From this small seed, an idea grew in my mind. People began to emerge in my heart, occasionally spilling out onto my notebooks or writing apps during writing time (but more often on sheets of scrap paper during a linguistics or archaeology seminar at the ANU, or on the backs of generously supplied receipt paper when I had time to kill at one of Australia’s many excellent pubs). If you’ve ever thought ‘I should write about X’, trust me that once you start, it’s an addiction that you never feed enough.
So, for feeding my addiction, I further thank Ellen, Alex, Gerriet, my most enthusiastic first readers, but also the 20 or so dedicated beta-readers who sent me their feedback or patted me on the back on Fridays for managing to get another chapter released. I love y’all. Watching your faces while you talk about my writing (my writing!) is a treasure that I keep in my heart forever.
Up Next
Under the Weight of the Sea
The next installment in the Knack and Flame series, coming March 2020.
The library hummed quietly. The sharp edges of sounds were dulled against the crouching bulks of creaking shelves, feathery pages, soft bindings. The lights hung low from the ceiling and did not seem to reach all the way to the ground. A modern jungle, claustrophobic, dark, unknowable.
And a predator, stalking carefully between the stacks.
He was watching his prey through shelves of books as he paced back and forth to get a different view. His deliberate steps were slow and measured, drawing no attention to his movements.
Not that she would have noticed, or even heard. The young woman was standing alone in a presentation room, giving a talk to an audience of ghosts. Straight-backed and serious, she was practicing for her PhD defense. He had been watching her every day for some time, and so the predator knew that her defense would not take place for another week.
He had to secure her before then. He had to sample the taste of her, to determine her suitability to his particular needs. He had to begin the grooming before she understood her own value. Would she serve him? Would she gather others to him? Could she be both a fountain and a well?
The predator closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to suck a wisp of her from the air. Nothing. The door to her room was closed and the glass was too thick.
And so he crept slowly back and forth and watched as she concluded her talk, shuffled her papers, and then began to field imaginary questions. She believed so wholly in the academic process that she even raised her arm to call on empty chairs. He was impressed at her thoroughness, but felt a small pity at her naivety.
But he had little room for pity, and it quickly ran its course. He watched.
At the top of the hour, he knew, she would finish with a tight sigh, scribble more notes, and leave exactly on time.
And he would follow.
How to Disappear Completely Page 16