The Shibboleth (46 page)

I see someone standing off to the side, in the lee of a tree, shadowed and silent.

I leave Quincrux—it will take a long while for me to think of him as Priest—and push my way through the gathered crowd out into the sleet. Slipping, wheeling, I approach the man.

“Thank you, Mr. Negata.”

He blinks and then raises his shoulders fractionally, lets them fall.

“I did nothing,” he says. Each word separate, like bubbles rising in oil.

“Well, I appreciate what you didn't do. Namely, killing me.”

He shakes his head. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was frowning. “I do not kill.”

“I'm glad of that.” He remains silent, so I say, “Will you stay?”

“For the moment.”

“We need you, I think.”

He nods, noncommittal.

Once again, I'd like to thank the usual suspects: my wife for her constant support; my kids for their ceaseless queries as to when, exactly, will they be old enough to read the adventures of Shreve and Jack; my dogs for being cute and fluffy and always happy to see me; my agent for her diligence and patience with me; my editor Andrew Karre for having the sense to acquire
The Twelve-Fingered Boy
and then, when it turned out that my first title for this book—
Incarcerado
—would not work, providing me with the truly perfect title, the title it was meant to have,
The Shibboleth.

I'd like to add someone to that list of regulars, Amy Fitzgerald, my copy editor at Carolrhoda Lab, who brought a level of fun to her insightful comments during the massaging and polishing of this manuscript for publication.

I'd like to thank all the folks at Lerner Publishing Group for their continued enthusiasm and support. Many thanks to Lindsay Matvick, a wonderful guide to publicity and tireless proponent of my work, and Laura Rinne, who designed both the cover for this book and the
The Twelve-Fingered Boy
. I can't wait to see what Laura's got planned for
The Conformity
.

Many thanks to Dr. Beth Storm Rule for providing me with information regarding the operation of mental wards and the treatment of the adolescent committed. When I described my plot, and the ubiquitous presence of Tasers, she told me that would never fly in a real ward. I responded by saying, “Luckily, my job entails lying for profit.”

Any and all errors regarding the mental health system (or anything else) depicted in this book are solely my responsibility.

John Hornor Jacobs is the author of several novels, including
The Twelve-Fingered Boy
. He lives with his family in Arkansas. Visit him online at
www.johnhornorjacobs.com
.