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“Hmm?” I said. I was distracted as I kept my eyes peeled on the world around us.
“My name is Marnie,” she said with a huff.
I didn’t respond. After all, I didn’t need her to tell me her name.
And she didn’t need to know I’d been spying.
9
MARNIE
Less than an hour ago, I had been pissed off. Now, I was still pissed off, but at least back then, I’d been in my own bed.
And worse, I seemed to have traded one grumpy, emotionally distant, and hard-to-deal-with male for another.
Oh, and there was the fact that he seemed to be both one, extremely paranoid and on edge, and two, delusional. The idea that I’d been transported to Hell seemed not only impossible but also laughable. I’d never been religious past the age of thirteen, and I wasn’t about to reshape my entire logical worldview. Hell was impossible. Hell wasn’t real, just like Heaven wasn’t real. If God existed, he was cruel and had a sick sense of humor. School shootings, bone cancer in little kids… yadda yadda. It all amounted to a handful of beans.
Sigh. Maybe I was stuck in a coma, and this was all a very vibrant and convincing dream. I’d probably tripped down my stairs and cracked my head open. And Beck… being Beck… had slept until noon and left me comatose until it was too late to revive me. Maybe this was all the last gasp my brain did before any sort of brain activity stopped for good, except instead of my life flashing before my eyes, it was… him.
I winced as we walked. The ground was sharp against my feet, and I wished I hadn’t ripped Beck’s boots off in such a fit. Although, I’d been right to think they would have just tripped me up more. They were too big on me, and traversing the gritty, rocky trail would have been a pain in the ass. Still, the rocks weren’t exactly being kind to me, and I couldn’t help but hash out my regrets.
At least I was warm enough. His coat smelled like him, which should be totally disgusting, but for a supposed Hell, ghost, demon… thing… whatever… he sorta smelled like a nice, spicy cologne and warm tobacco. Once again, my taste in men was really showing itself to be nice and problematic. I secretly sniffed the collar of the coat as I followed him, not wanting him to catch me inhaling his scent. I made up an excuse in my mind that I just wanted to escape the sulfuric, sour smell in the air.
I looked up at him as we walked, trying to stare without getting caught staring. I had been completely caught off guard by his appearance, but I was starting to get used to it already. It wasn’t gory or scary or anything… just different.
His face wasn’t ugly, at least from what I could tell. When I first saw it, it had been shadowed just right under the tree limbs, and I’d really thought he had an actual skull for a face. Up close, it wasn’t nearly as startling, and in fact, it was sort of cool. I’d never seen such an expertly done makeup job.
The skull-like visage painted over his face seemed expertly done. It was unsettlingly lifelike when certain shadows and light played over his features. I couldn’t exactly blame myself for screaming like I had. The contours of his face were harshly contrasted in black and white, casting deep shadows that accentuated the hollows in his eyes and his gaunt cheeks. He was a pretty skinny guy, but even I could tell his cheeks were meant to be pronounced. He was more wiry than Beck, with a sort of steely strength I could detect in the way he moved. I’d dealt with enough men at the diner to know this guy was scrappy and had probably been in his share of fights.
I think his eyes were the most unsettling part. They blazed with intensity, which was probably emphasized by the deep black circles surrounding them. Even his eyelids were painted completely black. His mouth was startling, too. The individual lines of the painted teeth were done so well it was hard to tell where his actual lips were, and watching him talk was pretty eerie. However, when I really stared at his lips, they weren’t thin or grimacing but full. His nose was aquiline, and his jaw and chin were squared nicely. It seemed like underneath all that face paint was actually a strikingly handsome man. His hair certainly helped solidify the image. It was raven black and slicked back at the temples. He’d used pomade or something on the top, too, but it seemed like the tousled curls up there couldn’t be fully contained. A few unruly locks fell over his forehead. It was charming, even with the general air of creepiness. He could have been an old Hollywood star… and something about him niggled in my brain. I picked and prodded at the tiny thought, like a tongue prodding a loose tooth, but I couldn’t quite place what seemed familiar about him.
“You’re staring,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s rude to stare.”
“Sorry about what I said earlier,” I said awkwardly. “About… about your face.”
“It’s fine,” he said gruffly.
“It’s a really good, um, makeup job?” I said tentatively as I clutched his coat around me and picked up the pace.
The landscape was becoming less rocky and sandy, and something resembling a stone road was beginning to form under our feet. In the near distance, I could see fencing and a large metal gate, along with the peaks and points of buildings. Strains of music reached my ears, and the scent of food grew stronger.
“Not makeup,” he mumbled. I looked up at him and went to ask him to repeat himself, but I tripped over a bit of stone that had begun to unearth itself from the ground. Gabe shot a hand out lightning-quick to steady me, barely pausing his own long strides. His reflex time was impeccable.
“Oof, thanks. Saved me from a skinned knee. What did you say before? About your makeup?” I prodded. I knew I was probably prying, but you try waking up in a different physical plane and maintaining your manners. He’d already pointed out that I was rude twice.
“Not makeup,” he said, louder this time. “It doesn’t come off.”
“So… it’s a tattoo?” I said as I arched one brow. “That’s bold.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked. “No. No… it’s not a tattoo. It’s just there. Keep up, darlin’, we’re in Hell, remember?” He motioned toward his face. “Consider this a punishment.”
I wanted to ask him why he was in Hell, but he’d already scolded me for asking about his face… and staring. I’ll admit, it had been sort of rude of me. As I said, maintaining manners had been the last thing on my mind, but I figured maybe I should tread a little more carefully. The whole situation was pretty fucking stressful, but I still felt bad about hitting him and prying about his looks. I might have been one of Delaney’s troublesome nonconformists, but I’d lived long enough in the small Ohio town to have plenty of Midwest manners. I still didn’t trust the guy, but I had enough problems on my plate. I didn’t need to create another enemy.
“You want to ask,” he said, then offered me a hand to help me over a low stone garden wall that flanked either side of a stone road. He said it in defeat like he’d read my mind.
“Hmm?” I said as I feigned innocence.
“You think I’m lying about the Hell thing, but just in case, you want to know why I’m in Hell, right?” he said perceptively.
