Page 95 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

However short that may be.

A fourth toll makes a scream rip up my throat, lost to the music. “No!” I dig my fingers into my neck where the edge of the mask should be. My nails scrape against skin as a fifth toll chimes, reverberating through my entire body since I’m right below the mighty clock. If it gets to all twelve, it will be too late. It might already be.

I need to relax. That’s how the mask came off last time. I had to will it off. But it feels impossible to think straight as the toll chimes a sixth and seventh, then an eighth. A ninth, a tenth.

I force a deep breath, closing my eyes. My mother’s laughing face swims in front of my vision as the eleventh toll rings out. My father’s smile. Krystal leaning against my desk at the end of the day, saying, “Ready to go, angel?” Luke telling me I’m beautiful and brave. More lies, probably. But I clutch them nonetheless.

The edge of the mask lifts. I rip it off as the twelfth toll echoes through the room. It flies out of my hand and down the stairs, smacking the ascending hell hound right in the face.

I suck down gasps of air as I reach the balcony. My relief is short-lived as the hound rebounds quickly, prying the mask off and flinging it into the crowd. He sprints up the steps.

I am so fucked.

Applause explodes around the room as the aerial artists gracefully unravel to the ground or swing onto the railing to dismount their silks. I race down the length of the balcony, dodging chaises and ottomans like a running back on my way to the end zone.

“Brie?”

My name stops me short. It comes from one of the aerial artists standing by the railing. She removes her crimson mask.

“Shonda?!” I exclaim, recognizing her snake-like eyes. It’s only been three full days since she saved my ass at the Night Market, but it feels like weeks.

“What are you doing here? And girl, why are you always running? Are those bitch boys after you again?”

“Yes,” I pant, taking cover behind a tall wingback chair. “I just…need a second…to think.”

“Shit, the hound is coming. I don’t think I can hide you this time.”

She’s right. In a matter of seconds, he’ll be upon us and I’m a sitting duck waiting for the gunshot. I’m done depending on Luke, wherever the hell he is. It’s on me to save myself.

Tied to the railing are the silks Shonda used during her performance. The other ends are still connected to the ceiling.

A ludicrous idea enters my mind.

“You’re done with those, right?” I grab the silks.

“We have another set before the eclipse, but that’s not for a couple hours. What are you—”

“I need them.”

She stares at me. “For what?”

“To get downstairs.” I get them unknotted and swing my leg up onto the railing. There’s no way I can do what I’m about to do in platform heels. “Can you help me unbuckle my shoes?”

“Uh, okay,” she obliges. I switch feet, and the second platform drops beside the first. I wish I could take them with me, but it will be a miracle if I can pull off what I’m about to do without any additional hindrances.

“Help me over.”

She supports me while I climb over the railing. I’m so high up my vision blurs.

The crowd faces the stairs, clapping and bowing as the quadrant of hell hounds moves from the doorway into the room. With everyone focused on the entrance of their devil, no one will notice the measly mortal hanging above them.

Hopefully.

“You’re out of time, babe,” Shonda regretfully informs me.

The hell hound comes into view. I don’t have a single thought in my head other than getting away from him as I launch off the balcony and swing through the air like a pendulum.

I strain to remember every morsel of information from my three aerial classes, but I was twenty-one and likely hungover and at least thirty pounds lighter at the time, not to mention mostly there to goof off with my friend. A friend I pushed away when I burned my old life to a crisp.