And we can’t rule out the allure of the Pine Barrens . . . The Pine Barrens of southern New Jersey,” he explained, looking at Meena in the rearview mirror, “has long been considered a hellmouth, due to the fact that they are where the New Jersey Devil fled soon after its birth.”
“Wait.” Meena, who’d been born in New Jersey, couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “The New Jersey Devil isn’t just the mascot of a hockey team? It’s real ?”
“Unfortunately,” Alaric muttered.
“Quite real,” Abraham said. “Malevolent beings, you see, expend enormous energy every time they perform one of their nefarious deeds, and then they need to draw more of it—energy, that is—from certain places thought to be linked directly to Satan. The New Jersey Devil is one of those creatures, a cryptid, bipedal, with wings that, according to the most popular legend—though of course we’ve never been able to prove it—was the thirteenth child of a Mrs. Leeds, who was understandably put out with Mr. Leeds for having already impregnated her a dozen times before. Upon its birth in 1735, she was said to have shouted to the midwife that this particular child could ‘go to the devil.’ Well, it didn’t. It became one instead, and flew up the chimney and off to the Pine Barrens, where it’s lived ever since, making those woods, and New Jersey in general, quite an attractive gathering place for the forces of evil—”
“I think we should change the subject,” Alaric interrupted, having caught a glimpse of Meena’s face.
“Oh,” Abraham said. “Yes. I apologize . . .”
But it was too late. Meena’s mind was spinning. Malevolent beings drew energy from places thought to be linked directly to the devil? In all her reading about demons, Meena had never encountered anything about this.
But she supposed it made sense. Why else did the Palatine ask Father Bernard—or the rabbis and other religious leaders with whom they worked—to perform blessings on the homes in which they’d found paranormal entities?
But if places of pure evil—hellmouths, such as the home of the New Jersey Devil—existed, wouldn’t that mean, logically, that their opposite existed, as well? Places of pure good?
She opened her mouth to ask, then became aware that Abraham had continued speaking.
“Once Brianna Delmonico’s been detained and quarantined,” he was saying, “we’ll extract any information she holds about who might have infected David, and, of course, collect whatever DNA we can, since finding the host parasite is always key in stopping any spread of a new vampiric outbreak—”
Detained? Quarantined? That’s what was going to happen to David’s wife?
Meena had never exactly liked Brianna—she was the woman David had dumped her for, after all. How was Meena supposed to like her?
But she wouldn’t wish such horrible things on anyone, much less the owner of the heart-shaped face she’d seen beaming up at her from the center of all that curly blond hair in the studio portrait.
So when the car stopped, and a sultry woman’s voice announced from the dashboard, “You have arrived at your destination,” and Meena looked up and saw the home in which David Delmonico had lived . . .
. . . for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.
With its sweeping green lawn, three-car garage, and grand-looking steps leading toward the double front door, David and Brianna’s house looked like an estate. Or a country club. All that was missing was a parking valet.
But even if the two-bedroom apartment she shared with her brother—the second bedroom was actually little more than an alcove—was slightly cramped, and the only thing they had that remotely resembled a lawn was the building’s roof, she was glad to live there, and not here.
“How lovely,” Abraham said, from the front seat. “I do enjoy getting out of the city from time to time. You forget what grass looks like, don’t you?”
Meena swallowed. How could
“Wait.” Meena, who’d been born in New Jersey, couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “The New Jersey Devil isn’t just the mascot of a hockey team? It’s real ?”
“Unfortunately,” Alaric muttered.
“Quite real,” Abraham said. “Malevolent beings, you see, expend enormous energy every time they perform one of their nefarious deeds, and then they need to draw more of it—energy, that is—from certain places thought to be linked directly to Satan. The New Jersey Devil is one of those creatures, a cryptid, bipedal, with wings that, according to the most popular legend—though of course we’ve never been able to prove it—was the thirteenth child of a Mrs. Leeds, who was understandably put out with Mr. Leeds for having already impregnated her a dozen times before. Upon its birth in 1735, she was said to have shouted to the midwife that this particular child could ‘go to the devil.’ Well, it didn’t. It became one instead, and flew up the chimney and off to the Pine Barrens, where it’s lived ever since, making those woods, and New Jersey in general, quite an attractive gathering place for the forces of evil—”
“I think we should change the subject,” Alaric interrupted, having caught a glimpse of Meena’s face.
“Oh,” Abraham said. “Yes. I apologize . . .”
But it was too late. Meena’s mind was spinning. Malevolent beings drew energy from places thought to be linked directly to the devil? In all her reading about demons, Meena had never encountered anything about this.
But she supposed it made sense. Why else did the Palatine ask Father Bernard—or the rabbis and other religious leaders with whom they worked—to perform blessings on the homes in which they’d found paranormal entities?
But if places of pure evil—hellmouths, such as the home of the New Jersey Devil—existed, wouldn’t that mean, logically, that their opposite existed, as well? Places of pure good?
She opened her mouth to ask, then became aware that Abraham had continued speaking.
“Once Brianna Delmonico’s been detained and quarantined,” he was saying, “we’ll extract any information she holds about who might have infected David, and, of course, collect whatever DNA we can, since finding the host parasite is always key in stopping any spread of a new vampiric outbreak—”
Detained? Quarantined? That’s what was going to happen to David’s wife?
Meena had never exactly liked Brianna—she was the woman David had dumped her for, after all. How was Meena supposed to like her?
But she wouldn’t wish such horrible things on anyone, much less the owner of the heart-shaped face she’d seen beaming up at her from the center of all that curly blond hair in the studio portrait.
So when the car stopped, and a sultry woman’s voice announced from the dashboard, “You have arrived at your destination,” and Meena looked up and saw the home in which David Delmonico had lived . . .
. . . for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.
With its sweeping green lawn, three-car garage, and grand-looking steps leading toward the double front door, David and Brianna’s house looked like an estate. Or a country club. All that was missing was a parking valet.
But even if the two-bedroom apartment she shared with her brother—the second bedroom was actually little more than an alcove—was slightly cramped, and the only thing they had that remotely resembled a lawn was the building’s roof, she was glad to live there, and not here.
“How lovely,” Abraham said, from the front seat. “I do enjoy getting out of the city from time to time. You forget what grass looks like, don’t you?”
Meena swallowed. How could
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