Page 51 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“Got that part,” I retort. A hopeless thought hits. “Does that mean Beliar is back? Since you stabbed him with the dagger, he would have been in the…”

“Abyss.”

“Right. Which is just the clouds, from what I gather. But now he’s not?”

Luke’s lips press together. “Unfortunately. Hopefully he’s only back in the underworld, though, not the overworld.”

Hopefully isn’t very reassuring. “One of the market vendors said that the Reckonings are happening more often. That’s bad, I take it?”

“Very. They used to only happen during lunar eclipses every ten or so years. The last lunar eclipse happened almost a year ago and it sounds like there’s been multiple Reckonings since.”

“Another lunar eclipse is happening on Sunday,” I tell him, remembering what the pickled hooves vendor said. “A big one, apparently, that’s going to result in a super bloody blue moon.”

Luke glances at me with amusement. “A super blue-blood moon?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “I was in med school, not an astrophysicist.”

“Beliar is going to make his sacrifices then to—”

“Weaken the already weak veil?” I finish for Luke. “Pickled Hooves thinks so, too.”

Luke scrunches his nose in confusion. Like in the diner, it’s adorable, and I’m disgusted by that thought. Nothing about him should strike me as adorable.

“Do I even want to know who Pickled Hooves is and how you know them?”

I wave him off. “You had your Night Market detours and I had mine. All that matters is the timeline. Can we get to Death Valley by Saturday on a motorcycle?”

“Don’t have to.” Luke pulls a ring of keys from his pocket, clicking the unlock button. He turns me to face the field to our right. In the tall grass is a lone rusted minivan. It’s impossible to tell what color it used to be, or even the make. The windshield is cracked and only one headlight blinks on.

As if anticipating my displeasure, Luke so helpfully points out, “You’re the one who didn’t like the motorcycle.”

“You couldn’t have found anything better than this piece of shit?”

“It’s a piece of shit that runs and has seats and might even have intermittent air-conditioning if you talk to it real nice instead of insulting it.” Luke jerks open the back door, which shrieks with the movement. He tosses my bag in and adds his more carefully since it’s full of the soul jars. We’re closest to my door, which he opens for me, raising a brow. “Now say thank you and get in.”

“Thank you,” I say, overemphasizing the words. It is better than a motorcycle, and likely safer, though not by much. I guess I’d rather die crushed in a soccer-mom death trap than skidding down the highway like a skipping stone.

Luke slides behind the wheel, adjusting his seat and lone side mirror since the one on my side is gone. Sticking the key in the ignition, the van chugs to life before lulling to a dull rumble that has me nearly certain it’s missing a catalytic converter. I’m guessing they don’t care much about emissions and the ozone in hell.

“Here.” Luke wiggles the map from his back pocket and hands it to me as he turns out of the field. “I shouldn’t need directions, but keep your eyes on it just in case.”

“We’re heading straight to Death Valley?”

Luke nods. “It should take a little over twenty-four hours once we pick up Route 666 in what we know as Chicago.”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

He side-eyes me. “Why would I be joking?”

“Route 666? Really? It’s Route 66 and you know it.”

His lips quirk into a light grin. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t help the smile peeking through. “How long until we get to Chicago?”

“A few hours. We’ll stop for lunch, stock up on food, water, and fuel, then keep going.”

I nod, satisfied with that game plan. Leaning back into the surprisingly cushy seat, all my aches and pains hit at once. Aside from my throbbing knee, my inner thighs feel like they’re on fire, my loose jeans protecting me from the worst of the chafing but not all of it. Shallow cuts I don’t remember getting mar my exposed skin. I flip the mirror down and gasp at my face.