Page 96 of Hellbound

They had only trees for neighbors here, the compound nestled in the hills high above the rest of the city. A large yard encircled the house, and Paul assured them they were free to go outside as much as they liked.

They were surrounded by every possible amenity in a house so large and lived-in that Marian couldn’t find it in herself to hate it; inanimate objects were inherently innocent things no matter who they belonged to. The house she’d grown up in had been perfect. Modern. Manicured. Devoid of soul. A prison, not a home.

But there was no point in ruminating about it. In three days, she’d have to do the impossible. And only when Paul informed her that he’d put some clothes together for her did she admit to him that she’d never willingly summoned the knife.

An hour later, Marian stood in a large home gym, her greasy hair tied back from her face. When she’d returned to her room, the armoire was full of clothes. Jeans, blouses, and a pair of leather boots. But nothing Marian would willingly wear.

The spare gym clothes Paul offered, however, were acceptable. They were comically large on her as she tried and failed for the seventh time that afternoon to will the knife into existence, while Paul and Tori looked on.

“Maybe try concentrating less,” Paul called out from the corner of the ground floor gym. Tori sat cross-legged beside him dressed in new clothes Marian assumed Vale had provided, too.

Marian stared down at her empty left palm. Sun poured in through the skylights and sliced across the padded mat in wide beams. The fine black weave of incomprehensible lines on her wrist remained dormant.

“How did you summon it last time?” Tori asked.

Tori had been quiet since the meeting in Vale’s office, barely offering more than a few words. Not that Marian could blame her; she’d be despondent too if Vale had told her family to start planning her funeral.

There were also still bereft of their phones. Marian made a tactical decision to train without protest in the hopes that her compliance might sway him to give her back her only connection to the outside world.

“I didn’t,” Marian replied as she shook out her wrists and blew out a long breath. “It just appeared.”

Because of the Remnant.

Her chest tightened as that memory threatened to resurface.

“What did Vale say about it?” Paul asked as he slid over to a bench press and leaned on the handles, testing the weight.

“Cryptic bullshit,” Marian grumbled. Vale had given her absolutely nothing in the way of useful advice.

“Experiment,” he’d said while looking especially broody seated at his massive desk in his upstairs office. “The knife is part of you; not me. I can no more tell you how to use it than I can tell you how to move your own arm.”

She was proud of herself for about-facing out of his office without knocking over the potted Ficus beside the door; the Ficus deserved better.

Fine. She’d figure it out. Somehow.

Two days.

“I have an idea,” Tori said as she uncrossed her legs and stood up. She shrugged out of her oversized sweatshirt and walked across the mat to Marian. “Fight me.”

Marian frowned. “What?”

Tori shrugged. “You were fighting Roman when it showed up before.”

“I figured that had more to do with the Remnant than the fight.”

Tori held her hands out from her sides. “You got any better ideas? Worst case, we get to blow off some steam, and Lord knows I’m feeling steamy.”

Marian shook her head. “No, but—”

Whumpf.

She was suddenly on her back, pain vibrating down her legs as she tried to piece together what had happened. She blinked up at the ceiling wondering why her spine hurt so much. Tori had dropped so fast and swept a leg out. Marian went down immediately when the traveler kicked her shins.

“Ow,” Marian said to the shocked traveler leaning over her.

“Wow. You did absolutely nothing to stop that.” Tori offered Marian a hand up. Marian took it and hoisted herself to her feet. “And you don’t even have a Hell knife to show for it.”

“That fight was so sad it gave me depression,” Paul yelled from the bench.