red light at a crosswalk tapping out the number. A car peeled around the corner in front of her as its horn blared and—

Elio yelps as Marian springs forward. She snatches the knife from his hands and rolls away with it tucked against her chest before the spotter can take it back. His shouts are devoured by the rising chorus of screams only she seems to hear. She has a new purpose—an epiphany that feels like madness, and the only certainty Marian has ever known. She presses the tip of the blade to her wrist and—

Marian snapped back into herself with a strangled gasp, nearly tripping on a lip of uneven pavement. It took her two attempts to hang up the phone. She clasped a palm to her forehead, knocking the brim of her hat up. Her hand came away damp with cold sweat.

Maybe she’d wait to sort this out at her apartment after all.

Marian had a spotter, a location, and a plan to die all sorted before succumbing to sleep somewhere around midnight. To her chagrin, Lloyd had heard about what had happened in the wake of Marian’s last dive. To her relief, it didn’t deter him from taking her on as a client. It required some negotiation, but Lloyd was so hard up for cash that Marian didn’t have to make many concessions to get him to accept Tori’s payment as his fee.

Marian awoke the next day at predawn again to another murky morning filled with listless shadows and buzzing nerves. She had all the symptoms of a nightmare hangover and, as usual, only partial memories of the Hell she visited in her sleep.

The rest of Sunday didn’t happen. Marian spent most of it scrolling on her phone and staring at the popcorn ceiling above her bed once the darkness vanished, vacillating between panic and paralysis. The memory of her last death was still fresh in her mind, and the closeness of it rankled her endlessly all while a sadness that had nothing to do with the grisly task ahead tugged at her limbs. Food in the fridge at long last, and Marian didn’t have an appetite for any of it.

Dirty laundry still lay strewn about her apartment, the baggie of quarters untouched on the kitchen counter along with the stack of unopened mail forwarded from her last apartment—all notices from collection agencies and a letter from Daniel’s attorney likely threatening her to pay the monthly due she didn’t have.

In those scattered moments when Marian was functional, she texted back and forth with Tori, exchanging meeting times, locations, and assurances that this would work out. Tori convinced Marian to drag her ass out to Long Beach later in the week to collect the rest of her payment. She should have fought harder for the Annex, but Marian couldn’t find the will to argue. So, she fired off a “k” and pulled the patchy teddy bear-patterned comforter over her head.

The only silver lining, albeit tarnished, was the ninety-four thousand dollars she discovered in her bank account when she opened her laptop in bed. Mr. Vale’s transfer had come through as promised. She typed furiously, the fans of her laptop screaming as it struggled to stay cool in her lap. It sounded like it was trying to launch itself into low orbit by the time Marian finished paying everyone who needed to be paid. She carved off a pittance for Daniel.

Zero dollars for her.

She’d tried to condition herself over the past few years not to mourn these large sums. Yet every now and then, in moments of weakness, she fantasized about the life that many zeroes could buy her. A vacation? Working appliances would be more responsible. Maybe a one-bedroom apartment. Definitely a TV.

Or she could finally buy a plane ticket back to Washington and do what she really wanted to do—walk into the wilderness of the Olympic Peninsula and never return. She’d build a little cabin in the woods and live out her days foraging and arguing with squirrels or whatever it was hermits did.

She couldn’t think of anything else she wanted, and every time she tried to recall what used to bring her joy, she encountered the same roadblock.

Static.

It made her feel incomplete, but that didn’t matter. Marian had forfeited the right to peace and happiness long ago. She sure as fuck couldn’t afford them, either.

Few things, Marian decided, were quite as demoralizing as being sued—especially by her own supposed family. But Daniel Eaves had never really been family. Even when Marian was a child and he’d just entered her life, he’d insisted that he’d always be “Daniel,” never “Dad.”

Marian shook her head, exorcising her mind of Daniel’s presence as she shoved her laptop away and pulled herself out of bed to quiet her rumbling stomach. She padded past a stack of empty milk crates that once stored things like camping gear and books. Now they were empty, their contents sold or pawned to ensure Marian’s survival.

Sometime after the sun vanished and Marian realized that Monday was fast approaching, she found herself pacing the short distance between her kitchen and sitting area, gnawing on a thumbnail as she weathered her own questions.

What if this plan didn’t work? What if she failed again? She’d never died in such rapid succession before. Mr. Vale warned her to wait, but had she waited long enough? And did she really care to heed his warnings?

She owed him an earful for sneaking a bunch of random clothes in her bag. He’d said no more emails, and while a phone call was out of the question, texting him didn’t seem so daunting after she’d downed a few cans of Pabst.

Yeah. Yeah. Marian rifled through a kitchen drawer until she found his business card.

MARIAN:

WHOSE CLOTHES DID YOU SEND ME HOME WITH?

She glanced at the clock. Eleven thirty pm. The perfect time to ask about this. No way he’d try to call her so late at night.