Heart of Darkness

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I want to thank Laura Bradford for knowing how much I wanted this and going way above and beyond to help make it into a reality.

Thanks also goes to Leis Pederson, whose edits always make me a better writer.

To my husband, who makes my heart beat faster and brings me home Thai food just because — I love you!

And to all the people who have supported me with so many kindnesses — thank you. Thank you for buying my books, for talking about them, for the notes you send and for coming to see me at events. It means so very much!

And for a moment it seemed to me as if I also were buried in a vast grave full of unspeakable secrets. I felt an intolerable weight oppressing my breast, the smell of the damp earth, the unseen presence of victorious corruption, the darkness of an impenetrable night.

— JOSEPH CONRAD, HEART OF DARKNESS

MERIEL sat, taking notes as her mother spoke from the head of the table. The pale, late autumn light spilled through the windows of the seemingly normal conference room, casting shadows on the far wall. The tastefully expensive clock and nondescript black-and-white framed photos made the space look like a law firm instead of the headquarters of a witches’ clan. A boring, non-offensive space that seemed to lack any point of view at all. This was most likely a deliberate choice, but Meriel thought pretending not to have a POV when you were someone as opinionated as Edwina Owen was absurd. But it wasn’t her place to make decorating choices. Not yet anyway.

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