Page 7 of Hellbound

“A flash.” Marian repeated as the thrill fizzled out.

She had no idea how she was going to find a single key in the sweeping halls of Hell, but that wasn’t grounds for her to back out. She’d recruit Greg and split the payment as agreed. “Fine. But I need a week to find a new spotter and—”

“No,” The demon said as he turned around. “This time, I will kill you myself.”

CHAPTER TWO

Trepidation replaced the flare of anger in Marian’s belly.

“And why the fuck—” she licked her chapped lips. “—would you want to do that?”

“Because I’d like to see for myself how good you are at dying.” The demon’s smile widened as he flung Marian’s words back at her.

Her inner voices screamed in protest. Marian’s boundaries dictated that only Marian was allowed to kill Marian.

“You’re kidding, right?” Marian said as Mr. Vale returned to the bar and refilled his whiskey.

“I’m dead serious. No pun intended.”

The pun made her want to throw up on the spot. “Then you’re insane.”

Mr. Vale rolled his eyes dramatically. “Do you really think I’d suggest killing you if I didn’t have the utmost confidence in my ability to bring you back? I’m aware of the dwindling diver population, Meyer, and I have no intention of contributing to the decline.” His gaze raked over her from head to toe. “And I suspect I’ll take far better care of your body than you do.”

Marian’s cheeks burned bright red. “Phrasing.”

He grinned. “I said what I said.”

“I’ve never let anyone kill me before,” she replied, her voice too quiet and uncertain for her liking. She never even let Elio kill her; he only tied her to the anchor that would drown her and pushed it into the pool on her command. “Again, why? And ‘to spite you’ is not an acceptable answer.”

The demon arched a dark brow. “I theorize that if I’m the one to kill you, you might see what I see.”

“The flash. Right.” Marian waved a trembling hand at the shelf of artifacts. “You guys have been stuck on Earth for—what, two hundred years?”

“Three hundred.”

“And now you finally get a flash from an artifact? After all this time?

“If by ‘all this time,’ you mean ‘the past twenty or so years,’ yes.” The look he gave her was equal parts wry and condescending.

Marian bit back a snarl as the discomfort of her own error rolled over her. Demons had been around for centuries, but Hell-diving was a relatively new practice made possible by modern medicine and the advent of the internet. At last, those who’d died and gone to Hell could connect with the demons willing to pay a small fortune to send them back.

Mr. Vale cast a cursory glance at his collection of otherworldly antiquities. He remained the very picture of casual elegance as he leaned against the bar, nursing a whiskey and looking at Marian like he hadn’t just told her he wanted to kill her. And then there was Marian with the single stale cinnamon Pop-Tart churning in her gut as she seriously considered letting him.

But good sense won out. “No fucking way.”

Mr. Vale’s gaze turned flinty. “There’s always a number.”

Fury detonated inside her again with unexpected force. She jabbed a finger toward him. “You want the one thing I can control in all this, and that’s not for sale.”

Marian regretted the outburst as she saw the devious look flash across the demon’s face. As if she’d shown him a piece of herself she ought to have kept hidden away.

A grim little voice chided her.

You have no choice. You’re broke, and you swore to Greg you’d do this. Stellan is going to find you eventually and show you why they call him the Butcher of Bel Air. And you haven’t paid Daniel in—

She stamped out the thought of her stepfather, who she also owed mountains of money. But Daniel Eaves wasn’t a demon threatening her with dismemberment. She wasn’t sure where her debt to him ranked on her list of priorities today.

“Let me make you an offer,” Mr. Vale said evenly.