“Yes, please.” I smiled wider. There was only water inside. No more alcohol for my former demon.
Oliver wasn’t happy or settled or certain of himself, but he was working toward it. Each day, he struggled to understand mortality a bit more—to sort out what he wanted from this new life of his.
And so was I. So were most of us, I supposed. We waddled through life blindly, hoping to find something—and someone—worth fighting for. I had found it; I had lost it; I would find it again.
I took a gulp of icy water from the flask (to a few horrified stares of passersby—I winked at them), when Laure’s voice trilled out, “Miss Fitt! Je suis ici!”
I twisted back toward the busy street, and my eyes landed on Laure’s face. She waved excitedly from the window of a hired cab.
And I grinned at her. A wide, absolutely genuine grin.
Miss Fitt. It was who I was, and it was who I would always be.
Miss Fitt. Misfit. Forever.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This entire series has been a labor of love, and it only exists because so many people worked so hard. To start, I am forever grateful to Maria Gomez and Barbara Lalicki for first acquiring the Spirit-Hunters and bringing them into the HarperCollins family. Of course, it was Karen Chaplin and Alyssa Miele (who is not related to the vacuum company) who kept my prose from getting too boring and my plot from getting too twisty as the series progressed—while Rosemary Brosnan made sure those ladies didn’t get too twisty either. I am forever grateful to Cara Petrus, who designed the most stunning covers for my series—under the watchful eye of Barbara Fitzsimmons. Olivia deLeon and Sandee Roston were my publicists-in-shining-armor, while Kim VandeWater, Lindsay Blechman, and Diane Naughton handled all the marketing voodoo (it’s magic and I’m sticking with that). A thousand more thanks must also go to all the amazing copy editors who slaved over my misuse of ellipses, to Jon Howard, Josh Weiss, Andrea Pappenheimer, and—of course—Susan Katz and Kate Jackson. HarperCollins transformed my heaps of boring words into an entire trilogy of beautifully gleaming books.
The truth is, though, that Eleanor and the Spirit-Hunters would never have found HarperCollins if not for Sara Kendall, Joanna Volpe, and Danielle Barthel. Thank you for all your patience, your constant dedication, and your awesome you-ness. I’m so grateful I get to be a part of New Leaf, and I feel so blessed to have you in my court.
For my anam cara, Sarah J. Maas: Death is only the beginning. And I mean that in the least creepy, most Mummy-reference-way possible. You taught me to tap into my deepest, darkest feelings and pour them onto the page—and my writing has been more powerful and more fulfilling ever since. You’re amazing; this book exists only because of your endless cheerleading through every single daunting chapter; and I love you forever and ever and ever. And then some more.
I have to extend a gigantic thank-you to Erin Bowman, for always having an ear ready when I need to vent, a shoulder ready when I need to sob (So. Much. Sobbing. During this book), and a hand ready when I needed to get off the floor and keep writing. You’re a neighborhood watch of one.
For Meredith McCardle: we’ve come a long way in a few years, and I’m so glad we’re on the road together. I’ll have to write another series in Paris so we can tour it again. Or, how do you feel about Venice next time?
Thank you again to Biljana Likic (and also to Mufei Jiang) for help with the Latin. Who knew an ancient language could be so hard? I’d have been lost without you.
For Maddie Meylor: You and your family are the coolest bunch of readers a gal could ever meet. I’m so glad we’re friends and that you love the Spirit-Hunters as much as I do. I hereby declare Daniel as your official fictional boyfriend.
To Kat Zhang, Dan Krokos, Amie Kaufman, Erica O’Rourke, Amity Thompson, Katherine Brauer, Julie Eshbaugh, Leigh Bardugo, Marie Lu, Alex Bracken, and Jodi Meadows—you guys have been the best friends a gal could ever ask for, and I honestly can’t imagine writing a book without you to cheer me on. Thank you for always being there.
Many thanks to my husband, Sébastien, for his tireless support and hundreds upon hundreds of delicious meals (though if I ever see another zucchini casserole, I might strangle you). This is only the first series, baby, so get ready for an entire future of dinner-based slavery. Oh yeah, and je t’aime.
For my parents, my brother and sister, and aaaaall of my huge extended family: thank you for always believing in me, always backing me up, and always thinking I’m the best writer in the entire universe (I’m looking at you, Mom and Dad). I’m so lucky to have such a warm, loving family.