Page 57 of Hellbound

Marian’s heart fluttered as she glanced down, her eyes scanning over the receipt. There at the top was the address of the bookstore in Lakewood, a time stamp dating back several months, and a name.

Tori Lawson.

Marian could work with that. She slipped the receipt behind the front cover and closed the book. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”

“If it’s not too weird,” Abe said as he rubbed his shoulder, looking self-conscious. “Would you text me if you happen to see her? I’ll give you my number. I messaged her earlier and never heard back.” Abe fished his phone out of his pocket and tapped at it before turning it to Marian.

Marian chewed on the inside of her cheek. She supposed there wasn’t any harm in it. The kid seemed benign and genuinely concerned.

“Sure,” Marian replied as she saved the number to her phone.

“I’m sure something must have come up,” Abe said. “I know she has some family stuff going on.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she’s fine.” Marian offered a thin smile. She tried to sound sympathetic; she really did. But all she could think about was that Tori Lawson had played them all for fools.

WELCOME TO HELL > DEMONS Any Leads?

singhDiver—ComptonHow many demons are there, anyway?I heard Europa’s bankrupt or something. The Tiernan Group had her bigass house in Malibu repossessed, so she’s not hiring. Preeti’s been quiet since someone bbq’ed Roy, Mikhail’s busy with his fight club or whatever, and Miles isn’t paying divers what he used to.That leaves the Butcher … but fuck. I don’t know if I have the stomach to make a deal with Stellan Blacke. Anyone got any other leads? Don’t say Vale; that fucker had security kick me out before I even made it through the lobby.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

To Marian’s chagrin, Tori Lawson didn’t exist on any social media platform, and her broader searches turned up nothing, which meant the traveler didn’t have much of a detectable online presence, or she was damn good at hiding it. But Marian did have A Page Apart, the name of the bookstore on Tori’s receipt, which was only a short bus ride from the Evergreen. Once there, Marian started questioning the staff, but none of them remembered seeing anyone matching Tori’s description. So Marian left in a shit mood and without a lead.

Her phone buzzed a few times in her pocket. Calls went ignored. She checked them on the first bus. Verinne had left another voicemail.

“Hey girlie! Me again. No presh’ about my offer, but I wanted to invite you to Avalon with me and a few of the NuSense members; I think they’ll love your energy. It’s going to be so chill.”

How did she make “chill” sound like “chull?”

“Mimosas, vegan brunch, massages. Thought we could get to know each other a bit, give you an idea who you’d be working for if you decide to go that route. Think about it.”

A girls trip with a demon? What a horrible idea. And clearly an attempt to curry favor. But Marian didn’t have what Verinne wanted anymore, so she deleted the voicemail and promised herself she’d put that situation to bed once she got home.

The trek back to her neighborhood was long and expensive for public transit; by the time Marian got off the last bus in North Hollywood, she was nearly dead on her feet. Her mind was abuzz with unhelpful thoughts and self-loathing. She hated herself for being so open with Tori about her experience with the Remnant. She’d given a piece of herself to a stranger that she couldn’t take back, and she’d forgotten how … vulnerable that made her. And how much she despised that feeling.

She could revisit the normie job market and let Daniel garnish her wages into oblivion, assuming Marian could pass a background check these days. Knowing Daniel, he’d find a way to get her blacklisted from every fast-food chain in North America. For a man who wanted millions of dollars from her, he seemed determined to keep her from paying her penance. Marian was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t see the black SUV drive up alongside her until it swerved sharply into her path, pulling onto the curb as it blocked the road she needed to cross. She nearly collided with the broad side of the car and blinked at her wide-eyed reflection in the tinted windows.

The front passenger door opened, and a tall, lean man in a black blazer stepped out. The driver’s side opened a half second later to reveal a short, stocky bald man wearing a teal shirt. Marian recognized neither of them, but she knew who owned that Escalade.

The Butcher.

Black Blazer quickly strode around the front of the car toward her.

“Hey, champ,” the stocky one asked as he swooped in to flank her. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Oh no.

She tried to run, but a large hand closed over her shoulder and all but threw her into Shorty’s chest. Thick arms wrapped around her waist. Marian dug her blunted nails into the meaty wrist pressing against her rib cage, but all that got her was an annoyed grunt from the bulldog of a man wrestling her toward the car. She lashed out with her other hand and jabbed him in the eye.

Shorty yelped and released her. Marian turned around, ready to deliver a swift kick to his balls, but a fiery jab in her shoulder sent her teetering sideways. Marian didn’t make a sound even as her brain screamed pain, pain, pain. She had to stay upright no matter how wrong she felt. Had to run.

Shorty was suddenly in front of her. Marian registered his ugly face, features scrunched in annoyance as a red rivulet trickled down his cheek. A bloody switchblade glinted in his hand.

Strength she’d not felt in ages surged through her even as her limbs went numb. She let loose the terrified thing trapped in her breast.

Run.

She thought she’d succeeded in escaping when she jumped and no longer felt pavement underneath her. She was airborne, alright. In all the wrong ways.