Bedbugs (26 page)

Alex had declared himself on vacation through the winter, turning over GemFlex to Vic, while Susan, on doctor’s orders, was doing pretty much nothing until her legs and skin were healed. They’d been visiting preschools as a family and zeroed in on a place called New Jersey Families, which Alex loved because it sounded like a Mafia-run preschool. Susan thought it was clean, bright, and charming, and Emma deemed the lead teacher, Ms. Jessica, “pretty much amazing, pretty much.”

They new house had a decent-sized yard, so they’d gotten a mutt from the North Shore Animal League, a good-natured squirmy puppy that Susan named Kaufmann.

*

Every night, before going to sleep, Susan Wendt stood naked before the mirror in her leg casts, examining her body carefully, tracking the progress of her healing. Her many scars were already fading, the welts receding from angry red to pale pink, then away to nothing, as welts are supposed to do. Some nights, when she performed this ritual, studying her flesh inch by inch, Susan allowed herself to believe that it might be over. If
The Shadow Species
had it right—and so far, unfortunately, it had been right in every detail—then the blight had been lifted with Andrea’s death.

Some nights she believed it, and some nights she didn’t. Every morning, when she woke, she lay in bed for a long time, until she felt ready to check her pillowcase.

To Kate Samworth for teaching me about oil painting, and especially for presenting me with the verb to
scumble
. Kate’s remarkable paintings, which are neither supernatural nor evil, can be found at
KateSamworth.com
Thanks to my friend Ed Parrinello, of SquareMoose Photography in Manhattan, for the basics of high-end jewelry and watch photography. And many, many thanks to James at Flash Exterminating in Brooklyn, who was generous with his time during what has become an unending busy season for the industry.

A tip of the hat to the habitués of
Bedbugger.com
, where I have lurked, bedbuglike, for many hours, gathering insights and then disappearing, sated, into the darkness. What a great and terrifying website.

Thanks, as always, to my fantastic agent, Molly Lyons.

Thanks to Jason Rekulak at Quirk Books, who continues to lead me, Virgil-like, down new paths of adventure. I am fortunate beyond words to be working once again with him as well as with Doogie, Melissa, Eric, Mary Ellen, Robin, Stephen, Dave, Brett—all you lunatics. Thanks, Quirk Books.

Last, and most, thanks to Diana Winters, who told me I should write this book, helped me write it, and made it better when she read it.