and flipped right to the correct page.
“Here.” Her gnarled hand smoothed the page as if to caress the words written. “Times were difficult, the summer after the stock market crashed. No visitors came to Shore Haven that summer. Old Master Russ closed the Amusement Park, and the employees struggled to fend for ourselves. I was newly married to your great-grandfather Dirk Coumlie. He worked as a carpenter, but there was no work. We took boarders into the house, to help make ends meet, but there was no money.”
“The townspeople became desperate; waiting in long lines for every scrap of food, we subsisted largely on handouts, rumors, and hope. For some, suicide became the antidote to despair, as people who lost everything could not imagine a better future. Misery drove others to take what they needed, and robberies, muggings, and break-ins became commonplace. Shore Haven gained a reputation as a rough area; a place of seedy characters and illicit activity. Those of us fortunate enough to have a place to live turned our homes into armed camps. And then the killing started.
“People began to disappear. Sometimes the bodies would be found days later, with the flesh shredded from their bones, sometimes they wouldn’t be found. The rumors spoke of creatures prowling the streets on the darkest nights, in the company of a hooded man. In The Sentinel, the killer became known as the Lakeside Lurker.
“Shore Haven descended into a state of siege. The police refused to accept the truth, and were too afraid to dig the killer out of hiding. Curfew laws kept all but the most foolish inside their homes between sundown and sunup. Neighbors banded together for safety and stood guard over each other after curfew. Tales of the old Senequois legends surfaced, of evil spirits imprisoned beneath Sentinel Hill. Letters to the editor begged the mayor and governor to do something. I felt I had to act, but I did not know what to do.
“Oneiri was with me even then, and Dirk and I came to suspect supernatural forces at work. We came to believe the perpetrator was using djemons to rob and murder the citizens of Shore Haven, and if we captured this demon master, perhaps we could end the madness.
“Dirk and I went into the caverns beneath Sentinel Hill. We found where a crevice had been hacked open, and I saw many, many djinn gathered within. Whoever had broken the seal had done so with purpose, and was now a demon master.
“Every night, we scoured the streets, looking for both victims and the master. With Oneiri’s help, we eventually found a man hiding in the shadows. As soon as I saw him, I understood we had found the master. His vile aura revolted me. He surrounded himself with several unnamed djinn, and a large djemon.”
“Who was he?”
“By the time we found him, his demon had become so powerful, he no longer controlled the demon. The demon had become the master. He had lost his humanity.
“I could not understand the mindless fervor I found burning within him. I had never seen so many djinn before, and I had never been in the presence of such so large a djemon. The Lakeside Lurker’s djemon had evolved into an energy parasite, existing only to feed on the soul energies of his victims. The more it fed, the more powerful it became. By the time we cornered him, the master’s mind and morality had vanished, leaving only the brutish shell of a human behind.
“We fought with hammers; the only weapons we possessed. Oneiri and I held off the djemon while my husband fought the master. We held them until the police arrived, but Dirk was wounded.”
“What happened to the guy?”
“He died, but not before his djemon delivered my Dirk a mortal wound. There was nothing to be done.”
“What happened to the djemon? And all the escaped djinn?”
“I compelled most back into the cavern, and resealed the breach. I documented everything here in my journal.”
“Here.” Her gnarled hand smoothed the page as if to caress the words written. “Times were difficult, the summer after the stock market crashed. No visitors came to Shore Haven that summer. Old Master Russ closed the Amusement Park, and the employees struggled to fend for ourselves. I was newly married to your great-grandfather Dirk Coumlie. He worked as a carpenter, but there was no work. We took boarders into the house, to help make ends meet, but there was no money.”
“The townspeople became desperate; waiting in long lines for every scrap of food, we subsisted largely on handouts, rumors, and hope. For some, suicide became the antidote to despair, as people who lost everything could not imagine a better future. Misery drove others to take what they needed, and robberies, muggings, and break-ins became commonplace. Shore Haven gained a reputation as a rough area; a place of seedy characters and illicit activity. Those of us fortunate enough to have a place to live turned our homes into armed camps. And then the killing started.
“People began to disappear. Sometimes the bodies would be found days later, with the flesh shredded from their bones, sometimes they wouldn’t be found. The rumors spoke of creatures prowling the streets on the darkest nights, in the company of a hooded man. In The Sentinel, the killer became known as the Lakeside Lurker.
“Shore Haven descended into a state of siege. The police refused to accept the truth, and were too afraid to dig the killer out of hiding. Curfew laws kept all but the most foolish inside their homes between sundown and sunup. Neighbors banded together for safety and stood guard over each other after curfew. Tales of the old Senequois legends surfaced, of evil spirits imprisoned beneath Sentinel Hill. Letters to the editor begged the mayor and governor to do something. I felt I had to act, but I did not know what to do.
“Oneiri was with me even then, and Dirk and I came to suspect supernatural forces at work. We came to believe the perpetrator was using djemons to rob and murder the citizens of Shore Haven, and if we captured this demon master, perhaps we could end the madness.
“Dirk and I went into the caverns beneath Sentinel Hill. We found where a crevice had been hacked open, and I saw many, many djinn gathered within. Whoever had broken the seal had done so with purpose, and was now a demon master.
“Every night, we scoured the streets, looking for both victims and the master. With Oneiri’s help, we eventually found a man hiding in the shadows. As soon as I saw him, I understood we had found the master. His vile aura revolted me. He surrounded himself with several unnamed djinn, and a large djemon.”
“Who was he?”
“By the time we found him, his demon had become so powerful, he no longer controlled the demon. The demon had become the master. He had lost his humanity.
“I could not understand the mindless fervor I found burning within him. I had never seen so many djinn before, and I had never been in the presence of such so large a djemon. The Lakeside Lurker’s djemon had evolved into an energy parasite, existing only to feed on the soul energies of his victims. The more it fed, the more powerful it became. By the time we cornered him, the master’s mind and morality had vanished, leaving only the brutish shell of a human behind.
“We fought with hammers; the only weapons we possessed. Oneiri and I held off the djemon while my husband fought the master. We held them until the police arrived, but Dirk was wounded.”
“What happened to the guy?”
“He died, but not before his djemon delivered my Dirk a mortal wound. There was nothing to be done.”
“What happened to the djemon? And all the escaped djinn?”
“I compelled most back into the cavern, and resealed the breach. I documented everything here in my journal.”
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