Armageddon Outta Here - The World of Skulduggery Pleasant. Derek Landy

Чтение книги онлайн.

      lack Annis didn’t like living in a ditch, but times were changing, and the England she had known as a child was long gone. She narrowed her eyes – left eye blue, right eye green – and tried to remember what she had been like as a child. It had been so long ago she had quite forgotten.

      Had she laughed and played, like other girls? Had she giggled and joked, and run through the meadows and the fields of Leicester, letting the sunshine warm her skin? Highly unlikely. The more she thought about it, the more she remembered. She couldn’t recall any friends, nor could she recall any giggling or joking. She seemed to remember a lot of screaming, though. Oh, yes, a whole lot of screaming.

      Annis walked to the cave mouth, her feet crunching on bones and human remains. It was almost morning. She hated mornings. She hated the morning, the noon, the early afternoon, the late afternoon, and bright evenings. She hated a lot of things.

      What had she been thinking about? Oh, yes, her childhood. Now that was a time of her life that had outstayed its welcome. Her parents had been terrified of her. Her father had thought she was the spawn of the devil, but she’d always taken that as a compliment. Whenever she got angry her fingernails would grow long and pointed, and her teeth became jagged and her skin turned blue. She’d never really understood why her skin turned blue, or what purpose it served, but her parents used it as an early-warning system. Annis’s temper was not a pretty sight.

      All in all, it had probably surprised no one when she started eating people. Her parents’ friends had probably nodded when they’d heard, maybe shrugged, saying something like, “Aye, doesn’t surprise me one bit, her eatin’ people. Always had that look about her, didn’t she?” Black Annis didn’t mind. By the time she was twenty she’d eaten everyone in her village, parents and all.

      That had been … how long ago? Two hundred years, maybe. Now she had streaks of grey in her black matted hair, and her face was lined and she wore her age like an ugly shawl. This was her life – living in a cave that opened into a ditch, kept awake during the day by the tractors that ploughed the field above.

      A rat scampered in from the ditch outside and she snatched it up. It was thin and mangy and squirmed in her grip, but she hadn’t eaten in a week, so she bit down and the rat squealed and its warm blood ran down her throat.

      She munched through it, not bothering with the tail, which was always too chewy, and dropped the remains at her feet. She coughed up a hairball and spat it out, then wandered back to the fire at the centre of the cave.

      She heard Scrannel returning, heard the clanging of his armour, and she allowed a spark of hope to permeate her usual dour humour. He was hurrying. Maybe that meant he’d been successful. Maybe he was struggling with someone. She heard him lose his footing and splash and crash into the ditch. She didn’t care who he’d brought with him – child, adult, old person, she genuinely didn’t care. She was regretting eating the rat now – she should have held off a little longer. She heard Scrannel hiss in pain – either the meal had struck him, or he’d become tangled in the thorns again. Black Annis licked her lips, picturing a plump child, maybe ten years old. She was starving.

      But when Scrannel appeared at the cave mouth, he was alone. Disappointment became a weight in the pit of Annis’s stomach.

      “Hullo,” Scrannel said, his armour dripping with ditch water. “I’m back.” It wasn’t real armour, of course. He had made it from an assortment of tin products and segments of corrugated iron. It was held together by nuts and bolts and pieces of frayed string. It clanked when he walked. It clanked when he didn’t walk. It just clanked.

      “Where’s my dinner?” Black Annis asked, even though the СКАЧАТЬ