Page 97 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“This is the conference room where the D-Suite meets,” he continues. I finally let myself look at him for real. His left eye is blackening like he got slugged and his bottom lip is split, blood crusted into the thick stubble lining his jaw. Sometime between when I ran from him and now, he lost his jacket, and the top few buttons of his dress shirt have ripped off so it gapes open. The bandage on his shoulder that I redressed—yesterday? Today?—peeks out.

“I watched you fall.” The calm in Luke’s voice cracks with emotion I don’t want to dissect. “When you ran, I tried to follow, but the crowd swallowed you before I could. Then I saw Badulf and thought if I could lure him toward me, let him get me, you might get away. But he and Zekiel split up and next thing I knew, you were falling from the sky.”

“Did you enjoy the show?” I joke weakly.

He drags in a rattled breath. “That fall could have killed you. When the hounds brought us up here, I wasn’t sure you were alive. You’ve been unconscious for an hour, maybe more. I thought—”

He cuts himself off, swallowing thickly. His eyes reflect a whirlwind of frustration and fear as he finishes. “I thought you were dead.”

I feel a little dead, all things considered. “Yeah, well, I’m like a roach. Tough to snuff.”

His gaze darkens. “We should have never come here. You should have left with the others. You would have been back in the overworld by now. But there’s still a chance. If we can get out of here—”

A laugh breaks out of me, spiking pain through my side. That’s not good. A broken rib, maybe two. “Oh, sorry, do you think I’m going anywhere with you after you kept the itty-bitty truth from me that you were the fucking devil?”

He flinches as if my words are a slap. “Emphasis on were. Past tense.”

“Luke,” I growl.

His shoulders shift like he wants to raise his hands in innocence before remembering he’s tied to the chair. “I know. I’m sorry. You’re right, I should have told you. I wanted to—started to before the aerial act began—but you weren’t the only one running from your past. I couldn’t face it. Didn’t want to.”

“Still don’t?” I guess.

“I don’t think I have a choice. And…” He trails off, searching for words. “At first, I didn’t tell you because I needed us to stay on track and get to Beliar’s before it was too late. But then, there was a shift. I didn’t want to tell you because I valued what you thought about me. I was ashamed, and it had been a very long time since I’d felt shame. I didn’t know what to do with it.”

I blame the concussion for me caving. “Explain. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth, or I’m out of here.”

Mentally, of course, given I’m tied to a chair less than six feet away from him. He’s smart enough not to point it out.

“I didn’t lie about my childhood,” Luke begins. “The running, the hiding, the endless ridicule—it was real. We’d had close calls before, but the worst one happened when I was sixteen. My brother and I snuck onto a farm to steal food and got caught. My mother begged the farmer, a greater demon, to let us go, and offered a trade—us for her. He agreed and she was taken in our place.”

Anger lights up Luke’s face. “It was my fault. It was my idea to sneak onto the farm, my idea to steal, and she paid the price. I swore I’d free her. But to do it, I needed someone more powerful than a greater demon backing me. So I came here, to Hell Headquarters, and made a deal with the devil.”

I try to imagine Luke as a teenager, with all the false bravado that a sixteen-year-old might muster, standing at the foot of the throne and bartering with the man sitting on it.

“What was the deal?” I ask.

“I asked him to protect my mother and brother, and in return, I’d serve him. He was terrifying, but he liked my guts and was impressed I’d lasted so long as a human. He agreed and had my mother retrieved. She was put in one of our old safe houses, the cabin by the lake. Even though my terms meant I had to live here to always be available to him, my brother could stay with her. He was furious with me for sacrificing myself to protect them, but it was too late. The deal was struck, the ink was dry. I’d signed my life away to be the devil’s intern.”

I swallow down an absurd laugh. “Unpaid, I assume?”

“The worst positions always are.” His responding grin is dismal at best. “I did everything he asked. Endless paperwork. Event planning. Crisis management. Explained how to attach PDFs to emails too many times to count until eventually I took over correspondences entirely. I even killed for him. He suspected the Midwest vampire clan was up to no good, so I infiltrated it by dating Tatianna, its heiress. But I was still human, trying to hold on to it despite everything. It made me make human errors, like letting my heart get the best of me. When it did, he’d punish me.”

I swallow past a growing lump in my throat, knowing better than to hope peak punishment here is a performance improvement plan. The faded scars I saw on his body suggest otherwise.

“I lived like that for a decade. But while I got older and wiser, he was becoming crueler and more reckless. Making stupid calls that threatened the economy and fragile peace between the hell branches. I wanted out and knew there was a loophole if I could find it.”

“The loophole was killing him.” I piece it together, horror cinching my chest. “But doing that meant—”

“Becoming the devil myself,” Luke finishes grimly. “Hell had never had a human devil, so it was a long shot. Banishing him to the abyss until the next Reckoning wasn’t enough. I had to get rid of him for as long as possible. My research led me to the Night Market, where I met Hazaar. I traded my mother’s pearl necklace, the only thing she had left from the overworld, for a vial of Fatality.”

“That’s how Hazaar knew you.”

Luke nods. “There was a banquet planned, and I put the poison on my steak knife. I was always seated next to the boss. When he cut into his filet, I cut into him. And just like that, he was gone, and I had a roomful of hell beings to vouch that I was the rightful successor.”

I gape at him, forgetting I’m supposed to be pissed. It’s so outlandish a tale I can’t even question the authenticity of it—no one in their right or wrong mind would make this shit up.

At my silence, Luke continues, though his expression shifts to something difficult to pin. Regret? Shame? Disgust? Maybe all three.