Page 37 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“I’ve spent the past six hours telling you about all the hell beings here.”

“With very long stretches of silence in between,” I remind him, though our conversation has been helpful. While not every hell being fits into a category, per se, I did my best to explain to Luke some of the ones I saw on the train. Those with green skin and pointed ears are usually goblins if they’re small, or redcaps if they’re large, which are basically extra violent and murderous goblins. Either way, they eat anything and everything, including me. Monsters with blue skin typically are cold-blooded and belong to a reptilian genus. Demons are either composed of shadows and darkness and decay, or take on a human form, like Melinda. Vampires and werewolves also are easy to mistake for humans, but are good at minding their own business. Luke reiterated that staying away from large bodies of water is a must, as water demons and sirens can coax you to drown. Which, I pointed out, sounds a lot like mermaids are real. He rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it.

“Besides, aren’t you hungry?” I ask.

He hesitates. “A bit.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, I haven’t eaten in nearly a day, so a bit doesn’t even cover it for me.”

“Fine,” he relents. “But diners here have some…stipulations.”

• • •

Inside, the stipulations Luke warned of are 1,000 percent clear: the menu is chaotic at best, stomach-turning at worst. There are normal items, like burgers and fries and milkshakes, and then there are very not-normal items, like goat hearts and woodland finches and a glass of mortal’s tears. I try not to think too hard about where they get that last one and if they might be in the market for more.

The clientele is less surprising. While a corner booth adjacent to ours hosts a very mean-looking fang-toothed being, the few other patrons around the diner seem normal.

“Stop staring.” Luke taps my menu to redirect my attention. “You’re going to give us away.”

“It looks like there are other humans here,” I observe quietly, looking at the dessert special. Spleen pie. Great.

“Human-appearing,” he corrects. “And there’s a possibility we might run into actual humans. Ones who make deals with demons or nail a satanic ritual end up here. The longer they’re here, of course, the less human they become. But they start that way at least, so we’re not entirely alone.”

“And monster hunters come here, I presume?” I prod.

“Only if they have to.” He peers out the grime-covered window. “And most don’t come back.”

“You did.”

His eyes latch onto mine. “I got lucky.”

The itch to know more burrows under my skin, but a petite woman who could pass as human at first glance comes up to our booth. On second glance, the strange, wrinkled texture of her pale skin, like dried paper that was previously soaked in water, makes me think not.

“What can I get ya?”

Her voice is low, with a raspy edge. She wears straight jeans and a button-down black shirt that slips off one shoulder. Dirty bare feet stick out beneath the frayed hems of her pants.

“A burger, rare, and fries,” Luke says, handing her the menu. “And tea, if you have it.”

I scrunch my nose up but don’t comment. “I’ll have chocolate chip pancakes. Full stack. And coffee, black. Thanks.”

She nods, taking my menu and retreating to the kitchen. Luke quirks a brow at me. “Chocolate chip pancakes? Really?”

“The menu says breakfast all day.” I shrug. “I’m in the mood for something sweet. Any meal could be my last, you know.”

He cuts me a glare, glancing beyond our booth to make sure the other patrons didn’t hear that. “Watch it.”

“What is she?” I ask, nodding at our server.

“Likely a minor demon or a young hag.”

“And what is all this?”

“All what?”

“The diner. The train. The clothes.”

“Did you think everyone walked around naked all day in hell?”