Page 48 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“I appreciate it,” I say carefully, as thanking a demon—if that’s what Hazaar is—seems like something Luke would warn me against. “And hope I won’t need to use either.”

“Hope,” he muses. “Such an overworld thing to do.”

He reaches into the pocket of his apron and scoops out a handful of tiny jars no bigger than the tip of my thumb with corks just as small. A blue glow emanates from inside. “I’d advise you to count them, but I’m not sure it’s in your best interest to take the time. Dawn approaches.”

“Dawn?” Surely, I haven’t been at the Night Market that long? But Luke did say time worked differently here. I have to find him and get out before it’s too late.

Hazaar dumps handfuls of tiny jars into Luke’s backpack. There’s a separate pocket near the top with slots for pens. I tuck in the vials, wishing I had more to protect them.

“Some of these are my best souls, so tell your Luke he better mind his next trades,” Hazaar advises. “Good workers, they are.”

“The souls inside the jars are…actual souls?”

Luke did call them soul jars, but it’s unbelievable that the same beings on the train get condensed into such tiny, obscure forms.

“Oh, sure.” Hazaar continues digging in his apron for more jars. “They’re our main currency. You can either keep them in the jars to trade or release them to do your bidding. But make sure the task at hand is ready. If you release them with nothing for them to do, they’ll dissipate and be free to finally rest. That’s good money you’d be wasting. Really screws up the economy, too.”

Regardless of whatever horrible things the souls once did to get damned here, it sours my stomach to think of them being used for all eternity. Before I can do something stupid, like smash a handful of jars on the cobblestones, I zip the backpack closed.

“Pleasure doing business,” I say, hoisting up the significantly lighter backpack.

Hazaar smiles, but his unseeing eyes make it chilling. “The pleasure is all mine.”

I’m one foot out of the tent when my nose collides with its second chest of the night.

“You’re here.” Luke sounds impressed to see me, which is both gratifying and insulting.

“I was starting to think you ditched me,” I lie to cover the very real fear that’s been worming at the back of my mind—that the ghosts got him.

“I had to take care of the spirits and then I ran into some…other trouble,” he says.

“That trouble is back,” Hazaar interrupts, holding up a finger to signal silence. Outside the tent, footsteps thunder past, accompanied by the unmistakable gruff growl of Denim’s voice.

“He went this way!”

Luke and I only relax once the footsteps outside fade, replaced by the faraway whispers of music, the crackling fires beneath the cauldrons, and the bubbling liquids within.

“They’re gone,” Hazaar says, turning his back to us to stir the green liquid. Fatality. “I remember you.”

Beside me, Luke bristles. “Oh?”

“Your voice,” Hazaar says, continuing his stirring methods. “Your scent.” He brings the spoon so close to his mouth that I suck in a breath, sure it’s going to touch his lips. Instead, he inhales deeply, smiling at whatever the aroma is. With so many fragrances battling for dominance inside the small space, it’s hard to tell what might be what. “Your air.”

“Then you know I’m a friend,” Luke says. “Dawn approaches and we need to leave.”

“You do,” Hazaar agrees. “The hourglass is about to flip.”

Sixteen

“What kind of cryptic shit was that?” I ask Luke.

“I’ll tell you when we’re out of here.” Luke takes a turn so sharp my struggling feet stumble beneath me. Seeing me nearly eat shit, he slings the duffel from my shoulder to his in a fluid motion. “We have minutes, maybe seconds before dawn. If we don’t make it—”

He stops and I ram right into his back. Any normal person would topple over, but Luke barely budges. “Why did you—”

“Looks like you’re in a rush,” a voice taunts. I peek from behind Luke—and wish I hadn’t. Denim stands in all his hairy, hell hound glory, and he’s flanked by four beings of similar muscly stature. They bare their teeth like the mutts they are.

Luke procures his obsidian blade. I follow suit.