Page 83 of Hellbound

Nothing she saw when her eyes flew open made any sense, either. She was sprawled out on someone’s bed, staring at a ceiling fan as it spun lazily overhead. A familiar face hovered out of the corner of her eye, his brow wrinkled in concentration as he secured a silver handcuff to part of the headboard. Thin red welts marred his patchy black stubble.

The cobwebs at the edges of Marian’s vision dissolved. She knew this asshole.

Paul Choi, the Annex bartender, was about to cuff her to the bed.

A violent burst of adrenaline gave her the strength she’d been missing since Roman’s murder. Every movement was utter torment, but her need to escape dampened the pain.

Luck more than skill guided her as she delivered a graceless kick to his stomach; he reeled backward into the bedside table. Something out of sight shattered as Marian clumsily rolled out of his reach off the bed and hobbled out the open door.

Loud cursing behind her spurred her on. Faster.

She barely made it a few steps into the unfamiliar hallway when the world pitched sharply sideways. Her feet tangled together, sending her teetering into a long console table. She was suddenly surrounded by dark floral wallpaper. Pale pink begonias melted into a darkness that stretched on forever if her eyes were to be trusted.

A thousand needles rained down on her skin. A strangled scream ripped out of her with each wave of pain. She was fighting herself just as much as she was fighting to get away.

Where even was she?

A wide mirror framed in knotted gold hung on the opposite wall. Chest heaving with the effort to remain upright, Marian looked to the left and found her reflection. But the woman looking back couldn’t have been her.

It was a monster.

Half bony, bloodless flesh, half creature of black ichor, she was covered in bulging, venous ridges that throbbed in time with her frantic heartbeat. That thick, foul ooze had enveloped half her face; what of her hadn’t been tarnished by it was riddled with black, writhing veins.

The one gray eye that hadn’t been consumed by darkness leaked a steady stream of watery black sludge.

More than ever, she hoped her eyes had failed. That this was a nightmare she’d escape.

She pawed at her cheek, her breath coming shallow and sharp. Her nails sank into the wet black surface. She scraped and clawed, digging desperately to find herself. But her fingers found only bone. Her raspy breaths turned to high-pitched whimpers as she dug until her bare jawbone emerged from the black.

Everything smelled so strongly of smoldering rubber.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god,” she cried.

The Remnant. It’s taking me.

Marian screamed and groped at the console table, her knees buckling. But her equilibrium was gone. The table collapsed with her, its contents crashing to the floor.

A single stone bell rolled into her rapidly shrinking field of vision.

Horror splintered through her as she realized she knew exactly where she was.

“No,” Marian rasped as she clawed at the hardwood floor. Her fingers slipped, finding no purchase through the ichor. Wave after wave of bone-breaking spasms assaulted her. “No, no no no.”

Hasty footsteps heralded the bartender’s arrival. He dropped to a knee beside her, his face locked in a wince. “Aw, fuck. That can’t be good.”

A second set of slower, measured footsteps manifested in the distance. A pillar of darkness stepped into view.

Paul looked over his shoulder. “You didn’t tell me she was going to turn into Venom.”

“There’s a great deal I don’t tell you,” said a dry, steely voice. “And yet I’m subjected to your witless commentary about it all the same.”

Then came the sound of what must have been a herd of elephants stampeding upstairs, followed by a muffled crash.

The shadow sighed. “Deal with the traveler.”

Marian had barely risen to her knees when a towering figure descended on her in a flutter of shadow and smoke.

Vale knelt in front of her, his face a dispassionate mask.