“What,” Angela stammered, “what are you talking about, Blake?”

Simon forced himself to stop rocking; he closed his eyes and willed his tears away. This was all for something, he thought.

“There’s an infection,” Blake said. “A monstrous disease, passed by bodily fluids; blood, saliva, whatever. And that vampire — that vampire we scared off, Simon — he’s the carrier.”

Simon, eyes still closed, had to know: “Why’d it take so long? Why wasn’t this happening before?”

“It took years to gestate,” Blake replied. “She needed time to grow strong enough, but now those bitten turn almost immediately.”

“She?” Angela asked, trying to grasp what was happening.

“When Lucifer left Hell, the flapping of his wings no longer kept the Cocytus frozen…”

“The what?”

“The frozen lake at the center of Hell,” replied Simon. “It holds all the traitors in history; traitors to relatives, traitors to country, traitors to guests, and traitors to masters. I’ve read my Dante.”

“Yea,” smirked Blake. “But Dante missed a few tricks.”