Turner was staring up at Harkness, at those eyes gazing down at them.
“What else could it be?”
“A demon. A monster under his command.”
“No,” said Dawes. “That can’t be. We trapped those demons back in hell.
We closed the door.”
It is your presence in hell that will keep the door open. The wound at Alex’s wrist throbbed.
“He bled her,” Darlington said.
Golgarot. He hadn’t been trying to kill Alex or even keep her in hell when he bit her. “He used my blood to prop open the door.”
The thing perched atop Harkness launched itself into the night.
“We have to track it,” said Dawes. “Capture it or—”
“That thing is the first,” Darlington said. “It won’t be the last. We have to find a way to shut the door for good, to seal the Gauntlet before the demons figure out how to keep it open.”
“Would that be so bad?” Tripp asked innocently.
“Demons feeding on the living?” Turner snapped. “Hell on earth? Yes, Tripp. That would be bad.”
Alex watched the creature circling above. She was done being used by Lethe and men like Eitan.
“You don’t get to prey on us,” she said to the thing in the sky, to Linus Reiter and Golgarot, and to every hungry thing that might be hunting them.
“You don’t get to use me to do it.” She faced Turner. “Find Mercy. Warn her.
Make sure she’s safe. Dawes, get Tripp to Il Bastone—and don’t let him eat you.”
“Alex,” Dawes said warningly, worry in her voice. “What are you going to do?”
“The only thing I’m good at.”
Alex set off across the green, daring the monster above to follow. She drew her salt sword and called to her hellfire, letting it bloom over her body.
If Reiter wanted a target, she’d give him one. Darlington had already fallen into step beside her, matching her stride, his horns glowing, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
A little magic. A talent for taking a beating. A demon at her side. That was all she had, but maybe it was all she needed.
“Come on, Darlington,” she said. “Let’s give them hell.”
Acknowledgments
Thank you for once more making the descent with me. As in Ninth House, almost all of the buildings and structures in this book are real and can be found on the New Haven map—except for Black Elm, which was inspired by some of the homes in the Westville area. Sweetwell is also imagined, but I don’t recommend cruising Old Greenwich looking for its likeness. At least not at night.
Every inscription and piece of decoration described at Yale, in New Haven, and in Sterling Memorial Library is real, including the University Librarian’s secret door. I did take a small liberty with Dürer’s magic square, which is a few feet from the Daniel and the lions’ den entrance to the Selin Courtyard, rather than directly above it. (James I was referring to the
Bodleian, but if I had to choose a library for a prison, Sterling would be a very fine one.) The collection of pond water in the basement of the Peabody Museum is also real (though I’m sure it has been packed safely away during the renovation). The amethyst map is not, but it should be noted that many Yale students and faculty owned enslaved people, including Jonathan Edwards—the fire-and-brimstone preacher for whom Alex’s residential college is named. For more on the relationship of the Ivy League to slavery, consider Craig Steven Wilder’s Ebony and Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities and the research of the Yale and Slavery Working Group (https://yaleandslavery.yale.edu).
I would like to say a special thank you to Camila Zorrilla Tessler, whose help accessing and unraveling the mysteries of Sterling was invaluable.
Thank you for answering my strangest questions and for sharing your many insights about Yale and the library. Thank you also to Tina Lu and Suzette Courtmanche of Pauli Murray College, who hosted my most recent research visit to campus; and thank you to David Heiser of the Peabody Museum, who was kind enough to tour me through a small fraction of the museum’s extraordinary collection during my first visit. Thanks again to Michael Morand, Mark Branch, Claire Zalla, and the brilliant Jenny Chavira, who connected me to so many wonderful people and resources. D, thank you for sharing your experiences on both sides of the law.
Many books contributed to the world of Ninth House and Hell Bent, but I’d like to specifically highlight Visions of Heaven & Hell Before Dante, edited by Eileen Gardiner; Yale: A History by Brooks Mather Kelley; Yale in New Haven: Architecture and Urbanism by Vincent Scully; (as always) Patrick Pinnell’s Yale University: An Architectural Tour; Model City Blues: Urban Space and Organized Resistance in New Haven by Mandi Isaacs Jackson; The Plan for New Haven by Frederick Law Olmsted and Cass Gilbert; The Great Escape of Edward Whalley and William Goffe by Christopher Pagliuco; The Public Artscape of New Haven: Themes in the Creation of a City Image by Laura A. Macaluso; and The Streets of New Haven: The Origin of Their Names by Doris B. Townshend. If it’s still running, I highly recommend the New Haven Museum’s fantastic exhibit on
the New Haven Clock Company Factory. If it’s not, I hear Gorman Bechard is working on a documentary.
At Flatiron, I’d like to thank Bob Miller, Kukuwa Ashun, and my editor, Megan Lynch, who approached this novel with ingenuity and care. Thanks also to my genius marketing and publicity teams: Nancy Trypuc, Katherine Turro, Maris Tasaka, Erin Gordon, Marlena Bittner, Amelia Possanza, and Cat Kenney; Donna Noetzel, Keith Hayes, and Kelly Gatesman, who made this book look so good; and Emily Walters, Morgan Mitchell, Lena Shekhter, and Elizabeth Hubbard in production. I am forever grateful to Jenn Gonzalez, Malati Chavali, Louis Grilli, Kristen Bonanno, Patricia Doherty, Brad Wood, and everyone on the Macmillan sales team for supporting my stories.
At New Leaf, huge thanks to Veronica Grijalva; Victoria Hendersen; Jenniea Carter; Emily Berge-Thielmann; Abigail Donoghue; Hilary Pecheone; Meredith Barnes; Joe Volpe; Katherine Curtis; Pouya Shahbazian, who has helped me walk through the valley of the shadow of development; Jordan Hill, who is a fantastic reader, strategist, and coconspirator; and, of course, Joanna Volpe, who has been my champion for over ten years and who somehow sees a way through the storm when I’m ready to wreck the ship.
Many thanks to David Petersen and Justin Mansfield for their help with Latin and Arabic, to Sarah Mesle for introducing me to Shell and Bones, to Amie Kaufman for her expertise on sailing and her help shaping Tripp’s story, to my college roommates Hedwig, Emily, Leslie, and Nima for sharing their memories with me, and to my generous and wise critique partners Daniel José Older, Holly Black, Kelly Link, and Sarah Rees Brennan for their creativity, intelligence, and good humor. Thank you to Melissa Rogal for being a diplomat and a general, to Peter Grassl for doing the math and putting out many a fire, and to Morgan Fahey for always coming through with quality arcana. Jeff, thank you for being so fun to scheme with. Adrienne, thank you for delivering cocktails, kindness, and wisdom when I most need them. Alex, thank you for lending me your marvelous writing and marketing mind. Sooz, thank you for your help on everything from flap copy to my weird input brain.
Thanks also to Noah Eaker, who first took a chance on Alex and her journey.
Chris, Sam, Ryan, and Em, thank you for keeping me laughing. Mom, thank you for raising me on poetry and common sense. E, thank you for
building a place of comfort and ease and beauty with me. I am so happy to be home with you. Fred, all hail Ball.
As always, a final thank you to Ludovico Einaudi, whose music guides me through every draft.
Also by Leigh Bardugo
