Emerald Hell

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Special thanks need to go out to:

Christopher Golden, for his editorial skills and general midwifery of the novel.

Victoria Blake, for overall assistance right down the line.

Guillermo del Toro, for bringing HB to the big screen and giving us fans what we've wanted for years.

And, of course, Mike Mignola, for letting me run not in his groovy world once again.

Hellboy came to the crossroads.

He'd been sitting in the back of the pickup for nearly a hundred and sixty miles while the others passed a jug of moonshine around and told their stories. The pickup couldn't do better than forty on the rutted dirt and gravel roads so it took most of the afternoon before they finally passed into Georgia.

Their folksy tales started off light and humorous and full of character, but eventually came around to death and ghosts, as he knew they would. Hellboy said very little but listened intently, especially when they got to talking about Bliss Nail and his six silent daughters. It had the ring of truth to it and he asked a few questions. The answers made him nod. He told them to take him as close by the Nail home as they could get him.

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