Page 53 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“Oh, you’re not?”

“No, I was. You just shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” The corner of his mouth twitches in a grin. I whack his arm and he continues, gaze glued on the endless road and lilac sky. “The man offered my mother a deal. She wanted healthy babies so she wouldn’t have to live without them, and they wouldn’t have to live without her. He said she could get that. For a price.”

“Why would she pay it?”

“Do you ever order something online and when you get it, it’s nothing like it was in the picture? That’s how demon deals are. You think you’re the one getting a steal. That they’re the idiots. But that’s how they work. He promised her the opportunity to have healthy babies so they could all be together. Hopeless and alone, she agreed to the deal. But when she went to sleep that night, he came for her. She woke up on the train to hell.”

“And the babies?”

“Were born in hell. Grew up in hell. Assumed they would die in hell, until…well, plans changed. The end.”

I gawk at him. “You can’t just the end. Until what? How’d you get to Tarrentown? And was everything you told me on the train a lie? You’re not from a lineage of monster hunters?”

“It wasn’t a complete lie,” Luke says, though he sounds apologetic. “You jumped to that conclusion. It seemed easier than telling the truth, that the monsters hunted us. My entire childhood was spent running. The books you saw at my house were ones I collected in the overworld, but I did have others passed down to me from my mom. Once the reality set in that we were here to stay, she did everything she could to protect us. Read every text, made us memorize every demon and monster type, moved us constantly so we were never in one place for long, and taught us to fight. You saw what it was like on the train. Humans don’t last here. The odds were never in our favor.”

I deserve an award for biting my tongue against making a Hunger Games joke right now. “You said the longer we’re here, the more we start to lose our humanity. But if you lived here for years, then how are you still…”

I trail off. It’s probably uncouth to ask him point-blank if he’s human.

He picks up what I’m putting down. “The same rules don’t apply to children. They have an innate innocence that protects their hearts until they’re older and lose that. For others, it’s a slippery slope. While some lose their humanity, many cling to whatever scraps they can despite turning monstrous on the outside. My mother always said her love for us kept her human at heart. I guess the same could be said for me. Most beings here have nothing to lose, but I lived in fear of her and my brother getting killed. Fear keeps you human.”

“That must have been a horrific childhood. I’m sorry.”

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I knew nothing else. And not everyone here is terrible. Some, like Hazaar, helped us at certain points. Others did not.”

My gaze snags on the faint horizontal scar across his throat, wondering how he got it and if there are more in places I can’t see.

Before I can think too hard about what resides beneath his clothes, I ask, “When did you make the switch from being the hunted to the hunter?”

He’s silent for a long beat, as if trying to pinpoint the exact moment. “Most demon deals have some kind of loophole, if you can find it. The deal my mother made was my mother’s, meaning that while she was trapped in hell for all eternity, it didn’t mean I was. I was betrayed and desperate to leave, so I went to the one person who can grant pardons through the veil. The devil. I wagered that if he would grant me passage to the overworld, I’d travel the globe hunting down whatever monsters caused trouble in it. He agreed to my terms and let me go.”

I try to imagine Luke confronting the devil, some silver fox man staring down at him from a throne built of bones or brimstone or human teeth. Maybe all three.

“Wouldn’t the devil want a presence in the overworld? So he could…” I gesture vaguely, searching for words. “Try to take over?”

“It’d be more trouble than it’s worth,” Luke says. “Besides, the devil is responsible for keeping hell beings in check, which can only be done on their turf. It’s ideal for everyone to keep to their respective worlds.”

“So you escaped hell just to end up back in it. That sucks.”

“Big-time.” Luke blows out a breath.

“I bet the overworld was a culture shock,” I mention.

“It certainly took getting used to. I had romanticized it, so there were some harsh awakenings to contend with.”

“Like that McDonald’s fries aren’t actually that good?”

His laugh surprises us both. “So awful,” he agrees. “Soggy and too salty yet not salty enough.”

“Burger King’s better.”

“By far.”

I mull over everything he’s said, unable to scrape my mind of two little boys playing hide-and-seek in the chaos of the Night Market. Or of his mother, and what she looked like. Or who betrayed him, a hurt that drove so deep it made him move worlds.

I’m about to ask when his voice cuts the quiet.

“You did well, Brie,” Luke says softly. It’s so simple, three words and my name, and yet the pressure of tears is suddenly, stupidly, behind my eyes. It’s been months since anyone has told me that and meant it. “You’re doing well. And I’m not just talking about the bargain with Hazaar. It’s not lost on me how horrific the underworld is for those who’ve never been. You’re brave and I would never blame you if you weren’t, but you’re taking all this much better than I expected.”