Page 107 of Hellbound

Tori’s sculpted brows shot up to her hairline.

“That’s … horrible. Were you some kind of debutante?”

Marian shook her head. “I just had rich, social climbing parents.”

And I was their costly accessory.

“What was that like? I thought my family was fancy when my parents took us on a road trip to Tahoe one summer. Meanwhile, my classmates were flying off to Cabo every spring break.”

Marian pursed her lips. Everything that came to mind seemed so trite; she couldn’t commiserate, but she also wasn’t about to tell Tori she’d never been allowed on vacation with her parents.

She shoved her hands into the lined pockets of the trousers that were likely worth more than her life and looked elsewhere. “That sucks.”

“OK, party expert. What’s the play? Do we mingle? Make small talk? I can’t stand here all night waiting for Verinne to walk in and bite my head off.”

Marian snorted as she glanced up at the crowd to reconfirm her suspicions. A sea of tanned, manicured bodies clad in designer brands filled the exhibit hall with dull chatter. An occasional rehearsed laugh broke through the thrum.

“Fancy gala rule number one: don’t talk to anyone except the staff. The guests are a whole different kind of rich. If you strike up a conversation with one of them, you’ll wish you’d walked into the ocean instead.”

“Fine. Then you and I are going to chat,” Tori replied. “Are you from California originally?”

Marian’s features twisted in distaste. Tori let out a soft laugh.

“I’ve never seen anyone physically recoil from that question before.”

“I don’t like talking about myself.”

“Well, too bad, because that’s how small talk works,” Tori said as she nudged Marian with an elbow. “I’ll go first. I grew up in West Covina. We moved when my grandma passed away and left us a house in Long Beach.”

Marian rubbed her chin as she eyed the crowd. The knot of resistance in her chest loosened. Maybe it was the champagne.

“I’m from Tacoma.”

“Where’s that? Bay area?”

Marian shook her head. “Washington state.”

Tori brightened. “Really? I dated a girl from Washington. Why did you leave?”

Daniel. He came along and promised her mother a glamorous life in California, and there was nothing young Marian could do about it. They took her away from her home, the place where … where …

Static.

Marian’s brow furrowed as she grasped for the thread trailing from a thought she couldn’t reel in. Stretches of time, gone—replaced by a long ellipses. Perhaps Hell had taken those memories, too.

As if summoned by the thought, pain cleaved Marian between the eyes and sent her falling through—

“Hey, hey, hey, breathe,” Tori’s concerned voice shredded through the dark shroud that enveloped her without warning. The traveler’s hand on her chest kept her from doubling over. “Are you OK?”

Marian straightened as she registered the surrounding reality. The sound of conversation and lively music swept over her again. A few curious eyes fell on her, then wandered away.

When her gaze flitted back to Tori and her worried face, she breathed a little easier.

But the gut-wrenching discomfort didn’t go away. All at once, it shifted into a sensation that made her want to claw free of her own skin. It wormed its way through her bones and sinew, riddling her with displeasure so intense, she feared she’d never know anything else.

Her blood ran cold as recognition slammed into her.

“Stellan,” Marian croaked.