This story has had nearly as many lives as a cat, which is to say one, but also, something like nine. A lot of people helped me in a myriad of ways, and while it sounds trite to say I couldn’t have done this without them, I truly couldn’t have done this without them.
There is Val Gintis, and Jill Carrigan, who long ago suffered through a story I once wrote—kind of like this one, but so very much worse. There is Lee Gjertsen Malone, who helped critique and refine my writing, and guided me down the path of being an Author.
There is my agent, Lisa Rodgers, and the whole JABberwocky team, whose excitement and enthusiasm for this book brought us all on an epic journey to find it the right home.
There is my editor, Lauren Smulski, who improved my writing with her keen eye and her ability to lightly suggest a brilliant change—and everyone at Harlequin TEEN who, like wizards, took the words I wrote and have somehow transformed them into this book in your hands.
There is Connie Biewald and Jen Kay.Goodman and the Fayerweather Street School, who helped me put this book in front of readers about Speth’s age. (I’m very sorry, Ollie, about Sam.)
There is Sean Hill and Daniel Sroka who, at very different times, helped provide feedback and fresh eyes. (Delicious, fresh eyes.)
There is Cory Doctorow, who fired me up on the topic of Copyfight more than anyone I can think of, and M.T. Anderson, who made a path for this story before it was written.
There is John Luther Adams, whose music is the only thing I can listen to while writing these days.
And then there is my family, who have supported me through everything—especially Evia, who inspired me to warn the world away from the one depicted in this book. And, most of all, my wife, Jenn, who knows too well the many ways she made it possible for me to write, and stay grounded, and move forward until I had something good.