Amanda Hocking: Elegy

When I started writing the Watersong series, my grandma was alive. When I finished the final book in the series, she was not. She’d been battling Alzheimer’s for years, so she never read any of my books, although she’d read hundreds of my short stories and poems. And she’d saved everything I’d ever written—from Christmas cards to high school assignments. If Nanny had ever come across it, she saved it.

It would be impossible for me not to acknowledge the massive impact she had on me and my writing. Every word I’ve ever written should be dedicated to her.

That’s not to say she was the only person supporting and encouraging me, although she may have been the most unconditional with her love. I have been very fortunate to have phenomenal family and friends.

A big thank-you to both my mom and dad, who always believed in me, and my stepdad, Duane, and stepmom, Lisa, for taking care of me, even when they didn’t have to, and to my brother, Jeremy, who has always been my biggest fan.

As always, a massive thank-you to my assistant/best friend/viceroy of my life, Eric, who makes sure that everything happens. He makes everything possible, and handles all my moods, which can range from catatonic to Faye Dunaway in Mommie Dearest .

Thank you to the rest of my friends—Fifi, Valerie, Greggor, Pete, Matt, Gels, and Mark—who for some reason enjoy my presence, but also tolerate my many absences when I’m off playing with my imaginary friends.

Writing may be a solitary activity, but making a book isn’t. It requires a whole team of terrific people, like my editor, Rose Hilliard, who makes everything better than I can ever do on my own, and Lisa Marie Pompilio, who makes the most gorgeous covers for the books, as well as everyone else at St. Martin’s Press who do all the millions of things that make the books spectacular.

My agent, Steve Axelrod, and his rights director, Lori Antonson, are amazing. Seriously. When people say that authors don’t need agents anymore, I shudder, because I can’t imagine navigating all of this without Steve’s experience and knowledge.

I also want to give a shout-out to the Other House, who made the book trailers for the Watersong and Trylle series, just because I think they’re so fantastic.

And last, but probably most important, I have to thank all of the readers. Without you guys, I would just be a crazy person talking to myself. Thank you so much.

Harper had been rehearsing what she wanted to say to her roommate Liv all morning, but when Liv threw her against the wall of their dorm room, Harper knew she was in trouble.

It had only been six days ago that Harper moved into Sundham University housing and even met Liv. When she’d moved in, Liv had been almost tripping over herself to help Harper unpack and assuring her that they’d be “total BFFs” by the end of the semester. She’d shown Harper around campus, talking in a never-ending stream about everything under the sun.

But then Harper had turned around and rushed back to Capri the very next day, when all hell had broken loose with her sister, her boyfriend, and the sirens.

When Harper had been hit with an intense panic last week, Liv had followed her out to the car. She kept insisting that she ride back with Harper to make sure she got there all right, and Harper practically had to push Liv out of the car.

She couldn’t explain the psychic bond she shared with Gemma, let alone the monsters who awaited her back in Capri, so she couldn’t let Liv go with her.

That was how Harper had left Liv—standing out in the pouring rain, desperate to be her friend. And she returned to something completely different.

Liv slept soundly all day long—missing all her classes. Then she’d stumble in and out late at night, when Harper was trying to sleep, banging things and making noise without any apology.

Harper didn’t want to tell Liv what to do, but she couldn’t keep missing so much sleep.

By Tuesday, she’d finally thought she’d come up with what she wanted to say, and she kept repeating it over and over in her head as she walked up to the dorm room. Taking a fortifying breath before opening the door, Harper was determined to get her point across without lecturing Liv.

It was only a little after noon, and Harper had figured that Liv would probably still be sleeping. So it was with some surprise that Harper discovered that her roommate was not only awake but entertaining a guest.

Wearing only her pajama shorts and a pink bra, Liv was straddling a guy lying on her bed. Harper averted her eyes as soon as she realized that Liv wasn’t completely dressed, but she’d seen enough to realize that Liv was making out with him more ferociously than she’d ever seen before.

Both Liv and Harper had loft beds, so they were located on top bunks with their desks below. That meant that Harper didn’t have the greatest view of the guy from where she stood, but thanks to a pair of guy’s jeans and a T-shirt rumpled up on the floor, she discerned that he wasn’t wearing much clothing either.

“Oh, sorry,” Harper said quickly, and turned around, attempting to give Liv some privacy. “I thought you were alone.”

“Get out,” Liv hissed, and there was an edge to her voice that Harper hadn’t heard before.

The few words they’d exchanged the past couple of days contained a sweetness in them, like honey, but that had been replaced by something entirely venomous.

“Yeah, sorry, I will, but I just need to grab my chem book.” Harper hurried over to the desk underneath her loft bed and searched for her textbook.

Part of the reason she’d chosen now to have the conversation with Liv was that she needed to come back to the room to switch books for her afternoon classes.

“Hurry up,” Liv snapped.

“I’m trying,” Harper assured her.

She dropped her backpack onto the desk chair so it’d be easier for her to look. Normally, organization was her strong suit, and everything was in its place, but now that she was trying to get out of here, her book had vanished.

“Maybe you can join us,” Liv’s male companion suggested.

Harper chose to ignore him, instead thinking that her time would be better spent searching for the book. She still had her back to Liv as she was throwing everything off the desk, but she heard movement behind her, then a creaking bed.

Liv groaned. “Get out.”

“It’ll only be a second.” Harper turned around to scan the room.

“ Get out! ” Liv roared, and the anger in her voice seemed to reverberate through Harper’s head. For a moment, she could only stand there—dazed and unable to remember what she was looking for.

Harper shook her head, clearing some of the confusion, and feebly said, “I’m going as fast as I can. I just … I need the book first.”

“Not you,” Liv said. “ Him. ”

Before either Harper or Liv’s boyfriend could say anything, Liv pushed him out of the bed. He tumbled down, landing on the floor with a painful-sounding thud, and he groaned.

“Are you okay?” Harper crouched next to him, and he slowly sat up.

He rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah … I think so.”

Harper looked him over just to be sure, and she was relieved that he was still wearing his boxers. His bare torso revealed several fresh scratches on his chest and shoulders. His lip was bleeding, too, but she wasn’t sure if that was from the fall or something that Liv had done.