04. Into the Fire [Night Prince].pdf

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Dedication

To everyone who’s wanted to see Dracula

(excuse me, VLAD) get a happily-ever-after.

Acknowledgments

I’

m going to break with the normal format by being long-winded and

personal on this Acknowledgments, so feel free to skip. However, what I’m

not going to change is my thanking God first. (I’ve done that for the past

fourteen books, and I’m not going to stop now, especially considering this

past year.) My mother died over New Year’s, and since she hadn’t been well

for a while, I thought I had been “braced” for her death. I’ve since learned

that some things can never be braced for. Right as I was coming to terms with

the depth of my grief and the never-before-experienced writer’s block that

came along with it, my father had four near-death illnesses within three

months. If that wasn’t enough, even my dog required multiple surgeries.

The release of Into the Fire was therefore delayed while I put myself back

together enough to write. More than once, I thought the title was an apt

description for my emotional state. However, I did not go through all this

alone. The last line from the poem “Footprints” says it perfectly: “During

your time of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it

was then that I carried you.” Thank you, Jesus, for all the times you carried

me, both this year and every year before it.

I also need to thank my husband for his incredible support, not to mention

my family and friends. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t thank my longtime editor,

Erika Tsang, and my agent, Nancy Yost, for all their hard work. But, since I

warned you that I was going to be long-winded and personal, I’m going to get

back to talking about my mother. For starters, she had a wicked sense of

humor, so I can almost hear her saying, “Oh, now that I’m dead, you’re

finally going to say nice things about me to your readers?” Well, better late

than never, Mom! *wink*

In all seriousness, she was my first fan back when I started writing poetry

at age eleven. I showed her my poems, but because I was shy, I also asked her