Page 66 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“My phone,” I realize, remembering Luke stuffing it into his pocket when we were rushing from the motel. I hold the power button down until it turns on. “I wasn’t sure it would charge, but it got to eighty percent. I’m going to turn it off so— Oh?”

Luke glances at me. “What is it?”

I can’t believe what I’m looking at. “I got an email.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It just came through. It’s from Debra. Oh my God.” A laugh shakes out of me at the absurdity. “It’s the weekly report! Holy shit, she finally sends it close to on time, and I’m not even there. I didn’t know hell had 5G reception?”

“It doesn’t.”

The heaviness in Luke’s voice makes me pause. Suddenly, getting an email from Debra seems a lot less funny. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

He nods. “If the veil is weak enough to grant cell phone reception, that means the worst has already begun. There always has to be a sense of balance. If a piece of the overworld is slipping into the underworld, then—”

“A piece of the underworld is slipping into the overworld,” I finish grimly. “So we might already be too late?”

“I guess we’ll find out. We’re here.”

We finally crest the ridge we’ve been driving up, slowing to a stop. The dirt road we’re on dips, winding down to the namesake valley below, filled with an obscene amount of shipping containers, eighteen-wheeler trucks, and warehouse-like buildings.

“That’s where Beliar resides.” Luke points to the opposite ridge corralling the valley. Steep steps lead up to a magnificent fortress with two stone statues framing the massive door. Its Mediterranean facade blends in against the surplus of brown and orange and dusty gray surrounding us, though to the right of the entrance is a seemingly out-of-place garden bursting with wildflower blooms. The width of the valley and maze of shipping containers stretch between us and it.

“Beliar is close in status to the D-Suite,” Luke says, driving down the narrow road. “Since California is the Department of Transportation, along with being home to Hell Headquarters, that makes Beliar in charge of the main west side hub for moving goods.”

“What kind of goods?”

“Food, alcohol, drugs. There isn’t much to enjoy about hell, but a plus is you can’t die twice. Hell beings aren’t shy about imbibing, something encouraged by management. The more people committing the seven deadly sins, the more energy that’s created and can be mined.”

I snort. “They can’t just use coal like the rest of us?”

He cracks a smile. “And risk avoidable pollution on a nonrenewable resource? We’re not heathens.”

Luke pulls behind the nearest shipping container and cuts the engine. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”

Despite the heat, goose bumps break out along my arms. “What is it?”

He pulls out the map we’ve been using and tugs a ballpoint pen from his pocket, drawing a direct route from our current destination to a small body of water. “Roughly one hundred miles from here is a lake. Off the main road on the southernmost tip is a small cedar cabin. If anything happens to me, go there. You’ll find a woman named Moira, who I trust more than anyone else in the underworld. She might look monstrous, but her heart is good. She will get you back to the overworld safely. Do not wait for me, no matter what happens. Understood?”

I blink between him and the map. “We’re going to stick together, aren’t we? That was the plan. We sneak in together, find Krystal and the others, and sneak out. You leave us at the entrance to the overworld and continue on your way to the veil. That is the plan, right?”

Luke holds my gaze. “Plans change if they need to change. If we get caught, your job is to get everyone to the van. Mine is to take on Beliar. If I don’t closely follow, you have to leave with them. This isn’t me asking. Promise me, Brie.”

He’s unbearably close, our faces separated by less than a handful of inches. My belly burns with the same urge I felt in the motel room. A need to wind my hands behind his neck and tug him closer until our mouths meet in a devastating dance. To feel his fingers digging into my skin, pulling me over the console and into his lap, knotting in my hair and unknotting whatever wild thing within me is banging against the bars. I want to let it loose.

“Don’t make me beg,” he requests softly, not helping.

“But I want to hear you beg,” I counter, words so wispy I might as well have just finished a triathlon. “I want you to grovel and plead.”

His gaze darkens, idling on mine as his thumb rubs the back of my hand. I’ve taken him off guard, evident in the nearly imperceptible way his breathing grows unsteady. The feral thing inside me lashes out, urging me to close the gap between us.

But suddenly he’s pulling away. He opens the door, glancing at me from over his shoulder.

“It’s never been in my nature to be a beggar. Let’s go.”

Urgency rushes in as I follow him out of the van. We have no time to waste on…whatever that was. We have a rescue mission to ace.

The shipping containers provide decent coverage for us to slink behind as we draw nearer to Beliar’s estate on the ridge. It’s eerie in the valley. The only people are souls ghosting around, completing tasks. Like on the train, they don’t acknowledge us or alert others to our trespassing.