Page 101 of Hellbound

Marian fell quiet; her thirtieth birthday was two months away. She’d convinced herself a long time ago that she’d never live to see it.

“Does your friend still like pirates as much as she used to?”

The little smile on Tori’s face fell.

“Addie died a couple of years ago. A freak cardiac thing.”

A pang of sympathy speared Marian through the heart.

“Sorry,” she muttered, and meant it.

Tori shook her curly head. “It’s fine—I’m the one who brought her up. I try not to, but this movie always makes her feel closer. And it also makes me miss her like crazy. Almost a year after she died, I’d catch myself spacing out on my drive home from class, taking the exit to her house even though I knew she wasn’t there anymore. Whenever I think about how I’ll never talk to her again or get to dress up like a stupid sexy pirate with her, I can’t breathe.” A trembling breath spilled out of Tori. “Sorry, I have no right to unload this on you, especially not after what I did.”

That made two of them; Marian’s own thoughts proved unreliable, and nothing kept her from thinking about Roman or the Remnant for long. Chaos reigned in her mind, the echoes of violence still deafening. So, when a different memory surfaced—a comment from Tori in the motel moments before Roman arrived—she grabbed onto it and asked the question she’d meant to ask back in Lakewood.

“What’s going on with your mom?”

Tori stilled. “Liver cancer. My mom needed a transplant, but the surgery is so expensive. My family isn’t dirt poor, but we’ve never had much in savings. Mom was a teacher, Dad works at a nonprofit; he’s been a mess since we got the diagnosis. When Verinne promised me buckets of money to use my gift for her, I didn’t think twice about saying ‘yes.’ But the big money didn’t come. I got that job at the café when I couldn’t wait anymore”

Oh.

Marian rubbed the nape of her neck. “Did your mom get the liver?”

“No. She’s on a list,” Tori replied softly. “She and Addie are why I got into this metaphysical stuff. It felt like death was here and there was no escaping it. I bought so many stupid books about mediums, astral projection, everything. I needed to prove that death wasn’t the end of us, that the people we love still exist after they die. That Addie was OK, and that Mom would be too when—if she …” Tori swallowed, her voice suddenly thick. “But like everybody else, I only found Hell.”

Marian wasn’t sure what to do with the sorrow Tori’s words elicited. She couldn’t fathom loving someone that much, or someone loving her enough that they’d cross death to find her.

A long time ago, she thought her mother might have, though Marian had no memories of being loved by her; acts of affection and words of affirmation only came when there was an audience. She never knew her biological father, but judging by her mother’s taste in partners and how she spoke of him, Marian assumed he sucked, too. Even Marian’s romantic relationships had all been brief and mostly physical—nothing she’d call “love.”

But Marian didn’t want to give away more of herself than she already had, so she pursed her lips and made a noncommittal sound in her throat. Silence followed.

Tori shifted in the uncomfortable quiet. “I’m gonna shut up now.”

“It’s cool, dude.”

Neither of them said anything for a while after. The movie faded into background noise as Marian stared at the floor and wondered if she’d ought to have said more. Offered reassurance. Something.

“Are you a Star Wars fan?” Tori asked after a while.

Marian had to dig through her gummed-up thoughts to find the answer.

“Yeah,” she replied, surprised by her own answer. Like she’d just unearthed a part of her that had been missing for years. “Why?”

Tori gave her wide smile. She shifted in her chair to dangle her legs over the armrest, draping herself over the furniture like a drowsy cat. “Thought so. You give off secret nerd vibes. If I survive this, I’m gonna buy you some Star Wars stuff.” She yawned. “Just give me a few months. I’m broke.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Anticipation buzzed in every corner of the house on the day of the gala, but the reality of what they were about to do didn’t sink in until early afternoon when Marian spotted Paul coming out of his room, buttoning the last button of his all-black server’s uniform. The sight of him froze her with dread and turned the handful of saltines in her stomach to boulders.

Paul would arrive ahead of Marian and Tori with the catering crew. He’d scope the place out, float near the entrance hall and alert them when Verinne arrived at check-in. If anything went awry, he’d spirit Marian away, and they’d rendezvous with Vale at the lower parking structure at the Getty Center.

Marian hated the plan. It left little room for anything to go wrong and assumed that Marian and Tori could kill Verinne without attracting attention.

She recalled Roman’s explosive end and had asked Vale how he expected them to make a clean getaway if Verinne’s death went similarly.

“Highly unlikely,” he’d said with ironclad confidence. “Argent bodies are veneers. Tactile illusions.”

It made a horrible sort of sense to Marian, though she still couldn’t wrap her mind around what form they took without those veneers. She supposed that, like Vale had said, they were not beings that her mortal mind could process.