This wasn’t over.
Epilogue
IT’S ONLY A DREAM
He couldn’t run. He couldn’t scream. All he could do was be.
Pain and anger. They didn’t stop, they didn’t start, they just were. He didn’t know if he even had a body to hurt, but there it was. Agony. Rage. There he was. Alone.
Darkness went on in every direction.
Quiet.
Still.
Everything and nothing all at once.
He floated in the void, fear slithering cold through him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He could only lie there as the black consumed him.
Flashes of a face interrupted the fear every now and then. Whisperings against his mind, of bright laughter and brown eyes, kept him from giving in entirely. He clung to them, with his nothing arms and his trembling essence. This was all he knew. He couldn’t let her go.
“You poor dear.” A voice. The shadows shifted but did not fade. Someone stood beside him. Over him.
He couldn’t see.
“Look at what they’ve done to you. What she did to you.”
She? The flashes again. More this time—a smile, a voice, but not this one.
“Yes, her. She did this to you. Don’t you remember?”
More flashes. A sword, burning bright. It hurt. The light burned. The fire filled him, ate him from the inside. Every inch of him screamed, every nerve like lightning. He wanted it to stop, tried to beg, but he couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
Without warning, the pain vanished. The cold rushed in to fill him, the relief hit hard enough to hurt.
“There you are. All better?”
He wanted to nod. The pain was gone, but so were the flashes. The eyes. The laughter. He was alone, again.
“Oh, my lovely, you’re not alone. I’m here.”
Warmth blossomed in his chest. It spread through him, filling him from top to bottom. It chased away the remaining jitters of pain. Calm. Peace.
“You see? I have not forgotten you. I am always here. You can come with me, if you like. Leave this place.”
Yes! That’s what he wanted. To escape, to get away from the nothing. To not be alone.
“Come to me. Be with me. Be mine.”
The darkness drew into itself and let him go. He floated higher now, up and away, leaving everything he knew and was behind.
“That’s it. Come to me.”
A pinprick of light flickered to life above him.
“Come to me.”
He reached for it.
“Come to me.”
It filled his vision, filled his body, filled everything. There was nothing but him and the light.
He opened his eyes. A brown ceiling stretched overhead. A fan rotated slowly at its center. Walls the same color, bare and cracked here and there, surrounded him. He shifted his body, wriggling his fingers and toes. He had fingers and toes. Maybe he always did, but now he could control them. He lay on a bed, the softness against his skin intriguing. He inhaled, slow, careful, his chest burning as it took in air, like his lungs had forgotten how. The smell and taste of dirt and copper filled his nose and mouth. His face scrunched.
Something clicked to his right. A door opened, and a small, dark-haired brown girl slipped through, closing it behind her. She held an armful of vials and bottles that she promptly dropped to the floor when she looked at him.
“Strewth.” She all but threw herself against the door, back pressed to it, shoulders hunched. “Ch-Chess?”
He tilted his head to the side, observing her.
“This … no way, no how, the crow flies.” Her wide pink eyes held his. She blinked. Her eyes were now purple. Then green.
He studied the way her mouth quivered and the rest of her trembled. She stank of fear. It rolled off her in waves.
“Alice. A tale to tell. Must tell.” Her fingers fumbled at the knob.
“Take her,” the voice echoed between his ears.
He bolted up from the bed and across the room.
She screamed.
His fingers closed around her throat.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I cannot begin in any form or fashion without first thanking my heavenly Father the Lord God and His son Jesus Christ, my personal Lord and Savior. Thine is the honor and the glory, and I would not be here without Your guidance, Your grace, Your mercy, and Your blessings. Thank You for guiding my steps, for putting those who would lift my dreams in my path, and for being with me from the first word of the first story I ever wrote.
Thank you to Melissa Nasson, who fell in love with Alice enough to stand by me and her through the years we searched for the right home for this story. You kept my spirits lifted and my hopes high. You made what would’ve been a difficult time surprisingly easy. Not once did your belief in me or this story and these characters falter. Thank you to Rubin Pfeffer, for backing Melissa as she backed me.
Thank you to Rhoda Belleza, who took a chance on me and convinced her team to take a chance as well. I could tell from our first phone call, when you said you were willing to go as far as I wanted with Alice’s story, steeped in Black Girl Magic, that I had nothing to worry about placing this book in your hands. You pushed me to be a better writer, a more capable storyteller, and a stronger artist.
To Erin Stein and all of the Imprint team who’ve made me feel welcome at every turn with this project. You guided me through this entire process, included me whenever and wherever you could, and shared your insight into the industry.
I want to thank my family, my mother, Yolanda, and my father, Carl Jr., who saw my passion for words and writing and let me do my thing. You supported me, encouraged me, and prayed for me through this nearly decade-long struggle. I always wanted to make you proud, from when I was a wee thing to the woman I am now. Seeing your joy at every success leading to this one has filled me up and pushed me in ways I honestly cannot describe. Seriously, when I try, it just ends in incoherence and tears. I love you, Mom and Dad.
To my sisters, LaQuisha, Carlanda, and Richetta, the first audience for my first stories, which I made asked y’all to act out with Barbies and action figures. Thank you for all those years of indulgence and the (mostly) constructive criticism. Seriously though, you guys are my heart, along with Carl III (RIP) and Carl IV, my baby brothers.
To my Granny, I miss you every day, may you rest in peace, and to my Papa, who gave me my first typewriter—yes, the old-timey kind—and laptop respectively, thank you for making sure I had the tools and resources to pursue my dreams. I wasn’t even all that serious about it back then, but you two were serious about me being able to be serious if I ever chose to. Guess I did. I love you both so very much, and words can never express the impact you’ve had on my life and my creativity. I certainly wouldn’t be here without you.
To my Grandma Richie, who kept me lifted in prayer and gave me a quiet space to gather myself. Sometimes I had to escape and you were someone I could go to for that, and so much more. You provided peace, clarity, and a covering I’m eternally grateful for.
My BETAs and two of my besties, Craishae Johnson-Sarol and Angie Meyers—the geekery and fandom are endless with us, but so is the love. You two have supported me since I said I wanted to do this thing, for real for real. You held me accountable, demanded updates, then read this and other stories over and over, providing feedback that helped mold me as an author and develop this story. All while going on about how excited you were for the future fanfiction. I love you.
So many people touched Alice’s story as critique partners, and it’s so much stronger for it. Winter Jones, Margaret Owen, Megan Bannen, your constant cheerleading kept me going, and your excitement and support at each new accomplishment filled my well.
My Novel Clique ladies, my writers group, my fellow storytellers, and fighters. Natasha Hanova, Dawn Allen, Nicole McLaughlin, and Marsha Lytle, for seven years you taught me, pushed me, consoled me, guided me, instructed me, and held me down whenever I felt like giv
ing up. You were the first ones to lay eyes on this, the first ones to offer feedback, the first ones who showed me what my words were capable of. You were there during the rejections, the rewrites, the revisions, the resubmissions, and everything else. You’re my friends, my sisters from another mister. I love you guys.
My Wakanda ladies: WAKANDA FOREVER! Angie Thomas, Adrianne Russell, and Camryn Garret, you three are warriors. From the moment I read your words, I knew you three were going to rattle the stars and leave everyone shook. I’m glad to say I told you so while doubling down on wait and see. Your fire burns bright and I cannot wait to set it all ablaze with you.
To Dhonielle Clayton, Heidi Heilig, Justina Ireland, Zoraida Cordova, Cam Montgomery, and Tehlor Kay Mejia, your industry, insight, knowledge, support, and all-around bad-assery are an inspiration. Knowing you’re in my corner emboldens me to take on the industry and the world.
And to those black kids searching countless shelves and between endless pages, hoping to catch a glimpse of themselves in galaxies far away, fantasies long ago, and stories here and now: This one’s for you. Shine on, and drive back the dark.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
L.L. McKinney is a writer, a poet, and an active member of the kidlit community. She’s an advocate for equality and inclusion in publishing, and the creator of the hashtag #WhatWoCWritersHear. She’s spent time in the slush by serving as a reader for agents and participating as a judge in various online writing contests. She’s also a gamer girl and an adamant Hei Hei stan. A Blade So Black is her debut novel. Follow her on Twitter @ElleOnWords or visit her site at llmckinney.com. Or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue: Curiouser
One: Here We Go
Two: Beyond the Veil
Three: Dreamwalker
Four: Undate
Five: Loose Ends
Six: Contrariwise
Seven: A Message
Eight: And Curiouser
Nine: A Very Important Date
Ten: Visiting Hours are Over
Eleven: Contagious
Twelve: The Puzzle
Thirteen: Hurry
Fourteen: The Duchess
Fifteen: Legracia
Sixteen: What Mother Wants
Seventeen: D is for …
Eighteen: Fiendish
Nineteen: Jaws that Bite
Twenty: The Black Knight
Twenty-One: Best-Laid Plans
Twenty-Two: Five Down
Twenty-Three: One to Go
Twenty-Four: A Deal
Twenty-Five: Reflections
Twenty-Six: The Eye
Twenty-Seven: Famous Last Words
Twenty-Eight: Eyes of Flame
Twenty-Nine: Claws that Catch
Thirty: Not Over
Epilogue: It’s Only a Dream
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2018 by Leatrice McKinney
A part of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
fiercereads.com
All rights reserved.
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Imprint logo designed by Amanda Spielman
First hardcover edition, 2018
eBook edition, September 2018
eISBN 9781250153890
A Blade So Black Page 29