The Calling - Couverture rigide

Wolfe, Inger Ash

Couverture rigide

ISBN 10 : 0151013470 ISBN 13 : 9780151013470

Editeur : Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2008

Synopsis

Book by Wolfe Inger Ash

A propos du livre

Extrait :

“Are you ready?”

“Will it taste bad, Simon?”

“It will taste absolutely dreadful,” he said, and he smiled for her. She took the cup and looked into it. It looked like a miniature swamp, swimming with bracken and bits of matter. “Drink it all. Including the solid bits. Try to chew them a little if you can bear to.”

She tilted the cup into her mouth. The herbal stew poured into her like a caustic, burning her tongue and the back of her throat. She pitched forward instinctively to spit the brew out, but he caught her with one hand against her clavicle and the other over her mouth.

“That’s it, Delia. You can do this.”

She swallowed in fits, her eyes watering. “God,” she said, her voice choked. “Is this poison?”

“No, Delia. The tea is not going to kill you. Swallow it . . . that’s it, let it go down.”

He watched her settle as the last of the tea went down her esophagus. She clamped a hand over her stomach. “My God, Simon. That was the worst one yet.”

“Can you feel it in you? Spreading?”
She looked around, as if to check that her reality was as she remembered it. She was in her living room. In the house she had lived in since her wedding day. Her sons had been born in this house, and had grown into men against the backdrop of its walls. Eric had died here. She had grown old here. She would not make it to ripe old age.

“We’ll activate the compounds now, Delia.”

“Oh, can we skip the chanting, Simon? If you don’t mind. I feel like I might throw up.”

“Every plant and mineral has its own sound signature, and if you do not bring yourself into sync with it, it won’t work. Have you not been doing the chants?”

“I’ve been doing them,” she said. “They make me feel silly.”

“They’re an essential part of the treatment. I’ll do this one with you. A head tone for belladonna and low breath drone for the hops. Come on now.” He held his hands out to her, and she took them. He lowered his head, as if in prayer, and she did the same. He breathed in deeply, and a sound began to flow from the middle of his head, from the space behind his eyes and nose. He opened his mouth and the sound flattened. Delia followed him as best she could, alternating between the high, ringing tones, and the low, breathy ones.

When they stopped, she released his hands. She actually felt warm. For the first time in months, she felt warmth in her extremities. How pleasant, she thought. She felt Simon’s hands on her shoulders, easing her back. “Thank you, Simon,” she said quietly. “This is very nice.”

He brushed her hair away from her face, and cupped his hand on her cheek. “It is you who is to be thanked,” he said. “I thank you.”

Presently, Delia closed her eyes. He listened to her breathing — low, long, soughing breaths. He lifted an eyelid, but she was profoundly asleep. He watched her for another minute, observing
her becalmed features.

He put his vials back into the valise and went into the kitchen to wash his teacup. This too he replaced in the valise. He took his Polaroid camera out and checked that there was a film pack loaded. He was too careful to have come without being absolutely sure the camera had film, but he was also too fastidious not to check again.

He laid the camera on the coffee table and went to sit beside Delia. He took her wrist in his hand and felt her pulse. It was faint, as he would have expected, but steady. He ran his fingertips along the outside of her palm, and up her pinkie, then gripped the finger and snapped it at the bottom joint. Her body jumped, but her eyes did not open. The faintest moan escaped her lips.

Présentation de l'éditeur :

There were thirteen crime-scene pictures. Dead faces set in grimaces and shouts. Faces howling, whistling, moaning, crying, hissing. Hazel pinned them to the wall and stood back. It was a silent opera of ghosts.

Detective Inspector Hazel Micallef has lived all her days in the small town of Port Dundas and is now making her way toward retirement with something less than grace. Hobbled by a bad back and a dependence on painkillers, and feeling blindsided by divorce after nearly four decades of marriage, sixty-one-year-old Hazel has only the constructive criticism of her old goat of a mother and her own sharp tongue to buoy her. But when a terminally ill Port Dundas woman is gruesomely murdered in her own home, Hazel and her understaffed department must spring to life. And as one terminally ill victim after another is found—their bodies drained of blood, their mouths sculpted into strange shapes—Hazel finds herself tracking a truly terrifying serial killer across the country while everything she was barely holding together begins to spin out of control.

Through the cacophony of her bickering staff, her unsupportive superiors, a clamoring press, the town’s rumor mill, and her own nagging doubts, Hazel can sense the dead trying to call out. But what secret do they have to share? And will she hear it before it’s too late?

In The Calling, Inger Ash Wolfe brings a compelling new voice and an irresistible new heroine to the mystery world.

À propos de cette édition

• Éditeur: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
• Date d'édition: 2008
• ISBN 10: 0151013470
• ISBN 13: 9780151013470
• Reliure: Relié
• Numéro d'édition: 1
• Nombre de pages: 384