Devil House(112)

Wow, I said.

Yeah, right, that’s it, that’s what’s left, “wow,” right, that’s the pay line in my field, he said: “Wow,” that’s the triple bars lined up right there, ha, don’t get me wrong, I made my bed on it and the sheets have a high enough thread count, but that’s what I brought back from the castle, that’s the loot, and what’s that worth to any of those guys now, right, dead or vanished, chased out, exiled, right, that would be the word, “exiled”; “wow,” maybe I can use that if I ever find a way out of the woods on this one, thanks, let me know if you’re ever in the neighborhood again.

And I said good night, then, and good luck, and we sort of spun down the moment together until the energy dissipated a little; and then I stood there, thinking about my old neighborhood, and specifically about the Mean Man, looking out from behind his blinds, seeing everybody but never seen by anybody; and about the Frankenstein monster, tied to a garage door by invisible chains, waiting for his moment, ready when it comes. Getting loose enough to visit some great terror on his captors, wholly in the moment, lost in the play. I remembered, and I stayed with that vision for what seemed like quite a while out there, on the back porch, in the dark.





Acknowledgments

Two books were invaluable to me in building the mythical Devil House from bricks: Christopher Tyerman’s Who’s Who in Early Medieval England (Shepheard-Walwyn, 1996) and R. M. Wilson’s The Lost Literature of Medieval England (Methuen, 1970), from which I nicked many of the subheaders in part 3; world-building is tricky business, and no one knows this better than medievalists. I’m grateful for their work.

To my family and especially my wife, Lalitree, deepest thanks for the near daily forbearance of the mania that can accompany the making of a new book.

To Sean McDonald, whose editorial hand measures pressure in exactly the right proportions and who bears my love of obscurity patiently, protecting my book against its creator’s love of lost and losable things, my deepest thanks.

To my band and crew—Peter Hughes, Jon Wurster, Matt Douglas, Brandon Eggleston, Trudy Feikert, Avel Sosa, and Ryan Matteson—nothing I do is possible without you. Thank you, forever.

Finally to Donna, a great friend, consultant, and confidant at almost every step of the way for this book, the particular gratitude that comes from knowing that this book attains whatever stature it has only from the twin graces of your ear and your good words along the way. May I repay your many kindnesses!