Page 26 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“You know a lot about hell,” I comment, unable to keep the suspicion from my voice. “Is demon hunting a family lineage thing? Some people get coveted chocolate chip cookie recipes passed down from their ancestors and you got the ability to kick supernatural ass and navigate the underworld?”

Luke shrugs. “Seems much more useful than a cookie recipe.”

“Unless you’re on The Great British Bake Off.”

“Why are the British baking off?” He cocks his head inquisitively.

It makes me laugh. Almost. “Because they’re great. It’s in the title. Anyway. Answer the question.”

“So demanding,” he muses with a smirk. “Yes, it is a family thing. Some inherit their mother’s law firm, others their father’s restaurant. Instead, I got stacks of books about hell and everything in it.”

“That’s depressing.”

“What did you inherit?”

His gaze burns into me, a challenge if I’ve ever seen one.

“My childhood home from my dead parents,” I say bluntly. Guilt slips between my ribs like a knife at the memory of locking up the cozy bungalow the day I left six months ago.

I don’t care to see Luke’s reaction, so my gaze drifts to the bleak walls zooming by. I tuck my fists inside the pockets of my denim jacket, wishing I’d brought something warmer. This train is frigid.

The gray shifts as we emerge from the tunnel. For a disorienting moment, I’m sure we got on the wrong train. The outside doesn’t look much different than what we left in New York. But like everything else with the train, there’s something off.

The stars and moon dot the sky, and I can pick out the main constellations: The Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt. But it’s what’s behind them that stands out.

The sky isn’t navy. It’s a deep, dark violet.

“Is it normal for the sky to be—”

The words die in my throat as I turn to Luke, startling at the person next to me. I whip around to look at the rest of the car. Nearly every seat houses a person with their head tilted down, so I can’t see their faces. The small man beside me is fixated on his lap as unintelligible murmuring spills from his lips. It’d make sense if he was looking at his phone or reading a book, but nothing is there.

“Full train.” Luke’s voice pulls my eyes to meet his. I expect him to mirror my perplexed expression, but he merely lifts a brow.

“Where did all these people come from?” I whisper. Even with my voice as low as possible, I’m sure the man beside me can hear. He doesn’t register it, though.

“They got on with us,” Luke says. “Before us, technically, since we almost didn’t make it.”

“I would have had to climb over him to get to my seat.” I tip my head toward the man. “This car was empty.”

“Was it?” Luke asks, like I’m a student and he would love nothing more than to see me arrive at the conclusion on my own.

He patiently waits as I slot the pieces together. “They were on the platform, weren’t they?” I recall what Esmar said about us cutting in line. “I couldn’t see them. Why?”

“We were in the overworld. Like with the staircase leading down to the lower platform, you have to know what to look for.”

“But you could see them?”

“I’ve had more practice looking.”

“What’s different about now?” I know the answer, but I need to hear him say it.

He obliges. “We’re not in the overworld anymore. Welcome to hell.”

I nod, the motion as mechanical as the air I’m forcing in and out of my lungs. I signed up for this. I asked Luke to take me with him. What did I expect? That he was lying?

Perhaps a sliver of me hoped it was all an elaborate hoax, or one of the many nightmares I’d wake up from slick with sweat but safe, nonetheless.

This is a nightmare, but not the sleeping kind.