Time of Blood. Robin Jarvis
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Название: Time of Blood

Автор: Robin Jarvis

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Учебная литература

Серия: The Witching Legacy

isbn: 9781780317342

isbn:

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      First published in Great Britain in 2017 by Egmont UK Limited

      The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

      Text and illustrations copyright © 2017 Robin Jarvis

      The moral rights of the author/illustrator have been asserted

      First e-book edition 2017

      ISBN 978 1 4052 8025 9

      Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1734 2

       www.egmont.co.uk

      A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

      Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont is not responsible for content hosted by third parties. Please be aware that online content can be subject to change and websites can contain content that is unsuitable for children. We advise that all children are supervised when using the internet.

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       Take nae fright,

       nor shiver wi’dread.

       There’s nowt to fear,

       lest the Esk run red.

       Also available

      THE POWER OF DARK

      THE DEVIL’S PAINTBOX

       Now available as an Egmont Modern Classic

      THE WHITBY WITCHES

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      CONTENTS

       Cover

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Epigraph

       Front series promotional page

       2

       3

       4

       5

       6

       7

       8

       9

       10

       FUR AND FEATHERS

       Back series promotional page

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      In the shadow of the West Cliff, the fog lay thick over the broad sands, masking the margin between shore and sea. Its webbed fingers caressed the stone piers that reached out into the calm waters, coiling up around the lighthouses, absorbing the guiding beams from the great lamps and diffusing them in a wide milky spread before the harbour mouth.

      The wooden bathing machines, which were stationed overnight at the foot of the cliff, appeared to float on the undulating mist like an armada of poky, white-washed sheds. On the beach before them, two small figures wended their way through the fog. One sported a broad-brimmed oilskin hat, the other a string of seashells about her brow; both wore ganseys of different designs. They were aufwaders – the half-forgotten fisherfolk of Whitby legend, who had dwelt on that coast long before humans settled there, but who now lived quietly and secretly in caves beneath the East Cliff.

      Nettie Weever leaned against a large cartwheel of the end bathing machine and waited while her friend, Hesper Gull, caught up with her. Hesper was revelling in the fog, whisking and flailing her short arms through it, creating eddying waves. The deep wrinkles of Nettie’s brow bunched together as she watched her friend’s carefree play. Hesper had been so much happier these past few weeks – everyone in the tribe had noticed and the reason was known to all. Silas, her husband, was missing.

      Silas Gull hadn’t been seen for over a fortnight. He had always been prone to wandering off and spending time away from the caves on some sly venture, but he had never been absent this long. He was such an unpleasant, scowling and untrustworthy rogue, it was a relief not to encounter him in the tunnels and the other aufwaders understood why his mistreated wife was starting to feel her old self again. There were of course those poisonous tongues who suggested Hesper had done away with her husband, but she was such a gentle creature that they weren’t taken seriously.

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      Nettie almost hoped, for her friend’s sake, that Silas had indeed suffered some fatal mishap. Hesper deserved better than that bullying villain for a husband and she wished she had done more to dissuade her from marrying him those many years ago. Silas had made her life wretched and, though he never struck her, no doubt fearing what her brother Abel would do to him, he crushed her spirit with more subtle cruelties. It was wonderful to see Hesper so cheerful and hear her laughter again.

      Nettie lifted her wind-browned face to the night sky. Recently she had been reminded of those far-off days of Hesper’s courtship by the sound of chilling cries, high above the humans’ clifftop dwellings.

      She СКАЧАТЬ