Page 64 of Hellbound

Hell’s own Mary Poppins was her guest tonight, and he’d brought a carpetbag full of torture with him. She flinched again when he snapped on a pair of latex gloves and tore open a bag of cotton swabs. It looked an awful lot like he’d done this before.

The demon fixed her with an intense, disapproving stare while she glared at his bare forearms.

He dabbed at her skin with a swab that smelled strongly of alcohol. “I’m going to give you a local anesthetic.”

A wave of fear washed over Marian.

“You know what,” she said, her voice jumping up an octave. “I’m good. Let’s just skip to the—aahh.”

She looked down in horror at the syringe he’d plunged into the unbroken flesh above her wound.

“You bitch,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Mr. Vale said nothing as he withdrew the syringe from her arm, set it aside, and picked up a curved needle. The sight of it made Marian forget all the other mean things she was about to say to him.

She swallowed thickly. “Why do you keep medical supplies in the back of your car? And why do you know how to do this?”

“As I’ve said, I’m surrounded by things that can die,” Mr. Vale replied airily as he threaded the needle, his expression giving away nothing as his focus shifted completely to the task before him. “And I was bored in the eighties, so I attended medical school for a few years.”

Marian swallowed as the pain in her arm slowly lost its edge. “Why didn’t you finish?”

“I’d learned enough.” He pushed the hand of her wounded arm into her lap, coaxing her to bend her elbow. “And I’d had my fill of arrogant doctors.”

The moment the metal pierced her skin, her jaw dropped open. Marian slapped her hand over her mouth to smother her groan. It took every ounce of self-control not to fling herself out of his reach. She bit down so hard she heard the scrape of her teeth in her ears.

“Keep still,” he warned.

“It still hurts.”

“It’ll hurt less if you breathe,” he said coldly, clearly preoccupied poking her full of holes. But his stony features relaxed when he looked at her.

How could she breathe when there was no air? Panic gripped her tight around the throat and squeezed as fear rampaged through her. What if he’d lied about what was in the needle? What if he’d drugged her? Was that why she felt like she was about to pass out? Whatever he’d given her had taken the edge off the pain, but she couldn’t tell if that was an effect of the drug or her panic.

Everything in front of her blurred. She was breathing too fast.

“Slow, Meyer. Breathe in on three, out on three.”

His velvet voice wrapped around her. She closed her eyes and obeyed, timing her next breaths. In for three. Out for three. Slowly, panic’s hold on her loosened. The fear ebbed away, and Marian was no longer suffocating. The pain in her arm was real, but it didn’t rule her now.

She opened her eyes.

Mr. Vale worked quickly and methodically, drawing the needle and thread through her skin with deft precision.

“How did you find me?” Marian asked quietly.

“One of my sources informed me that he suspected Stellan’s men abducted someone with a debt to him today. I assumed it was you; that blood wager of yours reeked of him.”

She frowned. “You knew.”

“I did.”

Her frown only deepened.

She wanted to ask him so many questions. About the key, the connection between Stellan and Verinne, and why they were all suddenly gunning for Mr. Vale. She knew demons despised each other. She thought Verinne had been lying about having collaborators.

What she’d seen tonight proved otherwise.

“You want to tell me something,” Mr. Vale rumbled, as though he’d read her mind. “But you won’t. Does it have anything to do with the key?”