Page 70 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“But your—”

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

The arrow is embedded in his left shoulder, just beside his collarbone. Thanks to his jacket, I can’t see how bad it is, but shiny blood is already seeping into the leather. When he turns to glance at the open door, I get a full view of his back. It didn’t pierce through him, thankfully.

But if it hit something major—

“We have to go,” he tells the group. The other three women are waking from whatever unnatural slumber they’re in. I barely recognize Poppi Parker. Like Krystal, her eyes are glazed, pale skin coated in a layer of feverish sweat. Her platinum-blond hair is matted, splayed around her head like a halo as she stares up at Luke.

“Are you Jesus?” she asks, quiet as a prayer.

“Not even close,” Luke refutes. But in one swoop, he helps her to her feet, then does the same with the other two women I don’t recognize. I help Krystal, though she leans heavily on me.

Luke sucks in a sharp breath as one of the women falls against his chest, jarring the arrow. Her eyes flutter as his arm comes around her to stop her body from crumpling.

“What’s wrong with them?” I ask him, looping Krystal’s arm over one shoulder and Poppi’s over the other to keep them standing. He does the same with the other two women, but keeps them both on his right side to avoid his shoulder.

“They must have been poisoned. Beliar would know better than to give a killing dose so they wouldn’t die before the eclipse. We’ll figure it out, just not here.”

I follow him into the hall. Krystal trips over something on the ground, landing hard on her knees before I can catch her. It’s the archer’s bow.

She grips it, using it like a cane. “I’m okay.” She coughs, feebly evading my attempt to take her weight again. “Help the others.”

We make it down the stairs to the second floor before coming to a grinding halt. Archers roam the halls, blocking the way back to the bedroom we came through and the path to the main staircase.

“This way,” Luke orders in a hushed voice, turning down another hallway with a staircase at the end. The one that leads to the butler’s pantry and the back door.

I hear it before I see it: the whir of an arrow. I drop my weight to the ground and swipe my leg out, tripping Krystal and taking Poppi with me. Luke pushes himself against the wall with the other two women just in time for the arrow to embed in the giant canyon painting at the end of the hall. It tears the canvas, its wooden shaft sticking out.

“Take them.”

Luke shoves the women into my arms as I get to my feet. In a seamless movement, he pulls two guns from his jacket pockets. The Glocks. He fires one in the time it takes for the archer to notch another arrow. It hits the archer in the forehead, and he immediately turns to smoke.

“Where have you been hiding those?” I gawk at him.

“Obsidian bullets. Too rare to waste. And loud. Though it seems our time for a quiet escape has come and gone, so…” He shrugs, then grimaces in pain. “I’ll take care of the archers. We won’t be able to leave as long as they’re here. Stick to the plan and I’ll meet you at the van.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” I argue, but I’m far too aware there’s no time for it. “We should stick together. You’re hurt.” An awful realization hits me. “You’re hurt because of me. That happened when you pushed me to the ground, didn’t it? That arrow would have killed me, and you took it instead.”

His hand comes up to push a wild curl that escaped from my braids behind my ear so his dark eyes can meet mine. “Yes. And I really don’t want to do it again, so please listen to me for once and get out of here. I’ll be right behind you.”

They’re the words of a liar. We both know it, but can’t lose any more time. Not with the stampede of archer feet coming and our rescues fading fast.

“I’ll see you at the van,” I tell him, more of a threat than a promise. I take Poppi and one of the other women. Krystal hobbles behind me with the fourth, depending on the bow to hold them up. It’s slow work, but we finally get to the first floor as a series of gunshots ring out from above. All I can do is hope Luke’s aim is better than a Stormtrooper’s.

“We’re almost there,” I whisper, trying to boost morale. They breathe heavily, feet stumbling and fingers clinging to me. We turn into the kitchen at the other end of the pantry and stop short.

The back door is in sight, across the expanse of tile and counter and steel. In front of it are two archers, arrows poised to find their mark.

I’m not delusional enough to think I can take them. Instead, I gently nudge us into the open doorway beside the entry to the pantry. The back door is a no-go, which leaves the front door, since there’s no time to seek another exit. The hallway we creep into is short, leading to a spacious living room with a giant brown leather sectional and a fire roaring in the hearth. Like moths to flame, Krystal and the woman using the bow bend toward the heat, anguished expressions smoothing at its warmth.

I sit Poppi and the fourth woman on the stone ledge in front of the fire, debating what to do. A wall of windows separates us from outside. My gaze hooks on the fire poker. Maybe I have time to break one of the windows and get everyone through before an archer or Beliar arrives. Doubtful, plus it’d be nearly impossible to make sure no one got cut on broken glass. We have to use the front door.

“Okay,” I say to myself to calm my quaking nerves. I turn to the fire where Krystal and Poppi and the two nameless women wait, bodies shivering and gazes equal parts hope and terror. “Okay,” I repeat, stronger, though still quiet. “We’re going to rush the front door. Quietly. Stealthily.”

I help them get to their feet, resuming my position of supporting Poppi and one of the women while Krystal and the other use the support of the bow. As a last-ditch impulse, I grab the fire poker and force it into the woman’s hands to my left.

“What’s your name?” I ask.