Page 78 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

I tuck the phone inside the pocket of my denim jacket, which Krystal now wears. It’s still mostly charged, so should last, barring any detours.

“Promise me this isn’t the last time I’ll ever see you,” she whispers, fingers finding mine again. Her squeeze is weak, but there. “Promise you won’t end up like Madeline.”

The image of the arrow piercing Madeline’s chest sears through my brain.

“I promise,” I choke out, though I have no way of keeping it. Moira opens the door, waiting in the entryway. The time to go is now.

I help Krystal up. With Moira’s help, we shuffle Krystal and Yasmine and Poppi into an ancient sedan. Before I close the door, Krystal grabs my hand, tugging me to stoop down to her level. She meets my eyes with a quizzical look that would be comical in any other situation.

“I know we’re in a nightmare and all, but was that Luke kissing you?”

The question and expression combo is so her it makes me laugh in relief. “I have a lot to catch you up on once we get home. I love you. See you there.”

I close the door and step back. Moira meets my gaze over the car, her scarred face creased with concern. “Save him.”

“Save them,” I say back. Before I lose my nerve, I ask the question that’s been burning at the back of my throat since I realized who she is. “Is it true? Is he”—I can’t bring myself to say Luke’s twin or your son—“really the devil?”

Her eyes turn sad. “He was once just a boy. But sometimes we can’t help what we become.”

The words rattle me, striking too close to home.

Moira looks up at the cloudless sky. “Nothing has been the same here since Luke was banished by his brother. It’s as if their broken bond broke something else, too.”

“The veil,” I say as another puzzle piece slides into place. His brother didn’t just get Luke kicked out. The betrayal was deeper than that. He banished Luke. Because, as the devil, he was the only one who could.

It makes sense now why the hell hounds have been after us. Like Beliar, they were sent.

Moira must read the realization on my face. “He did what he did to survive.”

Before I can ask whether she’s talking about Luke or his brother, she gets into the car and leaves in a cloud of dust.

I turn back toward the cabin as a wave of anxiety crashes over me. After withdrawing from med school, I never expected to dig up that version of myself again. I thought she was dead and buried with her parents.

But maybe those we lose don’t ever fully leave us. Even if it’s ourselves.

Twenty-five

My hands are covered in Luke’s blood.

I force myself to my feet and pause as a wave of dizziness passes. I can’t remember when I last ate, or what. Some car snack, probably. But hunger is the last thing I feel.

I leave Luke with his freshly sutured shoulder and cross the hall into the small bathroom. With a toilet straight ahead, a counter and sink to my right, and a shower to my left, I start stripping off my clothes. They’re stuck to me, layers of sand and sweat and grime fusing them to my skin. I crank the shower as hot as it will go and undo my two braids, which were falling apart anyway.

The spray is scalding. Using a bar of soap I take from a small ledge, I lather it in my hands. Luke’s blood soaked through my clothes and stains my side. My nails scrape at my flesh until it’s raw and red. The water washes the blood off my face from where he cupped my cheek and kissed me.

A kiss I can’t stop thinking about.

Was it just a goodbye kiss? A kiss of regret? Had he thought about kissing me before that moment? How often? Did he only think about kissing?

When I step out of the shower, I still feel covered in blood. But after wiping away the steam on the mirror, my skin is the same light olive shade it’s always been. A color that turns sickly in the winter when my summer tan takes a hike. Now is no different. Paired with my bloodshot eyes and the fading red burns below them, thanks to Badulf’s ichor, I’m the one who looks inhuman.

Maybe I am.

The fear that I’m running out of time to return to the overworld wraps a fist around my heart. Moira’s words play in my ear. Sometimes we can’t help what we become. Am I becoming part demon? But I feel human. Equal parts like I might throw up and blow away with a strong breeze. Tired, despite being wired.

I find a washcloth and wet it with warm water. In order to get the full view of Luke’s wound, I cut his shirt off earlier. As I reenter the room, my eyes travel down the tanned expanse of his torso. To no one’s surprise, he is sporting plenty of definition in the abdominal region, along with a fine trail of hair leading to his belt.

I wrench my gaze away as guilt swarms my gut for letting my eyes wander when he’s in such a vulnerable state. Instead, I focus on the faded white lines littering his body. Scars that seem significantly older than the one on his throat, leading me to assume they’re from the adolescent years he spent running and being hunted. A flash of anger burns through me—I wish I could pop every asshole demon and monster that ever made him afraid.