On the Edge
(Sprache: Englisch)
Step into a whole new world in the first Novel of the Edge from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Kate Daniels series.
The Edge lies between worlds, on the border between the Broken, where people shop at Wal-Mart and magic is a fairy...
The Edge lies between worlds, on the border between the Broken, where people shop at Wal-Mart and magic is a fairy...
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Step into a whole new world in the first Novel of the Edge from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Kate Daniels series.The Edge lies between worlds, on the border between the Broken, where people shop at Wal-Mart and magic is a fairy tale and the Weird, where blueblood aristocrats rule, changelings roam, and the strength of your magic can change your destiny...
Rose Drayton thought if she practiced her magic, she could build a better life for herself. But things didn t turn out the way she d planned, and now she works an off-the-books job in the Broken just to survive. Then Declan Camarine, a blueblood noble straight out of the deepest part of the Weird, comes into her life, determined to have Rose (and her power).
But when a flood of creatures hungry for magic invade the Edge, Declan and Rose must overcome their differences and work together to destroy them or the beasts will devour the Edge and everyone in it...
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"Rosie!" Grandpa's bellow shook the foundation of the house."Why me?" Rose wiped the dish soap suds from her hands with a kitchen towel, swiped the crossbow from the hook, and stomped onto the porch.
"Roooosie!"
She kicked the screen door open. He towered in the yard, a huge shaggy bear of a man, deranged eyes opened wide, tangled beard caked with blood and quivering grayish shreds. She leveled the crossbow at him. Drunk as hell again.
"What is it?"
"I want to go to the pub. I want a pint." His voice slipped into a whine. "Gimme some money!"
"No."
He hissed at her, swaying unsteadily on his feet. "Rosie! This is your last chance to give me a dollar!"
She sighed and shot him. The bolt bit between the eyes and Grandpa toppled onto his back like a log. His legs drummed the ground.
Rose rested the butt of her crossbow on her hip. "All right, come out."
The two boys slipped from behind the huge oak spreading its branches over the yard. Both were filthy with reddish mud, sap, and the other unidentifiable substances an eight- and a ten-year-old could find in the Wood. A jagged scratch decorated Georgie's neck and brown pine straw stuck out of his blond hair. Red welts marked the skin between Jack's knuckles. He saw her looking at his hands. His eyes got big, amber irises flaring yellow, and he hid his fists behind his back.
"How many times do I have to say it: don't touch the ward stones. Look at Grandpa Cletus! He's been eating dog brains again, and now he's drunk. It will take me half an hour to hose him off."
"We miss him," Georgie said.
She sighed. "I miss him, too. But he's no good to anybody drunk. Come on, you two, let's take him back to his shed. Help me get the legs."
Together they dragged Grandpa's inert form back to the shed at the edge of the clearing and dumped him on his sawdust. Rose uncoiled the metal chain from the
... mehr
corner, pulled it across the shed, locked the collar on Grandpa's neck, and peeled back his left eyelid to check the pupil. No red yet. Good shot he would be out for hours.
Rose put her foot on his chest, grasped the bolt, and pulled it out with a sharp tug. She still remembered Grandpa Cletus as he was, a tall, dapper man, uncanny with his rapier, his voice flavored with a light Scottish brogue. Even as old as he was, he would still win against Dad one out of three times in a swordfight. Now he was this . . . this thing. She sighed. It hurt to look at him, but there was nothing to be done about it. As long as Georgie lived, so did Grandpa Cletus.
The boys brought the hose. She turned it on, set the sprayer on jet, and leveled the stream at Grandpa until all the blood and dog meat were gone. She had never quite figured out how "going down to the pub" equaled chasing stray dogs and eating their brains, but when Grandpa got out of his ward circle, no mutt was safe. By the time she was done washing him, the hole in his forehead had closed. When Georgie raised things from the dead, he didn't just give them life. He made them almost indestructible.
Rose stepped out of the shed, locked the door behind her, and dragged the hose back to the porch. Her skin prickled as she crossed the invisible boundary: the kids must've put the ward stones back. She squinted at the grass. There they were, a line of small, seemingly ordinary rocks, spaced three, four feet from each other. Each rock held a small magic charge. Together they created an enchanted barrier, strong enough to keep Grandpa in the shed if he broke the chain again.
Rose waved the boys to the side and raised the hose. "Your turn."
They flinched at the cold water. She washed them off methodically, from top to bottom. As the mud melted from Jack's feet, she saw a two-inch rip in his Skechers. Rose dropped the hose.
"Jack!"
He cringed.
"Those are forty-five-dollar shoes!"
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Rose put her foot on his chest, grasped the bolt, and pulled it out with a sharp tug. She still remembered Grandpa Cletus as he was, a tall, dapper man, uncanny with his rapier, his voice flavored with a light Scottish brogue. Even as old as he was, he would still win against Dad one out of three times in a swordfight. Now he was this . . . this thing. She sighed. It hurt to look at him, but there was nothing to be done about it. As long as Georgie lived, so did Grandpa Cletus.
The boys brought the hose. She turned it on, set the sprayer on jet, and leveled the stream at Grandpa until all the blood and dog meat were gone. She had never quite figured out how "going down to the pub" equaled chasing stray dogs and eating their brains, but when Grandpa got out of his ward circle, no mutt was safe. By the time she was done washing him, the hole in his forehead had closed. When Georgie raised things from the dead, he didn't just give them life. He made them almost indestructible.
Rose stepped out of the shed, locked the door behind her, and dragged the hose back to the porch. Her skin prickled as she crossed the invisible boundary: the kids must've put the ward stones back. She squinted at the grass. There they were, a line of small, seemingly ordinary rocks, spaced three, four feet from each other. Each rock held a small magic charge. Together they created an enchanted barrier, strong enough to keep Grandpa in the shed if he broke the chain again.
Rose waved the boys to the side and raised the hose. "Your turn."
They flinched at the cold water. She washed them off methodically, from top to bottom. As the mud melted from Jack's feet, she saw a two-inch rip in his Skechers. Rose dropped the hose.
"Jack!"
He cringed.
"Those are forty-five-dollar shoes!"
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Ilona Andrews
Ilona Andrews is the pseudonym for a husband-and-wife writing team, Gordon and Ilona. They currently reside in Texas with their two children and numerous dogs and cats. The couple are the #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors of the Kate Daniels and Kate Daniels World novels as well as The Edge and Hidden Legacy series. They also write the Innkeeper Chronicles series, which they post as a free weekly serial. For a complete list of their books, fun extras, and Innkeeper installments, please visit their website at www.ilona-andrews.com.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Ilona Andrews
- 2009, 336 Seiten, Maße: 17,2 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Ace Books
- ISBN-10: 0441017800
- ISBN-13: 9780441017805
- Erscheinungsdatum: 14.07.2011
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Praise for Ilona Andrews and the Novels of the EdgeIlona Andrews's books are guaranteed good reads. Patricia Briggs, #1 New York Times bestselling author
One of the brightest voices in urban fantasy...Ilona Andrews delivers only the best. Jeaniene Frost, New York Times bestselling author
Engaging. Publishers Weekly
A thoroughly entertaining blend of humor, action, misdirection, and romance. Locus
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