On the Verge (34 page)

The study door creaked open, and Freya grabbed a hammer and nail from her back pocket and hastily pounded the little piece of metal into the solid oak paneling of Beldame’s inner sanctum. Then Rusty handed her the portrait and she quickly hung it on the wall, being sure to touch it as little as possible. They both stood back and looked at the old woman staring at them with that impossible spark of misery and rage animating her black eyes. Then they turned away, and without a second glance, left the study and the house, locking up the heavy front door behind them.

The portrait of Beldame didn’t change. It was only oil on canvas after all. But for a moment in a swiftly shifting interplay of light and dark, the painted Beldame seemed to scream, a silent cry that reverberated throughout the house. Then there was only silence, silence and a collection of which she was now a part, a woman subsumed by her desires. The house creaked, the dust settled, and the painting of Imogen Beldame became just that: a series of brush stokes on a flat panel. No spark, no glimpse of emotion, only oil and pigment and cloth. An object among objects.

This novel is the realization of a lifelong dream, and it wouldn’t be complete without taking a moment to thank the people that played a part in its creation.

Thank you, Mom, for being my biggest fan and always believing in my writing.

Thank you, Dad, for introducing me to the wonderful literary worlds of fantasy and science fiction and instilling in me an early love of reading.

Thank you both for being the greatest parents a girl could ask for.

Thank you, Elisha, for having the patience and wherewithal to read one of the earliest iterations of On the Verge and the insight and dedication to read the last.

Thank you to my friends and family who always showed interest and, more importantly, faith in this crazy project. Your kind words and encouragement meant the world to me along the way.

Thank you to my editor, Steven Bauer, for your perceptive analysis and spot-on critique of my writing. On the Verge is a much stronger novel because of your expertise.

Thank you to my cover designer, Daniel Cullen, for On the Verge’s amazing cover. It exceeded my every expectation.

Thank you, Polgarus Studio, for making the onerous task of digital formatting smooth and straightforward.

Thank you, Nora, for your unadulterated enthusiasm, your verve, and your wit. I never stop being inspired by you.

Thank you, Rosalee, for the challenge and motivation that comes with writing while pregnant and with a newborn. I started this book before you were born. I finished it as you began to sit up and engage with the world. This story is done, but yours is just beginning.

And finally, thank you, Igor, for your unconditional love and support. I’m so glad I get to share this life with you. Love you. Always.

I'm a lifelong resident of Seattle. I married my Russia-born-America-raised high school sweetheart, and we have a four year old and a new little one born in February.

I like coffee shops, bookstores, dancing in my living room and singing in my car. The opening scene of Up always makes me cry. The Three Amigos always makes me laugh. Fashion magazines, croissants, and long, long baths are my guilty pleasures. They might occur separately or together. I prefer boxing classes to yoga, and I get some of my best ideas when I'm running. I loved school and spent more time than one really should getting a business degree in marketing and a master's in art history. In an ideal world I'd go to bed at 2am and wake up at 10am. I've never been an early bird, and I feel strongly that alarm clocks kill dreams.

Learn more about me and read my blog, Scriven by Garen, at
garenglazier.com
.

And follow me on Twitter:
@GarenGlazier