Child of the night book
Children of the Night
A Vampire Novel
Author: Dan Simmons
$22.99
Trade Paperbacke-BookFormat
About This Book
"Simmons writes like a hot-rodding angel." –Stephen King
An evil legacy comes to life in this classic and ultimately human novel about believable vampires, featuring a brand-new...
Book Details
"Simmons writes like a hot-rodding angel." –Stephen King
An evil legacy comes to life in this classic and ultimately human novel about believable vampires, featuring a brand-new introduction by Dan Simmons. Children of the Night will take you to a place that no one knows—yet all of us fear.
In a desolate orphanage in post-Communist Romania, a desperately ill infant is given the wrong blood transfusion—and flourishes rather than dies. For immunologist Kate Neuman, the infant's immune system may hold the key to cure cancer and AIDS. Kate adopts the baby and takes him home to the States. But baby Joshua holds a link to an ancient clan and their legendary leader—Vlad Tsepes, the original Dracula – whose agents kidnap the child. Against impossible odds and vicious enemies– both human and vampire – Kate and her ally, Father Mike O'Rourke, steal into Romania to get her baby back.
"A mesmerizing tour through the ghostly, gray tatters of Romania." –Publishers Weekly
Imprint Publisher
St. Martin's Griffin
ISBN
9781250009852
In The News
“A mesmerizing tour through the ghostly, gray tatters of Romania.” —Publishers Weekly
“Simmons gives a chilling description of post-Ceausescu Romania and neatly ties the vampire legend into political history to create a new and clever twist to the idea of the vampire's craving for blood.” —Library Journal
“His best novel ever… Toothsomely well written.” —Kirkus
“Brilliant ideas… The most rigorous and interesting scientific rationale for vampirism I've ever seen… You keep turning the pages.
” —Locus
“Simmons writes like a hot-rodding angel, loading his American nightmare with scares, suspense, and a sweet, surprising nostalgia. One of those rare must-read books, I am in awe of Dan Simmons.” —Stephen King on The Summer of Night
“It stands with the best of King and Straub in the traditional modern horror genre.” —Seattle Post Intelligencer on The Summer of Night
“Impressive...combines beautiful writing and suspense into a book for which Dan Simmons deserves the bestseller status of King and Koontz.” —Denver Post on The Summer of Night
“An outstandingly eerie and truly horrifying tale, a page-turner of the first order.” —Dallas Times-Herald on The Summer of Night
“One can only wonder what Simmons will do next, now that he's shown us he can do everything the best writers in horror and science fiction can do.” —Philadelphia Inquirer on The Summer of Night
“If you like Stephen King's It and The Body, you will be enthralled by Summer of Night.
” —Rocky Mountain News on The Summer of Night
“Blood-freezing scenarios... the true source of Simmons' terrifying vision lies in his uncanny ability to tap into that primal dread that every child knows and every adult denies; the monster under the bed, the darkness in the closet, the not-quite-human face at the window.... If you are easily frightened, don't buy this book.” —Los Angeles Daily News on The Summer of Night
“A superior read in the genre.” —Kirkus Reviews on The Summer of Night
“An outstandingly eerie horror story about a group of Midwestern boys stalked by an ancient evil.” —Publishers Weekly on The Summer of Night
“Simmons, winner of several prestigious awards for science fiction and horror ranks with the best the genre has to offer... The children are well drawn and affecting in their bravery.” —Library Journal on The Summer of Night
“Skilled writer par excellence Dan Simmons takes a subject straight from Stephen King land and runs with it… Simmons keeps the tension high.
” —Locus on The Summer of Night
“One of the best supernatural chillers in years... Summer of Night promises to mark the dawn of a great horror novelist.” —Flint Journal on The Summer of Night
“Lots of frights in the ‘Night'… The kind of story that has readers locking doors and checking under their own beds even as the characters in the book go through their own nightly ritual.” —Ocala Star-Banner on The Summer of Night
“For those of us to whom good writing is everything, the name Dan Simmons bears great weight.” —Harlan Ellison on The Summer of Night
“Simmons is not only good, he's versatile.” —Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine on The Summer of Night
“A compelling writer.” —F. Paul Wilson, author of The Keep, on The Summer of Night
About the Creators
$22.99
Trade Paperbacke-BookFormat
A CHILD'S GOOD NIGHT BOOK
by Drew Daywalt ; illustrated by Oliver Jeffers ‧ RELEASE DATE: June 27, 2013
Duncan wants to draw, but instead of crayons, he finds a stack of letters listing the crayons’ demands in this humorous tale.
Red is overworked, laboring even on holidays. Gray is exhausted from coloring expansive spaces (elephants, rhinos and whales). Black wants to be considered a color-in color, and Peach? He’s naked without his wrapper! This anthropomorphized lot amicably requests workplace changes in hand-lettered writing, explaining their work stoppage to a surprised Duncan. Some are tired, others underutilized, while a few want official titles. With a little creativity and a lot of color, Duncan saves the day. Jeffers delivers energetic and playful illustrations, done in pencil, paint and crayon. The drawings are loose and lively, and with few lines, he makes his characters effectively emote. Clever spreads, such as Duncan’s “white cat in the snow” perfectly capture the crayons’ conundrum, and photographic representations of both the letters and coloring pages offer another layer of texture, lending to the tale’s overall believability.
A comical, fresh look at crayons and color .
(Picture book. 3-7)
- 27
Pub Date: June 27, 2013
ISBN: 978-0-399-25537-3
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Philomel
Review Posted Online: April 15, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2013
Categories: CHILDREN'S CONCEPTS
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Dampier.
Child of the Night read online free Read online Barb Handy: Dampier. Child of the Night "the entire text of the e-book is completely free (entirely full version). In some cases, there is a summary. City: St. Petersburg, year of issue: 2010, ISBN: 978-5-9985-0384-9, publisher: Azbuka-klassika, category: Fantasy / in Russian. Description of the work, (foreword) as well as visitor reviews are available on the portal. The Lib Cat library - LibCat.ru was created for those who like to look through a good book and offers a wide range of genres:
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Dampier. Child of the Night: summary, description and annotation
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Dhampir, the child of a human and a vampire, cannot count on a quiet life. Vampires, however, too. They are such relatives - bitterer than garlic. And when immortality becomes the stake in the struggle, the conflict quickly outgrows the boundaries of the family. However, Magier did not remember her parents and from an early age despised superstitious simpletons who believed in otherworldly nonsense. The fear of werewolves, vampires, ghosts was unknown to her, but became an excellent source of income - Magyer has a reputation as the best vampire hunter.
Ignorant peasants do not realize that the terrible battles with evil spirits that they happen to witness are skillfully staged by the huntress herself. Together with her friend, a half-breed elf named Lisil, and his amazing dog named Malets, she wanders from village to village, fighting ghouls and dreaming of a quiet life as a mistress of a seaside tavern. Her dream is destined to come true, and at the same time her destiny, which Magier herself has no idea about ...
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DAMPIP. Child of the Night
PROLOGUE
E the village might have been considered deserted, if thin wisps of smoke did not rise from the chimneys, dissolving into the darkness. All the doors were bolted, all the windows tightly closed with shutters, so that the shaky reflections of candles barely filtered through the rare cracks.
There was no one to knead the dirt on the only village street, and therefore no one saw how a vague shadow rushed to the house on the outskirts, near the forest. nine0003
Near the house the shadow stopped, hesitated. There was no need to hide anymore, and the indistinct silhouette stirred and straightened up, changing before our eyes. Legs in high boots, long arms, a flexible thin torso, a head with eyes burning like coals, emerged from the incorporeal emptiness. The night-comer nimbly climbed the tree and jumped from the branch onto the thatched roof.
Spread out on the roof, he crawled along the wall of the house. Then he stopped, hovering over the shuttered window. He stuck a finger with a long nail, more like a claw, between the doors. And he scratched, pulled, loosened, until the bolt gave way with an unexpectedly loud click. The alien froze, listening for an answering sound from within. Without waiting for anything, he jerked open the shutters. nine0003
A frail old woman was lying on a bed in the room.
Gray, tightly braided braids rested on a linen pillow yellowed with age. A patchwork quilt, once in scarlet squares, but now hopelessly faded, covered the old woman up to her chin.
The night creature stuck its head out the window:
— May I come in?
The whisper was booming, like an echo flying over a deserted plain.
The old woman barely perceptibly stirred in her sleep.
The whisper trembled with thirst and impatience:
— Mother, please… can I come in?
She groaned, turned to face the window. The white scar on the old forehead was almost lost among the wrinkles. Without opening her eyes, she murmured sleepily:
— Yes... yes, come in...
The night visitor crawled feet first through the upper architraves, squeezed through the window and silently jumped to the bedroom floor. Stepping over to the bed, he nimbly reached out and placed his hand over the old woman's mouth.
She woke up, and for a moment her eyes widened in horror, but only for a moment, and then she froze, fixing her glassy gaze on the burning eyes of the alien.
He loosened his grip and pressed his mouth to the old woman's neck. Silence fell in the bedroom. It seemed like time had stopped. nine0003
Suddenly the alien looked up and stared at the open window. There was a dark spot on the old woman's neck. The night killer again leaned towards the victim, but froze. Turning his head like an owl, he again stared at the window, listening attentively.
Outside, from the village street came the sound of footsteps. The stranger silently rushed to the window.
A girl in leather armor, brown tight-fitting trousers and boots made of soft leather was slowly walking down the street. In one hand she carried a peg, in the other - a long knife, with which she chipped and sharpened the peg as she went. A short, curved saber in a worn leather scabbard dangled at her hip. The night was too dark for human eyes, but when the girl stepped out of the shadow of a neighboring house, the stranger saw that her hair was dark with red sparks, and her skin was young - a girl in her early twenties.
Without the slightest fear or even alertness, she walked through the village, just as diligently sharpening the peg as she went. nine0003
- Huntress! the alien hissed, having fun from the bottom of his heart.
This sight was so absurd and pitiful that he could not help but laugh silently. Still laughing, he jumped out of the window and quickly, like a spider, climbed up the wall of the house to the roof. And as an incorporeal, shapeless shadow he disappeared into the night forest.
CHAPTER 1
Since the sun had long since set when Magier entered yet another miserable Stravinskaya village. She barely looked around. Peasants everywhere live the same way. During these six years, their dull, ugly dwellings became so familiar that Magier only remembered their number out of habit. Few people lived in this village, obviously less than a hundred and most likely a little more than fifty. At this late hour, no one from the locals dared stick their noses out, although Magier, passing by the houses, heard the creaking of doors or window shutters: some of the locals secretly glanced after her.
In addition to these sounds, in the silence of the night, only the grinding of a hunting knife was heard, with which Magier sharpened a peg the length of an elbow as she walked. nine0003
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Discussion, reviews about the book “Dhampir.
Child of the Night "and just the readers' own opinions. Leave your comments, write what you think about the work, its meaning or main characters. Indicate what specifically you liked and what you didn't, and why you think so. nine0003 90,000 Kate Turnan - Child Night Read online free
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Enchanted - 15
Prologue
without three three five minutes. In three minutes everything will start, thought Morgan Rowlands, picking up a heavy mug of freshly brewed tea. She could hardly stop herself from taking a sip, preventing the next screams, because she had not yet learned how to heal burned tongues. "Cold the fire," she whispered, running her left hand counterclockwise over the tea. She took an experimental sip, trying to melt the choking lump in her throat. nine0003
She gazed out the mirrored window of the small tea shop in Aberystwyth, Wales, where she and Hunter Niall had agreed to meet.
It was already dark outside, although it was only five o'clock. After living in Ireland for three years, Morgan was already accustomed to the early darkness under the weight of heavy clouds, but still she sometimes missed the absolute cold and dense, iridescent snow of upstate New York in which she grew up.
Heavy raindrops began to taste through the window. Morgan took a deep breath, the weather outside fully reflecting her inner state. She usually greeted the rain as the main reason why Ireland and Wales were so incredibly lush and green. Tonight seemed dreary, gloomy, depressing mainly because she was about to part with the person she loved most in the world, her muir beata dan. Your kindred spirit. nine0003
Her stomach twisted, her arms tensed. Hunter. Oh Goddess Hunter. It's been almost four months since they were able to meet at the airport in Toronto - within only six hours. And three months before that, in Germany. They had two whole days together then.
Morgan shook her head and exhaled slowly.
Relax. If I relax and let my thoughts go, the Goddess will show me where to go. If I relax and let things just be, then my whole life will become clear.
She closed her eyes and consciously relaxed every muscle from her head down to her icy toes in her wet boots. Soon the soothing sense of warmth expanded in her, and she felt some of the tension leave her body.
There was a ringing of copper rattles against the door, accompanied by a momentary gust of wind. Morgan opened her eyes in time to see a tall, heartbreakingly familiar figure blocking the light. Despite everything, her heart expanded with joy, and a smile spread across her face. She stood as he stepped closer, his angular face lighting up as he looked at her. He smiled, and looked with his open, welcoming face carved right in front of her. nine0003
“Hi Morgan. I'm sorry I'm late," Hunter said in his English accent, dulled by weariness.
She hugged him tightly with her arms, not caring that his long tweed coat was soaked in freezing rain.
Hunter leaned down, Morgan stood on tiptoe, and their lips met in a kiss exactly halfway between them, as they did every time. As they separated, Morgan ran her finger down his cheek. “How many years, how many winters,” she said in a planted voice. Hunter's pupils instantly narrowed, so what if, as a blood witch, he had the ability to recognize any emotions, he just knew Morgan more deeply than anyone else. Morgan cleared her throat and sat up. Without taking his eyes off her, Hunter sat down too, involuntarily splattering the linoleum around the chair. He took off his old-fashioned tweed cap and ruffled his fine, blond hair with a hand. nine0003
Morgan glared at him, and not a single detail escaped her gaze. His face was pale from winter, and his eyes shone with an icy green light, like the Irish Sea three blocks away. Never had Morgan seen his hair grow out so much.
"Good to see you," Hunter said, smiling at the obvious understatement. The table was in contact with his knee until it completely fell on him.
"You too," Morgan replied. Was there an inner pain on her face? She felt as if the pain of her decision should surround her like an aura, visible to anyone who knew her. “I ordered tea for two – would you like some?” nine0003
"Please," he said, and Morgan poured him a full mug of tea.
Hunter got up and hung his wet coat over the back of a chair. He took a long sip of tea and shrugged his shoulders. Morgan knew he had just come from Norway.
What to say? How to say? She had been rehearsing this scene for the past two weeks, but now that she was here to see it through, she had a burning desire to rebel against what she herself wanted to do. And in a sense, that's right. The severance of relations with one's muir beata dan is equal to the struggle with fate. nine0003
It's been four years since she first met Hunter, Morgan reflected. She absentmindedly twirled the silver ring on the ring finger of her right hand. Hunter gave it to her when she was seventeen and he was nineteen.
Now he is twenty-three years old and a guy who looks no older than an advanced lanky teenager, a "genius boy" witch, the youngest member of the International Council of Witches.
And she was no longer the naive, lovestruck lanky schoolgirl who had just discovered that she was a blood witch and who was struggling to learn how to control her incredible powers. She had come a long way in the few years since the summer of her junior year of high school, when she first learned that there were actually several surviving members of her mother's coven of witches, Belwicket. She was spending the summer studying in Scotland when they arrived, finally having a chance to show herself after the dark tide had been defeated and more importantly, Kyrian Macewon had been stripped of his powers. They told her how they survived the destruction of their coven by fleeing to Scotland, where they hid for decades. When they learned of Morgan's existence, they arrived to ask for her help in rebuilding the coven that their families had formed for hundreds of years.
