Articles liés à Written in Red
L'édition de cet ISBN n'est malheureusement plus disponible.
Afficher les exemplaires de cette édition ISBN
Extrait :
Half blinded by the storm, she stumbled into the open area between two buildings. Hoping to hide from whomever was hunting for her as well as get some relief from the snow and wind, she followed an angled wall and ducked around the corner. Her socks and sneakers were soaked, and her feet were so cold she couldn’t feel them. She knew that wasn’t good, wasn’t safe, but she had taken the clothing available just as she had taken the opportunity to run.
No sound of footsteps that would confirm she was being followed, but that didn’t mean anything. Blocked by the wall, even the sounds of the slow–moving traffic were muted.
She had to find shelter. It was too cold to be out here tonight. As part of her training, she’d been shown pictures of people who had frozen to death, so she knew she couldn’t stay out here much longer. But the city shelters that provided a place for the homeless would be the first places the hunters would look for her.
Was she going to die tonight? Was this the storm that was the beginning of the end? No. She wouldn’t consider that possibility. She hadn’t done this much and come this far for it all to end before she had a chance to begin. Besides, she hadn’t seen other parts of the prophecy yet. She hadn’t seen the dark–haired man wearing a green pullover sweater. She didn’t have to worry about dying until she saw him.
That didn’t mean she could afford to be stupid.
The building at the back of the open area drew her attention, mostly because it provided the only light. Peeking around the corner to reassure herself that she was still alone, she hurried toward it. Maybe she could figure out an excuse to stay inside for a few minutes—just long enough for her feet to thaw.
But the light, which had seemed so bright and hopeful a moment before, was merely the overnight lighting. The place was closed. Still, there was enough light for her to see the sign above the glass door—a sign that would have chilled her more than the snow and wind if she hadn’t felt so desperate.
Lakeside Courtyard
H.L.D.N.A.
Human Law Does Not Apply. She was standing on land that belonged to the Others. She might be momentarily safe from human predators, but if she was caught here, she was at the mercy of beings that only looked human, and even someone who had lived a confined life knew what happened to humans who were imprudent in their encounters with the terra indigene.
A second sign was taped to the inside of the door. She stared at it for a long time, despite her numb feet and the freezing temperature.
Wanted:
Human Liaison
Apply at Howling Good Reads
(around the corner)
A job. A way to earn money for food and lodging. A place where she could hide for a while. A place where, even if she was found, the hunters couldn’t take her back because human law did not apply.
Howling Good Reads. It sounded like a name for an Others store.
She could die here. Most people who tangled with the Others died, one way or another. But based on what she had seen in the prophecy, she was going to die anyway, so for once in her life, what happened to her would be on her terms.
That much decided, she tromped back to the sidewalk and hurried to the corner. When she turned right on Crowfield Avenue, she saw two people walk out of a store. Lights and life. She headed toward both.
Taking his place behind the checkout counter, Simon Wolfgard glanced at the clock on the wall, then said,
The howl from the back of the bookstore produced the expected female squeals and more manly grunts of surprise.
Raising his voice to be heard by the humans within sight, he said, “Ten minutes to closing.”
Not that they didn’t know that. The howl was the ten–minute warning—just as the Wolf who took up a position at the door was the bookstore’s own brand of security. A would–be shoplifter having his hand bitten off instilled a strong sense of honesty in the rest of the humans who came to Howling Good Reads. Having to walk over the blood—and walk past the Wolf who was still crunching on a couple of fingers—left a lasting impression, not to mention a few nightmares.
Didn’t stop the monkeys from coming back the next day to stare at the bloodstains and whisper to one another as they browsed the contents of the store. The thrill of rounding a shelving unit and coming face–to–face with one of the Others in its animal form—and the more chilling thrill of sometimes seeing swift and terrible violence—tended to increase the sale of horror and thriller novels and helped the bookstore maintain an acceptable profit.
Not that any store in the Courtyard needed a profit to stay in business. The stores were run for the convenience of the terra indigene who lived in the Courtyard and provided a way for the rest of the Others to receive the human–made goods they wanted. It was more his own desire to understand the way businesses were run—and test the honesty of the human companies he dealt with—that gave Simon the push to keep his store in the black every month.
But Howling Good Reads didn’t follow human retail practices when it came to hours of operation. HGR closed promptly at nine p.m. on the evenings it was open to humans, and some of the staff didn’t hesitate to shift shapes and nip lingering customers who thought the store’s listed closing was a suggestion rather than a firm time.
He rang up a few sales, more than he’d expected on a night when the sensible would have been tucked in at home to avoid subzero wind chills and wind–whipped snow that had as much bite as any Wolf. Of course, some of the monkeys lived nearby and used the bookstore and adjoining coffee shop, A Little Bite, as their social gathering places when they didn’t want to spend an evening drinking at the taverns on Main Street.
Humans, Simon reminded himself. He adjusted the wire–rimmed glasses that he didn’t need for vision but thought made him look a little gawky and more approachable. Call them humans when you’re in the store. That way you’re less likely to use the slur when talking to an employee. It’s hard enough to find help we can tolerate. No sense driving away the ones we have by insulting them.
The word had traveled across the ocean from Afrikah, where the Liongard referred to humans as hairless, gibbering monkeys. After the terra indigene in Thaisia saw pictures of monkeys, they adopted the word because it fit so many of the humans they encountered. But he was a member of the Business Association that ran the integrated stores and Courtyard shops, as well as being the leader of the Lakeside Courtyard, so he tried not to be insulting—at least not out loud.
“Simon.”
He turned toward the voice that sounded like warm syrup as the woman shrugged into a hooded parka. The movement lifted the bottom of her short sweater, revealing a couple of inches of toned belly that still looked softly bitable.
Plenty of human females came sniffing around the store, hoping to be invited for a walk on the wild side, but there was something about this one that made him want to sink his fangs into her throat instead of nibble on her belly.
“Asia.“ He tipped his head, a gesture that was both greeting and dismissal.
She didn’t take the hint. She never did. Asia Crane had set her sights on him from the first day she walked into Howling Good Reads. That was part of the reason he didn’t like her. The harder she pushed to get close to him, the more he felt like a challenge to be conquered and the less he wanted her around. But she never pushed so hard that he could justify attacking her for being in his store.
A couple more people were shrugging into winter coats and scarves, but there was no one else by the register.
Giving him a Bite me, I like it smile, she said, “Come on, Simon. It’s been over a week, and you promised to think about it.”
“I didn’t promise anything,” he said as he straightened up the counter space around the register.
She had blond hair and brown eyes, and he’d been told by a couple of human males who worked in the Courtyard that she was beautiful. But there were things about Asia that bothered him. He couldn’t point a paw at any particular thing, besides her pursuing him when he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested, but that feeling was the reason he’d refused to give her a job at HGR when she’d first come around. It was also the reason he wouldn’t let her rent one of the four efficiency apartments that the Courtyard sometimes made available to human employees. Now she wanted to be the Human Liaison, a job that would give her access to the Courtyard itself. He’d eat her before he gave her that job. And Vladimir Sanguinati, who was the store’s other manager, had offered to help more than once if Simon looked at Asia some night and felt peckish. A fair arrangement, since Vlad preferred the blood while Simon liked ripping off chunks of fresh meat.
“We’re closed, Asia. Go home,” he said.
She let out a theatrical sigh. “I’d really like the job, Simon. The one I’ve got barely pays the rent and it’s boring.”
Now he didn’t even try to sound friendly. “We’re closed.”
Another sigh, followed by a pouty look as she zipped up her parka, pulled on gloves, and finally left.
John, another member of the Wolfgard, left his spot by the door to do a check for any stragglers. So Simon was alone in the front of the store when the door opened again, letting in a blast of cold air that he found refreshing after all the scents humans used.
“We’re—” He glanced toward the door and swallowed the word closed.
The woman looked half frozen. She wore sneakers—sneakers, for pity’s sake—and her jeans were soaked up to the knees. The denim jacket was a light covering suitable for a summer night, and she was wearing a T–shirt under it.
She looked so painfully cold he didn’t have the automatic consideration of whether she’d be edible.
“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked.
She stared at him as if she’d seen him before, and whatever had happened made her afraid. Problem was, he didn’t recognize her. Not by sight or smell.
Then she took a couple of steps toward the counter. He suspected that was to get farther into the store, where it was warmer, than to get closer to him.
“I s–saw the sign,” she stammered. “A–about the job.”
Not a stutter, he decided. Her teeth were beginning to chatter. How long had she been out in that weather? It was a natural storm, coming off the lake. The first one of the new year. Being a natural storm didn’t mean it wasn’t a bitch.
“What sign?”
“H–human Liaison,” she chattered. “The sign said to apply here.”
Moments ticked by. She lowered her eyes. Probably not brazen enough to meet his stare now that she’d said what she wanted.
Something about her troubled him, but it wasn’t the same feeling he had when he was around Asia Crane. Until he figured out what that something was, he didn’t want to kick her back out in the snow. And except for Asia, this was the first human to ask about the job. That was reason enough to give her a few minutes of his time.
Movement at the edge of his peripheral vision. John, now in human form and dressed in a sweater and jeans, tipped his head by way of asking, What now?
Simon tipped his head slightly in turn and looked at the cash register.
“Want me to close up?” John asked, giving the shivering woman a smile as he approached.
“Yes.” He looked at the woman. “Let’s go next door and have a cup of coffee while we discuss the job.”
She turned toward the outer door and hesitated.
“No, this way.” He took a couple of steps past the counter and pointed to an opening in the wall.
The archway between had a lattice door that could be latched when one store was closed and the other was still open to customers. On the wall beside the door was a sign that read, PAY FOR THE BOOKS BEFORE ENTERING A LITTLE BITE, OR WE’LL TAKE A BITE OUT OF YOU.
The sign on the other side of the door said, SURE, YOU CAN TAKE THAT MUG. WE’LL JUST KEEP YOUR HAND IN EXCHANGE.
He didn’t think the woman’s brain was thawed enough to take in the words. After the first jolt of seeing him, he didn’t think she had taken in anything.
Tess was wiping down the glass display case when he walked in. The friendly smile she started to give him shifted to guarded when she noticed his companion.
“Could we have some coffee?” he asked as he took a seat at a table closest to the counter—and away from the door and the pocket of cold that seemed to settle around the tables close to the windows.
“There’s still some left in the pot,” she replied, giving the woman a sharper look now.
Simon leaned back in his chair, resting one ankle over his other knee. “I’m Simon Wolfgard. What’s your name?”
“Meg Corbyn.”
He heard the breath of hesitation that told him it wasn’t a name she was used to. Which meant it wasn’t a name she’d had for long. He didn’t like liars. Humans who lied about small things tended to lie about a lot of other things as well.
And a name wasn’t all that small a thing when all was said and done.
But when Tess brought the mugs of coffee to the table and he saw the way Meg cupped the mug to warm her hands, he let it go.
He thanked Tess, then turned his attention back to Meg Corbyn. “You know what being a Human Liaison entails?”
“No,” she said.
“So you don’t have any experience with a job like this?”
“No. But I can learn. I want to learn.”
He didn’t doubt the sincerity of her words, but he did wonder if she wouldn’t die of pneumonia or something else before she had a chance to learn anything.
Suddenly he remembered the scarred old woman sitting in the sun, offering to read her cards and tell people their fortunes. But she didn’t use her cards that day, not for him. What she had done was the reason her words had whispered through his thoughts for the past twenty years. And now her words rang in his memory as clear as if he’d heard them yesterday.
Be a leader for your people. Be the voice that decides who lives and who dies within your Courtyard. The day will come when a life you save will, in turn, save someone dear to you.
His being the leader of the Lakeside Courtyard hadn’t saved his sister, Daphne, two years ago. But thinking about the old woman when this shivering young woman was waiting for his decision made him uneasy.
Tess set one of her earthenware soup bowls on the table, along with some crackers.
“Last bowl in the pot,” Tess said.
“Thank you, but I can’t pay for it.” Meg’s voice was barely above a whisper—and full of longing as she stared at the food.
Giving Simon a hostile look, Tess said, “On the house.”
“Eat it,” Simon said when Tess resumed her cleanup. “It’s hearty and will warm you up.”
He turned his head and drank his coffee while he watched Tess go through her closing routine, giving Meg a little time to concentrate on the food in front of her.
Tess was a worry. Tess was always a worry, because there was too fine...
Revue de presse :
No sound of footsteps that would confirm she was being followed, but that didn’t mean anything. Blocked by the wall, even the sounds of the slow–moving traffic were muted.
She had to find shelter. It was too cold to be out here tonight. As part of her training, she’d been shown pictures of people who had frozen to death, so she knew she couldn’t stay out here much longer. But the city shelters that provided a place for the homeless would be the first places the hunters would look for her.
Was she going to die tonight? Was this the storm that was the beginning of the end? No. She wouldn’t consider that possibility. She hadn’t done this much and come this far for it all to end before she had a chance to begin. Besides, she hadn’t seen other parts of the prophecy yet. She hadn’t seen the dark–haired man wearing a green pullover sweater. She didn’t have to worry about dying until she saw him.
That didn’t mean she could afford to be stupid.
The building at the back of the open area drew her attention, mostly because it provided the only light. Peeking around the corner to reassure herself that she was still alone, she hurried toward it. Maybe she could figure out an excuse to stay inside for a few minutes—just long enough for her feet to thaw.
But the light, which had seemed so bright and hopeful a moment before, was merely the overnight lighting. The place was closed. Still, there was enough light for her to see the sign above the glass door—a sign that would have chilled her more than the snow and wind if she hadn’t felt so desperate.
Lakeside Courtyard
H.L.D.N.A.
Human Law Does Not Apply. She was standing on land that belonged to the Others. She might be momentarily safe from human predators, but if she was caught here, she was at the mercy of beings that only looked human, and even someone who had lived a confined life knew what happened to humans who were imprudent in their encounters with the terra indigene.
A second sign was taped to the inside of the door. She stared at it for a long time, despite her numb feet and the freezing temperature.
Wanted:
Human Liaison
Apply at Howling Good Reads
(around the corner)
A job. A way to earn money for food and lodging. A place where she could hide for a while. A place where, even if she was found, the hunters couldn’t take her back because human law did not apply.
Howling Good Reads. It sounded like a name for an Others store.
She could die here. Most people who tangled with the Others died, one way or another. But based on what she had seen in the prophecy, she was going to die anyway, so for once in her life, what happened to her would be on her terms.
That much decided, she tromped back to the sidewalk and hurried to the corner. When she turned right on Crowfield Avenue, she saw two people walk out of a store. Lights and life. She headed toward both.
Taking his place behind the checkout counter, Simon Wolfgard glanced at the clock on the wall, then said,
The howl from the back of the bookstore produced the expected female squeals and more manly grunts of surprise.
Raising his voice to be heard by the humans within sight, he said, “Ten minutes to closing.”
Not that they didn’t know that. The howl was the ten–minute warning—just as the Wolf who took up a position at the door was the bookstore’s own brand of security. A would–be shoplifter having his hand bitten off instilled a strong sense of honesty in the rest of the humans who came to Howling Good Reads. Having to walk over the blood—and walk past the Wolf who was still crunching on a couple of fingers—left a lasting impression, not to mention a few nightmares.
Didn’t stop the monkeys from coming back the next day to stare at the bloodstains and whisper to one another as they browsed the contents of the store. The thrill of rounding a shelving unit and coming face–to–face with one of the Others in its animal form—and the more chilling thrill of sometimes seeing swift and terrible violence—tended to increase the sale of horror and thriller novels and helped the bookstore maintain an acceptable profit.
Not that any store in the Courtyard needed a profit to stay in business. The stores were run for the convenience of the terra indigene who lived in the Courtyard and provided a way for the rest of the Others to receive the human–made goods they wanted. It was more his own desire to understand the way businesses were run—and test the honesty of the human companies he dealt with—that gave Simon the push to keep his store in the black every month.
But Howling Good Reads didn’t follow human retail practices when it came to hours of operation. HGR closed promptly at nine p.m. on the evenings it was open to humans, and some of the staff didn’t hesitate to shift shapes and nip lingering customers who thought the store’s listed closing was a suggestion rather than a firm time.
He rang up a few sales, more than he’d expected on a night when the sensible would have been tucked in at home to avoid subzero wind chills and wind–whipped snow that had as much bite as any Wolf. Of course, some of the monkeys lived nearby and used the bookstore and adjoining coffee shop, A Little Bite, as their social gathering places when they didn’t want to spend an evening drinking at the taverns on Main Street.
Humans, Simon reminded himself. He adjusted the wire–rimmed glasses that he didn’t need for vision but thought made him look a little gawky and more approachable. Call them humans when you’re in the store. That way you’re less likely to use the slur when talking to an employee. It’s hard enough to find help we can tolerate. No sense driving away the ones we have by insulting them.
The word had traveled across the ocean from Afrikah, where the Liongard referred to humans as hairless, gibbering monkeys. After the terra indigene in Thaisia saw pictures of monkeys, they adopted the word because it fit so many of the humans they encountered. But he was a member of the Business Association that ran the integrated stores and Courtyard shops, as well as being the leader of the Lakeside Courtyard, so he tried not to be insulting—at least not out loud.
“Simon.”
He turned toward the voice that sounded like warm syrup as the woman shrugged into a hooded parka. The movement lifted the bottom of her short sweater, revealing a couple of inches of toned belly that still looked softly bitable.
Plenty of human females came sniffing around the store, hoping to be invited for a walk on the wild side, but there was something about this one that made him want to sink his fangs into her throat instead of nibble on her belly.
“Asia.“ He tipped his head, a gesture that was both greeting and dismissal.
She didn’t take the hint. She never did. Asia Crane had set her sights on him from the first day she walked into Howling Good Reads. That was part of the reason he didn’t like her. The harder she pushed to get close to him, the more he felt like a challenge to be conquered and the less he wanted her around. But she never pushed so hard that he could justify attacking her for being in his store.
A couple more people were shrugging into winter coats and scarves, but there was no one else by the register.
Giving him a Bite me, I like it smile, she said, “Come on, Simon. It’s been over a week, and you promised to think about it.”
“I didn’t promise anything,” he said as he straightened up the counter space around the register.
She had blond hair and brown eyes, and he’d been told by a couple of human males who worked in the Courtyard that she was beautiful. But there were things about Asia that bothered him. He couldn’t point a paw at any particular thing, besides her pursuing him when he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested, but that feeling was the reason he’d refused to give her a job at HGR when she’d first come around. It was also the reason he wouldn’t let her rent one of the four efficiency apartments that the Courtyard sometimes made available to human employees. Now she wanted to be the Human Liaison, a job that would give her access to the Courtyard itself. He’d eat her before he gave her that job. And Vladimir Sanguinati, who was the store’s other manager, had offered to help more than once if Simon looked at Asia some night and felt peckish. A fair arrangement, since Vlad preferred the blood while Simon liked ripping off chunks of fresh meat.
“We’re closed, Asia. Go home,” he said.
She let out a theatrical sigh. “I’d really like the job, Simon. The one I’ve got barely pays the rent and it’s boring.”
Now he didn’t even try to sound friendly. “We’re closed.”
Another sigh, followed by a pouty look as she zipped up her parka, pulled on gloves, and finally left.
John, another member of the Wolfgard, left his spot by the door to do a check for any stragglers. So Simon was alone in the front of the store when the door opened again, letting in a blast of cold air that he found refreshing after all the scents humans used.
“We’re—” He glanced toward the door and swallowed the word closed.
The woman looked half frozen. She wore sneakers—sneakers, for pity’s sake—and her jeans were soaked up to the knees. The denim jacket was a light covering suitable for a summer night, and she was wearing a T–shirt under it.
She looked so painfully cold he didn’t have the automatic consideration of whether she’d be edible.
“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked.
She stared at him as if she’d seen him before, and whatever had happened made her afraid. Problem was, he didn’t recognize her. Not by sight or smell.
Then she took a couple of steps toward the counter. He suspected that was to get farther into the store, where it was warmer, than to get closer to him.
“I s–saw the sign,” she stammered. “A–about the job.”
Not a stutter, he decided. Her teeth were beginning to chatter. How long had she been out in that weather? It was a natural storm, coming off the lake. The first one of the new year. Being a natural storm didn’t mean it wasn’t a bitch.
“What sign?”
“H–human Liaison,” she chattered. “The sign said to apply here.”
Moments ticked by. She lowered her eyes. Probably not brazen enough to meet his stare now that she’d said what she wanted.
Something about her troubled him, but it wasn’t the same feeling he had when he was around Asia Crane. Until he figured out what that something was, he didn’t want to kick her back out in the snow. And except for Asia, this was the first human to ask about the job. That was reason enough to give her a few minutes of his time.
Movement at the edge of his peripheral vision. John, now in human form and dressed in a sweater and jeans, tipped his head by way of asking, What now?
Simon tipped his head slightly in turn and looked at the cash register.
“Want me to close up?” John asked, giving the shivering woman a smile as he approached.
“Yes.” He looked at the woman. “Let’s go next door and have a cup of coffee while we discuss the job.”
She turned toward the outer door and hesitated.
“No, this way.” He took a couple of steps past the counter and pointed to an opening in the wall.
The archway between had a lattice door that could be latched when one store was closed and the other was still open to customers. On the wall beside the door was a sign that read, PAY FOR THE BOOKS BEFORE ENTERING A LITTLE BITE, OR WE’LL TAKE A BITE OUT OF YOU.
The sign on the other side of the door said, SURE, YOU CAN TAKE THAT MUG. WE’LL JUST KEEP YOUR HAND IN EXCHANGE.
He didn’t think the woman’s brain was thawed enough to take in the words. After the first jolt of seeing him, he didn’t think she had taken in anything.
Tess was wiping down the glass display case when he walked in. The friendly smile she started to give him shifted to guarded when she noticed his companion.
“Could we have some coffee?” he asked as he took a seat at a table closest to the counter—and away from the door and the pocket of cold that seemed to settle around the tables close to the windows.
“There’s still some left in the pot,” she replied, giving the woman a sharper look now.
Simon leaned back in his chair, resting one ankle over his other knee. “I’m Simon Wolfgard. What’s your name?”
“Meg Corbyn.”
He heard the breath of hesitation that told him it wasn’t a name she was used to. Which meant it wasn’t a name she’d had for long. He didn’t like liars. Humans who lied about small things tended to lie about a lot of other things as well.
And a name wasn’t all that small a thing when all was said and done.
But when Tess brought the mugs of coffee to the table and he saw the way Meg cupped the mug to warm her hands, he let it go.
He thanked Tess, then turned his attention back to Meg Corbyn. “You know what being a Human Liaison entails?”
“No,” she said.
“So you don’t have any experience with a job like this?”
“No. But I can learn. I want to learn.”
He didn’t doubt the sincerity of her words, but he did wonder if she wouldn’t die of pneumonia or something else before she had a chance to learn anything.
Suddenly he remembered the scarred old woman sitting in the sun, offering to read her cards and tell people their fortunes. But she didn’t use her cards that day, not for him. What she had done was the reason her words had whispered through his thoughts for the past twenty years. And now her words rang in his memory as clear as if he’d heard them yesterday.
Be a leader for your people. Be the voice that decides who lives and who dies within your Courtyard. The day will come when a life you save will, in turn, save someone dear to you.
His being the leader of the Lakeside Courtyard hadn’t saved his sister, Daphne, two years ago. But thinking about the old woman when this shivering young woman was waiting for his decision made him uneasy.
Tess set one of her earthenware soup bowls on the table, along with some crackers.
“Last bowl in the pot,” Tess said.
“Thank you, but I can’t pay for it.” Meg’s voice was barely above a whisper—and full of longing as she stared at the food.
Giving Simon a hostile look, Tess said, “On the house.”
“Eat it,” Simon said when Tess resumed her cleanup. “It’s hearty and will warm you up.”
He turned his head and drank his coffee while he watched Tess go through her closing routine, giving Meg a little time to concentrate on the food in front of her.
Tess was a worry. Tess was always a worry, because there was too fine...
Praise for Written in Red
Winner of the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice for Best Urban Fantasy Novel
“Amazing...A compelling story set in a seamlessly crafted universe.”—Fresh Fiction
“Near perfect...Written in Red isn’t just the best urban fantasy of the year—it may be one of the best ever.”—All Things Urban Fantasy
“A stunningly original yarn, deeply imagined, beautifully articulated, and set forth in clean, limpid, sensual prose.”—Kirkus Reviews
“Bishop has a way of making your heart wrench with joy and pain within a breath.”—Fantasy Book Critic
“Fast-paced action, well defined characters and an imaginative storyline make for a fine paranormal read.”—Monsters and Critics
More Praise for Anne Bishop and the Novels of the Others
“Anne Bishop is so good at writing character development....I love this series and I NEED MORE!”—USAToday.com
“Without a doubt one of the best UF series on the market.”—RT Book Reviews
“The Queen of Fantasy...Teeming with intrigue, suspense, heartbreak, and hints of romance, Bishop’s literary skills continue to astound and enchant.”—Heroes and Heartbreakers
Winner of the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice for Best Urban Fantasy Novel
“Amazing...A compelling story set in a seamlessly crafted universe.”—Fresh Fiction
“Near perfect...Written in Red isn’t just the best urban fantasy of the year—it may be one of the best ever.”—All Things Urban Fantasy
“A stunningly original yarn, deeply imagined, beautifully articulated, and set forth in clean, limpid, sensual prose.”—Kirkus Reviews
“Bishop has a way of making your heart wrench with joy and pain within a breath.”—Fantasy Book Critic
“Fast-paced action, well defined characters and an imaginative storyline make for a fine paranormal read.”—Monsters and Critics
More Praise for Anne Bishop and the Novels of the Others
“Anne Bishop is so good at writing character development....I love this series and I NEED MORE!”—USAToday.com
“Without a doubt one of the best UF series on the market.”—RT Book Reviews
“The Queen of Fantasy...Teeming with intrigue, suspense, heartbreak, and hints of romance, Bishop’s literary skills continue to astound and enchant.”—Heroes and Heartbreakers
Les informations fournies dans la section « A propos du livre » peuvent faire référence à une autre édition de ce titre.
- ÉditeurAce
- Date d'édition2014
- ISBN 10 0451417909
- ISBN 13 9780451417909
- ReliurePoche
- Nombre de pages512
- Evaluation vendeur
Acheter neuf
En savoir plus sur cette édition
EUR 3,84
Frais de port :
EUR 3,97
Vers Etats-Unis
Meilleurs résultats de recherche sur AbeBooks
Image d'archives
Written in Red
Edité par
Roc
(2014)
ISBN 10 : 0451417909
ISBN 13 : 9780451417909
Neuf
Soft cover
Quantité disponible : 1
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Soft cover. Etat : New. N° de réf. du vendeur 1609
Acheter neuf
EUR 3,84
Autre devise
Image fournie par le vendeur
Written in Red
Edité par
Ace
(2014)
ISBN 10 : 0451417909
ISBN 13 : 9780451417909
Neuf
Couverture souple
Quantité disponible : 5
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Etat : New. N° de réf. du vendeur 20028052-n
Acheter neuf
EUR 7,55
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Written in Red (A Novel of the Others)
Edité par
Ace
(2014)
ISBN 10 : 0451417909
ISBN 13 : 9780451417909
Neuf
Couverture souple
Quantité disponible : 1
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Etat : New. Book is in NEW condition. N° de réf. du vendeur 0451417909-2-1
Acheter neuf
EUR 10,04
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Written in Red (A Novel of the Others)
Edité par
Ace
(2014)
ISBN 10 : 0451417909
ISBN 13 : 9780451417909
Neuf
Couverture souple
Quantité disponible : 1
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Etat : New. New! This book is in the same immaculate condition as when it was published. N° de réf. du vendeur 353-0451417909-new
Acheter neuf
EUR 10,05
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Written In Red Format: MassMarket
Edité par
Penguin Random House
(2014)
ISBN 10 : 0451417909
ISBN 13 : 9780451417909
Neuf
Couverture souple
Quantité disponible : > 20
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Etat : New. Brand New. N° de réf. du vendeur 0451417909
Acheter neuf
EUR 6,76
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Written in Red (A Novel of the Others)
Edité par
Roc
(2014)
ISBN 10 : 0451417909
ISBN 13 : 9780451417909
Neuf
Mass Market Paperback
Quantité disponible : 2
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Mass Market Paperback. Etat : New. N° de réf. du vendeur BKZN9780451417909
Acheter neuf
EUR 11,10
Autre devise
Image fournie par le vendeur
Written in Red - #1 Novel of the Others
Edité par
ROC Book, New York, NY, USA
(2014)
ISBN 10 : 0451417909
ISBN 13 : 9780451417909
Neuf
Mass Market Paperback
Quantité disponible : 1
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Mass Market Paperback. Etat : New. unused book from closed bookstore inventory; clean, tight and square, no spine crease, no tears or other creases, text is clean and unmarked. N° de réf. du vendeur 501350
Acheter neuf
EUR 6,49
Autre devise
Image fournie par le vendeur
Written in Red (Paperback)
Edité par
Penguin Putnam Inc, New York
(2014)
ISBN 10 : 0451417909
ISBN 13 : 9780451417909
Neuf
Paperback
Quantité disponible : 1
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Paperback. Etat : new. Paperback. Enter the world of the Others in the first novel in New York Times bestselling author Anne Bishops thrilling fantasy series: a place where unearthly entitiesvampires and shape-shifters among themrule the Earth and prey on the human race.As a cassandra sangue, or blood prophet, Meg Corbyn can see the future when her skin is cuta gift that feels more like a curse. Megs Controller keeps her enslaved so he can have full access to her visions. But when she escapes, the only safe place Meg can hide is at the Lakeside Courtyarda business district operated by the Others. Shape-shifter Simon Wolfgard is reluctant to hire the stranger who inquires about the Human Liaison job. First, he senses shes keeping a secret, and second, she doesnt smell like human prey. Yet a stronger instinct propels him to give Meg the job. And when he learns the truth about Meg and that shes wanted by the government, hell have to decide if shes worth the fight between humans and the Others that will surely follow. "Previously published in a Roc hardcover edition."--Verso. Shipping may be from multiple locations in the US or from the UK, depending on stock availability. N° de réf. du vendeur 9780451417909
Acheter neuf
EUR 12,47
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Written in Red (A Novel of the Others)
Edité par
Ace
(2014)
ISBN 10 : 0451417909
ISBN 13 : 9780451417909
Neuf
Couverture souple
Quantité disponible : 1
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Etat : New. . N° de réf. du vendeur 52GZZZ00JF6D_ns
Acheter neuf
EUR 13,89
Autre devise
Image d'archives
Written in Red Novel of the Others
Edité par
Penguin Publishing Group
(2014)
ISBN 10 : 0451417909
ISBN 13 : 9780451417909
Neuf
PAP
Quantité disponible : 5
Vendeur :
Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre PAP. Etat : New. New Book. Shipped from UK. Established seller since 2000. N° de réf. du vendeur WB-9780451417909
Acheter neuf
EUR 14,81
Autre devise