Page 102 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

The worst hits are with fists while shouting things like “You sent me to the fucking overworld without even a toothbrush” (Luke) and “You never wrote down a single fucking password, fuck you” (Dante). I know I should do something like help Luke or make a run for it, but it’s such a bizarrely mesmerizing fight that I’m just grateful for the beat to regroup.

The beat ends when Dante finally lands a kick that sends Luke reeling back onto the table. His dagger clatters across the length of it, falling off the opposite edge to the ground.

I dive for it.

Luke rolls off the table, falling onto the assortment of chairs that scoot out from under him, thanks to their wheels. From the ground, he sweeps Dante’s feet out from under him.

“Luke! Catch!”

I toss the dagger to Luke as he leaps to his feet. It spins through the air in an arc, the most impressive show of sportsmanship I’ve ever produced, before landing in Luke’s palm like a loaf perfectly placed in the bread basket. His elbow connects with Dante’s mouth, sending a spray of blood onto the table. Giving his brother no time to rebound, Luke copies my move by taking a fistful of Dante’s hair and jerking his head back to bare his neck, pressing the edge of his blade against the skin.

The fight comes to a sudden halt.

“Drop it,” Luke orders. The sound of Dante’s dagger hitting the ground rings with finality.

“Kill me,” Dante dares. “There were only ever two endings for us. For all humans in hell. You either get killed by the monsters you’re running from, or you become them. Do it.”

Luke’s jaw works as his teeth grind. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

“I can’t.” Dante laughs, as if he knows his fate is sealed.

Lightning makes the room glow, illuminating the red splattered across the table matching the blood smeared across his teeth. I jump as thunder cracks the air. Luke stares at Dante’s blood.

“The clock’s ticking,” Dante taunts. “Maybe Beliar’s sacrifice would have been moot. If the veil is weak enough, all it will need is The Reckoning with the super blue-blood moon to make it rip wide open. Shall we test that theory? Wait and see?”

“I should kill you,” Luke agrees. Dante’s pupils shrink a fraction, revealing more of his green irises as Luke presses the dagger harder into his skin. He’s afraid. I brace myself for Luke to drag the blade across his brother’s throat.

Instead, he slams Dante’s face into the table, knocking him out so he crumbles to the ground.

“Let’s go,” Luke tells me, retrieving the second dagger from where it fell and placing it in my palm. “There’s still time to fix the veil.”

I glance back at Dante’s still form, tempted to tell Luke that whenever the bad guy is left alive in the movies, it’s almost always a fateful error on the hero’s part. But as a member of the only-child club, I don’t feel qualified to advise him to off his only brother, even if Dante is kind of a dick.

Outside the conference room, we stall in what’s clearly a reception area with an elevator at the other end. A semicircular desk is pressed to the wall with a gold placard atop it. A girl sits behind the desk in a lacy green dress. Her fingers fly across her keyboard as if wrapping up a few last-minute emails before joining the party downstairs.

“Hey!” she yelps, jumping to her feet and reaching for the corded phone on her desk as if to call for backup. “What are you—”

Luke’s dagger is embedded in her chest before she can finish the sentence. Her mouth parts on a gasp and for an awful moment, I think she might be human. But then she’s swallowed by shadows, disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

Luke punches the down button for the elevator. It dings and we step inside. Luke presses the button for the very bottom floor.

The entire elevator is tinted glass. We begin our descent and awkward elevator music fills the air, as if this night wasn’t already horrendous enough.

“I’ve always wanted to press the emergency stop button,” I say to break the silence. “But never so much as right now.”

A laugh scrapes out of him. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

My cheeks warm at the implication that we could recreate our morning in the bathroom if only the fate of the worlds didn’t hang in the balance. Talk about a cock block.

“I forgive you,” I blurt out. Luke’s head jerks to me, but I can’t meet his eyes. “For keeping the fact that you were the devil, past tense, a secret. I’m not sure I would have told me, either.”

The view opens up as we soar down through the lobby. Below us, the party raves on. Nobody cleaned up the mess I made when I fell and now people gyrate on the table like it’s a makeshift stage, spinning under the glow of the serpent chandelier.

“You don’t have to,” Luke finally says, though his voice rings with hope. “I don’t deserve it.”

I force myself to look in his eyes. “This isn’t for you. It’s for me. I’m sick of living with regrets. Whatever’s about to happen, however this ends, I don’t want it to be with us at odds. We’re a team, right? Teams forgive each other.”

One second I’m beside him and the next I’m crushed in his arms. His hand gently cradles the back of my head and I release a shuddering breath against the soft skin of his collarbone, relishing the feel of being pressed against him. My own arms wind around his waist, the hug so comforting I can almost con myself into thinking we’re anywhere but here. We tremble together, clinging tightly as we’re plunged underground.