Vicki Pettersson - The Touch of Twilight

I had a home.

But what about Warren?

That voice again.

What about the way he ruthlessly played us all?

What about it? I mentally shrugged. I knew where he stood, and now knew the extent he’d go to protect his troop. Would he sacrifice me, and along with me, this life I’d carved for myself in the troop? Not any faster than he’d sacrifice himself. And not if he thought he needed me, the Kairos.

Besides, I’d discovered, when it came to protecting what was mine, I could be ruthless too.

“Yo, Archer! So what do we call you now?” Felix yelled from the top of the maze. He was sweaty from chasing changelings and initiates, and looked like a statue standing tall in the flashing, pulsing glow that chased darkness from all corners of the boneyard.

“Yes,” said Tekla, folding her palms before her, similarly lit. “What’ll it be? Joanna? Olivia still? Just the Archer?”

I thought of what I knew of the power of names, how they claimed a place for you in this world, how people could seek them out in order to use them against you…how powerful they were when you claimed them for yourself. A person cannot be divided against herself.

Then I looked into the sky where the stars snapped sharp and clean, and thought of my sister. My heart pinched so hard that I momentarily lost my breath. Almost a year gone now, and still the look on her face at the time of death haunted me. It always would.

And yet.

“Olivia is fine,” I finally answered, turning away from the desert sky and back to all the lights that burned so brightly for me.

And it was.

In the time elapsed since the release of my first book, the audience that once existed solely in my mind has solidified into an enthusiastic core of readers, utterly surpassing my ideal. Specific thanks go to Joy Maiorana and Shada Adrianna for reaching out to me on message boards and allowing me to steal character names, and to Kim Castillo, who single-handedly kept this from being poorly titled Book Three . Of course, the series wouldn’t exist at all if not for my exceptional agent, Miriam Kriss, and the enthusiasm, hard work, and dedication of my outstanding editor, Diana Gill. Emily Krump and Jack Womack have been on my side from day one, and Tom Egner’s vision continues to astound me. Thank you all. There are others in the Harper family who’ve made me feel right at home, but names must naturally be omitted to protect the guilty (Rhonda Rose, Mark Landau, Donna Waitkus). Thanks always to Suzanne Frank-my partner-in-crime and literary BFF-the KWC girls, and continued gratitude to my husband, Roger, who remains my reason in All Things Good.

The USA Today bestselling author of The Scent of Shadows and The Taste of Night, VICKI PETTERSSON was born and raised in Vegas. She still lives in Sin City, where a backyard view of the Strip regularly inspires her to set down her martini and head back to the computer.