She no longer needed the impossible. It was time to put away the reaching, grasping, arrogant part of herself, the part that had hungered for more than her husband’s salvation. She knew where that led. Dr. Nizamiev had done her a favor.
Whether it was intentional or not.
“I am well,” she said. She turned her head, kissed his palm.
He smiled, and did not mention their visitor. He might not even have seen her pass. Jane did not bother to ask as he toed off his shoes.
“Don’t you have patients?”
“I’ve asked Mr. Lowell to close up the surgery for a few hours,” he said. “I need rest.” He levered himself into bed next to her. “I’ve been doing far too much thinking today.”
“Thinking? About what?”
“What do you think of moving to Camhurst?” he asked.
“Camhurst? Why?”
“You could attend university, study mathematics. And Vingh has sent me word of a surgical posting. We could leave Larrenton, Lindridge Hall, all of it behind. Start over.”
Jane hesitated, thinking of bombs and basements, but her old fears felt smaller now, a marble bumping across the floorboards until stopping, silent, in a dark corner. She thought, too, of cells and floating magicians. Of being so close to Dr. Nizamiev. But she was not a magician anymore. She would keep her silence. There was no danger.
“That sounds wonderful,” she said.
Augustine kissed her forehead and drew her closer, mindful of her injury. She nestled in against him and closed her eyes, and knew that she was happy.
The lights guttered out.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I STARTED WRITING The Death of Jane Lawrence almost five years ago, and it has gone through several iterations, getting weirder, bloodier, and more personal each time. While some parts remain recognizable, others have changed astronomically between then and now. Five years is a long time to work on a single book （at least for me）， and while I never gave up, I also know I likely wouldn’t have gotten this book into your hands without a lot of help over that time.
So first, I need to thank my early readers. Ellis Bray and Kiki Nguyen, you were both invaluable for helping me diagnose the major fault in the first version of this project. Augustine will never be the same, thanks to you two. Emma Mieko “Screaming T-Pose Renton” Candon and Shyela Sanders, you both have read through multiple iterations and sat up late with me while I ranted and theorized and finally made my way to this final result. Thank you for being my rubber ducks and therapists.
To everybody who has cheered me on from the sidelines, I needed that ongoing support more than you can know. Neme, Thea, El, Casey, Val, Seth, and Caitlin—without you being absolutely feral in your support, this would have been a much harder and lonelier road.
I learned to write largely through text-based role-playing, so I owe a huge thank-you to all of my role-play partners over the years. In particular, I want to thank Krystal Loh and Dan Rodgers: through our games, I created and refined the character who would become Dr. Avdotya Semyonovna Nizamiev. She’s very grateful to you for her existence.
To my agent, Caitlin McDonald: you pushed and pushed at me to make this book as good as I could make it, and then found it the best home it could have had. Thank you for listening to me cry and rip my hair out every time I hit a wall, and for the blood, sweat, and tears you poured into helping me bring it these last few miles to the finish line.
Thank you to my editor, Sylvan Creekmore, for seeing exactly what I loved so much about this book and loving it, too. You’ve made this book the most true and thorough version of itself. Thank you, also, to the art and production team for supporting the text with absolutely gorgeous design and art, and to the rest of the SMP team for bringing the book out into the world.
Thank you also to my aunt, Dr. Kristin Cowperthwaite—you took my out-of-the-blue question about how a Victorian-era abdominal surgery would go, and my vague ideas of just what might have gone wrong with the patient to begin with, and not only sent back a thorough answer regarding techniques and risks but also coined the phrase “the location of the magical insult,” which I have delighted in and cherished ever since. You rock, thank you so much. I hope I didn’t get too many things wrong in surgeries I didn’t have you consult on!
Elsa Sjunneson, you are both an incredibly skilled sensitivity editor and a fantastic friend. I’m so glad we got to work together on this project.
I owe much of my understanding of why gothic horror is so effective and enticing to Jeanette Ng, who reminded me that the power is in letting the protagonist desire, in every sense of the word.