Page 50 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“You terrify me,” he admits. The words send a shiver down my sweat-soaked back.

“Was watching me headbutt a monster not on today’s agenda?”

His laugh catches in his throat. “Definitely not.”

He’s not pushing me off, and I would get off myself, I would, but I can’t remember the mechanics of moving my limbs. Besides, his hand is on my back, warm and weirdly comforting, keeping me in place.

“I bet you really regret bringing me now, huh?” I joke weakly.

A frown creases his brow. “Not yet.”

“Jury’s still out.” My words sound light, but between our proximity and the heat between us, the feeling is everything but. Especially when I shyly question, “Why did you let me come, anyway?”

“I think something’s wrong with the veil separating the worlds, which is how Beliar got into the overworld to begin with. If that’s true, then he can probably get back. And if I’m here, and you’re there, then—”

He breaks off, gaze sticking on my lips.

“Then what?” I prod.

“Then I can’t protect you if we’re worlds apart.”

My sharp intake of breath is masked by his chuckle and my whole body rumbles with the movement. His thumb ghosts over what might be the imprint of Badulf’s nose in my forehead. A great souvenir that fucking hurts. “Not that you need my protection, clearly.”

His words have left my own mushed up on my tongue like chewed-up food. To my dismay, his hands gently shift me off him and onto the dirt. He grabs my duffel from where he dropped it. Rifling through it, he adds, “I also let you come because I figured Krystal might want a friend. I don’t know what conditions Beliar is keeping her in, but I can guess they’re nothing good. She’ll need you.”

She’ll need you. I haven’t been needed in a long time.

To get past the lump growing in my throat, I ask, “What are you looking for?”

“Water.”

“I could use some water,” I agree as he finds it. I finally push myself up with a wince. My cut knee stings like a bitch.

Luke proceeds to dump the entire remains of my bottle onto my face, soaking me in seconds. “Um, excuse you?”

“We need to wash the hound’s blood off before it burns you badly. It’s ichor. Demon blood.”

He wipes my face with the hem of his shirt, which is hot in theory since I’m nearly eye level with his crotch. Tilting my chin up to the sky, he uses his thumb to rub the remaining ichor off with a level of care that grants him a much-improved bedside manner report.

“Isn’t that hurting you?” I ask.

“I’m used to it,” he replies, brows creased in concentration. “And sorry for giving no warning. I didn’t want it to sit on your skin and scar.”

I touch my face, feeling how sensitive the skin is where the ichor was on it. “Thanks,” I say, though my voice sounds hollow as I stare up at him, and he stares down at me. His gaze burns with an intensity that makes me clear my throat, averting my own eyes to the ground. Something shimmers within reach. “Oh, hey. Your dagger.”

Picking it up, I stand and hold it out to him. “Trade ya?”

He pulls mine from where he tucked it in his belt and hands it to me, taking his. They’re identical, so it’s a silly swap, but somehow feels necessary.

“I think you broke Badulf’s nose,” Luke commends with a proud grin. Breathing is suddenly harder than it was a minute ago. He grabs the backpack and my duffel. I don’t bother arguing with him over carrying it, because I’m too fucking tired to be a feminist at the moment.

“Maybe it will make him look more attractive.” I match his pace. “You know, give him the whole ‘rugged bad guy’ look.”

Luke laughs, the sound clear as the morning sky. “As if he needs any more bad guy in him.”

My soft chuckle joins, but it dies as the tornado we just survived catches up with me. “What was that with all the wind?” I ask him.

“It’s known as The Reckoning, when all the slain monsters and demons sent to the abyss with obsidian and exorcisms rise again. Usually with a penchant for vengeance.”