Page 69 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

Twenty-two

“Move!” Luke orders, shoving me into the wall by sandwiching his body against mine. The arrow whistles past the spot I just vacated, stabbing into the stone with a resounding crack that leaves its feather fletching quivering.

“Get Krystal,” he tells me as the statue advances, notching another arrow. “She’s in there.”

Luke points to the door where the statue paused outside. Of course. The statue stopped because he must have heard them inside.

“What about you?” I ask, guilt brimming that our cover is blown because of me.

“I’ll handle him.”

Another arrow flies our way, but Luke deflects it with his dagger and lunges at the statue. The two parry down the hall, a blur of steel and leather against stone and feather. Luke pushes their fight away from me so I have an unobstructed path to the door. I dart across the hall, turn the knob, and push open the thick wood.

The hinges squeak.

The archer’s head whips toward me, followed by an arrow. Its metal tip gleams in the dim light from the chandelier overhead as it soars straight toward my neck. I didn’t even realize he’d let it loose.

I’m knocked to the floor. A burst of pain makes white dots sparkle across my vision as my injured knee hits the stone. I catch myself with my hands and look down.

I expect to see red. I expect to not even be able to breathe. But the arrow missed me. Luke pushed me out of the way just in time.

“Go!” Luke orders, a blur of motion as he rushes the archer.

I crawl into the room. Not wanting the door to lock from the outside, I close it to avoid any stray arrows, but not all the way.

When I turn around, all the oxygen feels vacuumed from my lungs.

Huddled on the stone floor are four bodies. They wear normal clothes, but the outfits are filthy and wrinkled and ripped. The room is bare, only a toilet and sink tucked into the corner. No bed or blankets. All I have to go by is the waning light filtering in through the grimy window.

And then I see her. Krystal’s unmistakable caramel coils. Her back is against the far wall, knees pulled to her chest and head down.

“Krystal?”

My whisper is like a ghost crossing the room. Delayed, her head rises. I nearly scream as her eyes meet mine.

A milky film has swallowed her hazel irises. She blinks slowly, as if waking up. Her chapped lips part, a shaky breath escaping. “Brie?”

“I’m here,” I assure her, closing the distance between us. Falling into a crouch in front of her, my hands hover uselessly. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Her head falls back against the wall, as if too heavy to hold up. “You found me.”

Tears choke me as I lay my hand on her bare arm. Her flesh is hot, a fever coursing through her. “Of course I found you. And now I’m going to bring you home. To Amelia and your kids.”

A tear leaks out of her left eye. She doesn’t bother wiping it away. Instead, her hand grips mine tightly. “Promise me you’ll tell them I love them.” Her voice is faint, but urgent. “Promise me.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Tell them yourself. Besides, you can’t leave me at Curated Care alone. Who am I going to commit time theft with by debriefing the latest Love Island season? Carol?”

A shallow exhale escapes, that might be as close to a laugh as she can get. “More importantly, who’s going to set you up with Luke?”

As if hearing his name, the door flies open, slamming against the wall as the archer lunges into the room. His bow is in his hands, another arrow notched, but both clatter to the ground as his body dissolves in a storm of swirling dusky clouds.

Luke stands behind him in the hall, dagger outstretched from stabbing it into the archer’s back. Relief surges through me.

Until I see the arrow sticking out of his chest.

“You got hit!” I exclaim, forgetting to keep my voice down. He doesn’t reprimand me, which means we’re already fucked. The ceiling creaks with the movement of feet on the roof. The other archers are coming down.

“I’m fine,” Luke grits out. “We need to get them out of here. Now.”