by Sara Wolf
“I am Wiltlaurel,” They say, coming up with a smile.
Names are a good sign. They don’t want to kill me right away - or again.
“I’m Li-”
And that’s the switch.
I stop myself at the hungry look that flashes through the congregation all at once. It’s as if someone threw a breaker in their collective basements - the floaty grace and effortless composure instantly drops away, vanishing and replaced with a ravenous glow. Their perfect skin pulls taught over their perfecter bone structure, making them look too-suddenly malnourished. Their bodies tense, muscles going still under lace. Straight posture turns hunched, waiting. Some of them lick their lips, others click their bottlecap-ringed fingers together expectantly. The hollows of their high cheekbones look deeper, somehow. Darker.
And there’s an edge to the air, like a hundred knives pointed at me. Every hair on my body screams I’m not safe. Tells me to run. To hide, wherever I can. Ciel’s hungry look at the deer hair is nothing compared to this, and yet it is this, all at once. From a dozen different people.
Monsters.
Beneath that polished, eerily perfect surface, they’re starving. For what, I have no idea. But I’m sure as fuck not gonna be the one to feed them.
“N-Newgirl,” I blurt the only pseudonym that comes to mind - Alistair’s name for me. “My name is Newgirl.”
The world softens with a visible tic. The air moves again - a rollover of fractured, watery sunlight on the floor and the dead flowers shuddering minutely in the ceiling. The hunger fades from their faces all at once, the crowd going limp. Their grace returns in trickles as they straighten their posture, sweeten their faces, their trinkets chittering on their clothes - sounding exactly like a flock of birds. Hungry no longer. Only grace. Satisfied elegance.
“Newgirl,” Bloodbucket smiles. “It is our pleasure to meet you. On behalf of the Diamond Circle, allow us to be the first to welcome you to our world of Valen.”
Valen. A world. A whole fuckin’ world. Not Earth. Not Hell. Not Heaven.
Valen.
“What - ” I swallow. “What are you?”
Bloodbucket adjusts their robes mincingly, trinkets tinkling and smile widening with teeth - so many teeth.
“We are called the Fairfolk, and We thank you for your service, human.”
To Be Continued
Acknowledgments
I wanna preface this by being completely, blisteringly honest; this is the most scared I’ve ever been writing a book. Maybe ever in my life.
Most of the time, writing means diving into your soul, sure. But I didn’t just dive for this one. I went straight into hell. I dug down into the molten core of me and dredged up every fear, every hope, every insecurity, and spun it tight with every joke and pun and moment of levity I could find. Alistair and Ciel and Lilith sprung up from the primordial soup of me, and I gave them clothes and food and, really, they made a book for you. A whole world. It hurt every inch of the way. It gave me so much joy every inch of the way. The three of them are here to stay, and I hope you enjoy the journey. We’re going to grow together, I think. Reading means growing together with everyone who’s ever read that book. That’s why it’s beautiful. That’s why I keep doing it.
I wrote (am writing) this series to delve into what life meant to me as a teenager. This is my last year as a 20-something, and I wanted a sort of farewell to who I was growing up. I dusted off a lot of old diaries for ‘research’, and even revived my Livejournal (if you know what that is, by god, you’re an old like me)!!! I wanted a book that encapsulated my very specific teenage experience growing up in Hawaii, growing up with creeping self-doubt and keening self-awareness and a slightly-twisted way of looking at love all while trying to process childhood trauma. I wanted to write what it meant to me to be a teenager, in my veins, what I can remember sharply of it; the insecurity, and the security, and the superiority and the hilarity and fear of it all. It was so unfair, wasn’t it?
So. It’s selfish, I know. But this book is for me, mostly.
To my mother for being her witchy self, and to my best friend GW for helping fill in the seemingly unconnected lines of my brain. Thank you to Laini Taylor and her amazing works for constantly reminding me it’s okay to be dreamy and break things like silly little rules. To everyone who’s ever left me a message - on Insta or Goodreads or twitter or email or wherever - telling me what they think of my writing: thank you. Really and truly. Your time and attention are so incredibly valuable to me. A huge thank you to every book blogger who signed up for the ARCs - just seeing so many people excited about reading this really made my heart sing. A very special thank you to a reader (@palaceofwords on Instagram) for helping me with the intricacies of Swiss greetings!
And most of all, a shimmering, warm, bright thanks to you the reader. I don’t know where this book will take me, but it’s given me so much already. I hope it, too, has given you something.
May reading and writing be your armor, your sword, your shield. Always.
