Thanks to Simon & Schuster in their entirety, both in the US and in the UK, and to all my lovely foreign publishers as well. Your amazing support of the first book means that I trust you all absolutely with this one!
Thanks to Nicole Russo and Anna McKean, for organizing the best US tour ever, and Scott Westerfeld for making every day of it fun. And to Kathryn McKenna for going around England with me, and the whole publicity team at S&S UK! Thanks to all the librarians and booksellers I met and have yet to meet—it’s an honor and a privilege!
Thanks to Saundra Mitchell, who read the second draft and told me I would get there, and to Justine Larbalestier, who read the fourth draft and told me I had.
To Team Castle: Ally Carter, Jennifer Lynn Barnes, Sarah Cross, Carrie Ryan, Diana Peterfreund, Robin Wasserman, Maureen Johnson, Holly Black, and Cassandra Clare, in memory of kittens, murders, and snickerdoodles.
To the S Club, Susan and Sinead, due to much writing and more cupcakes.
To the Clique, who know who they are and keep me sane(ish).
To my friends and family, who showed up at events, cheered me on, and (shockingly) still answer the phone when I call, despite suffering through all that.
Thanks to Natasha, who never stops believing, and Jenny, who wishes we both would.
And thank you so much to the fans of
1
Magic on Burnt House Lane
Any minute now,” Rachel said, “something terrible is going to happen to us.”
The area around Burnt House Lane was deserted at this time of night. The cracks in the pavement that Mae hardly noticed by day had turned into shadowy scars along the cement, tracing jagged paths that led into the dark of yet another dead-end alley. They peered down into the alley and made the silent mutual decision to walk on extremely fast. Mae was in the lead.
“Come on, this is an adventure.”
Rachel muttered behind her, “I’m pretty sure that’s what I just said.”
Mae had to concede that this might not have been one of her better ideas. She’d just wanted something different now that she was finally able to leave the house, something a little exciting, and a party in an empty warehouse near Burnt House Lane had seemed the perfect plan.
A streetlamp above slowly winked its single evil orange eye, and night swallowed them at a gulp. The light sputtered back on with a grudging crackle and night spat them up, but by then Rachel and Erica had both walked into Mae’s back and were huddling together.
Rachel was shivering. “I think this may be the worst situation I have ever been in.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” said Mae. “I’ve been in much worse situations than this.”
She shivered and thought of the knife sliding in her sweaty grasp, the terrible resistance as she had sunk it into skin. She remembered the blood on her hands.
Rachel and Erica didn’t know anything about what had happened last month. They still thought she’d run off to London with her poor misguided brother on some crazy impulse.
Her mother thought that too, which was why Mae had been grounded for two weeks, picked up outside school in Annabel’s car like one of the younger kids who ran from school to car, frantic to exchange one cage for another.
Mae closed her eyes, more desperate to escape than any of them, and the dying streetlamps and broken lane faded away. She remembered bright lanterns flooding the forest with gold, dancing with an edge of danger so she wasn’t sure if she was sweating from exhilaration or fear, and black eyes on hers.
She’d seen magic. And now she’d lost it.
She wasn’t thinking about that, though. She was finally out for the night and she was going to have a good time. She was going to see Seb, and she wasn’t going to think about anyone else.
There was a clatter and movement in the shadows. Mae jumped and Erica grabbed her arm, five sharp fingernails biting like a small scared animal.
“It’s fine,” Mae said loudly, more to herself than her friends. She’d walked around Burnt House Lane after dark hundreds of times. She’d never been scared before. She wasn’t going to start being scared now just because she knew exactly what could be watching.
Mae walked on, keeping her stride measured and sure, and nothing followed them that she could hear.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” she told Erica. “Nothing.”
They reached the next alley and saw the warehouse where the party was being held, its windows streaming steady yellow light. Erica took a deep breath, and Mae grinned.
“See,” she said. “What did I tell you?”
“Sorry I got freaked out,” said Erica, who had not said a word all this time, who was always the angel on Mae’s shoulder saying, “Sounds great!” while Rachel on the other said, “We’re all doomed.” “I know the Lane’s safe enough, really. After all, Jamie hangs around here. Can’t really see Jamie strolling through a crime den.”
She laughed, and Rachel on Mae’s other side did too, both of them towering over Mae in their heels, fear melting away in the light.
The warehouse suddenly looked a lot less inviting.
