Page 6 of Hellbound

She jerked free from his grasp as she shot him a scathing look. “Well, fucking stop. Please.”

The demon slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and sighed.

“You were so close.”

Marian stood up and skirted past him to shield herself with her chair. What the fuck was she thinking coming here? She wasn’t ready to do this. She’d spent the last three weeks holed up in her apartment talking to shadows and wrestling with dreams that followed her beyond the dawn. Exhaustion and irritation wracked her bones and made her itch to sink her teeth into someone else just to draw blood that wasn’t hers.

“I’m done. Find yourself another diver.”

She whipped around and fled from the billionaire demon like she wasn’t in seven-figure debt.

As if she wasn’t on everyone’s shit list and in dire need of work. As if she didn’t owe the Butcher of Bel Air a literal pound of flesh.

“I know how Elio Ramirez died.”

Mr. Vale’s drawl stopped Marian midstride. “What did you just say?” She turned to find he’d returned to his desk, his expression giving away nothing as he set down an empty glass.

“He was your spotter, wasn’t he?”

“And how would you know anything about that?”

Vale flashed her a polite smile. “I like to keep tabs on the industry. And I happen to be a donor to the hospital where he was admitted.”

Oh, neat. A HIPAA violation.

She hadn’t stopped thinking about Elio since she’d heard the news. But for all her internet sleuthing, she’d found nothing save a brief obituary in the Times. He’d been a licensed EMT. He loved disc golf and played in a garage metal band when he wasn’t bringing Marian back from her drowning deaths.

She’d found his cousin Esteban’s phone number, but he wouldn’t talk to her. Marian couldn’t tell if it was the nature of Elio’s passing that left Esteban too spooked to speak, or of it was the fact that a psycho lady had tracked him down just to ask him how Elio died.

Marian hated not knowing things. It’s what made her such an annoying journalist in her previous life.

“That doesn’t sound like information you intend to give me for free.”

“It’s not.”

“Who’s your source?” Marian wheeled around and marched back behind the armchair.

The demon grinned. “Come now, you know that’s not how this works.”

Marian resisted the urge to claw the furniture.

“Fine. Whatever I find in Hell is yours. In return, I want money and answers.”

Mr. Vale studied her for an uncomfortable moment before he replied. “Very well. But I have a request.”

Marian stood stupefied for a moment as his words registered. Her anger fizzled out swiftly. “A request?”

“Yes.” The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “A key.”

“A key? From Hell?” Marian loosened her grip on the chair and struggled to ignore the flop sweat manifesting despite her newfound resolve. “I can’t track specific objects. I find what I find.”

“And now you will find this key,” Mr. Vale replied with infuriating calm. “I’ve seen it.”

Marian straightened. “You remember Hell?”

The possibility excited her more than she cared to admit. No demon remembered what they’d left behind in Hell, nor the reason for their exile. They all hoped that the artifacts she and other drivers retrieved would spark memories. She’d yet to hear of that happening.

“More of a flash than a memory.”