Page 16 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“Only things that what?” he goads me. “Come on, Brie. Don’t get shy now.”

The smooth tenor of his voice shoots sparks through me. I ignore them, forcing out the only words that make sense. “You’re a monster hunter.”

“If I was, would you be scared of me?”

I’m already a little scared of him, though probably not in the way I should be.

“I’m not scared of much these days,” I say.

“Just the dark?”

It’s a swift jab, whether he knows it or not. I step back to put distance between us, removing my hand from his chest so I can cross my arms. “What makes you say that?”

“You won’t drive after the sun sets,” he comments. “I’d be a bad colleague if I never noticed.”

He doesn’t ask where the fear comes from and I’m not about to tell him. “Seems like maybe I’m right to be afraid of what’s in the dark.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. The worst of them have no problem walking in the light.”

“So you are a monster hunter.”

He leans back as if the words came out hot and heady, and not in a breathy whisper. “For the record, I’m supposed to be retired.”

A laugh shoots out of me, my suppressed nerves making it too bright. “A retired monster hunter. Forgive me. Is your eight-to-four as a big-time boss so you don’t melt into the couch watching soaps?”

“Big-time boss? You vastly overestimate my role.”

“Answer the question.”

“Believe it or not, monster hunting doesn’t exactly pay the bills. I’m there for the same reason you are—to get a paycheck.”

“Why’d you retire? You’re not exactly pushing sixty.”

“Because it’s dangerous.” His words are a scythe slicing through the autumn air. He takes a deep breath, forcing calm into his tone. “This isn’t a game, Brie. I know how to get to hell because I’ve been there before. I’ve spent my whole life studying the things that lurk there and training to fight them. But everything’s different there. When I tell you to drop this and go about your life, I’m not being kind. I’m being serious. Generous, even. There’s a very real possibility I will not come back, and if I’m right that Krystal is there, her chance of returning grows slimmer by the hour. All you’re doing is holding me up.”

“I don’t think it’s a game,” I say. But I have nothing else. I’ve given every argument I’ve got.

“I’m leaving tonight,” he says with an air of finality. “And you’re not coming with me.”

• • •

When I return to my apartment, it’s hard to believe it’s only early afternoon. I trudge up the three sets of stairs and toss my keys onto the coffee table once I’m inside. A quick glance at my phone shows no new messages from Amelia.

My anger at Luke seeped out on the drive back. Helplessness replaces it, like a blanket wrapping tighter and tighter around me until I can’t breathe. I have to do something. Lying on the couch and rotting isn’t an option anymore.

In the stark light of the afternoon, it’s obvious how far I’ve let the place go. I start in the kitchen, chucking rancid take-out containers out by the handful. By the time I’m done, the fridge looks like it belongs to a college boy living on his own for the first time. Nothing but yogurt and cheese sticks and condiments.

I wipe down the counter surrounding the sink, getting into a groove. Maybe I don’t need to go with Luke and I can help from here. Besides, Luke could be wrong. Maybe this is a normal kidnapping. A serial kidnapping. I’ve listened to enough true-crime podcasts to know that it wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen in a weird small town.

A demon taking sacrifices to hell, on the other hand—

It’s unbelievable. Improbable. Which leads me back to square one, wondering if this is all an elaborate hoax construed by Luke to throw me off his trail as the real perpetrator.

Once the kitchen is cleaner than the day I moved in, I strip the sheets off my unmade bed. I have no idea when I last washed them, but from the way my room has a lingering scent that’s not exactly suppressed by the Bath & Body Works spray I spritz myself with every morning, I know it’s been far too long.

Arms full of linens, I pause, facing the dresser. My top drawer is open. The underwear drawer.

A chill tingles up my spine. I never leave my drawers open.