Читать книгу The Book of Rapture - Nikki Gemmell - Страница 18

Out of the window a ferocious sunset falls away. The colour of blood in it. Lightning spits and flickers in the distance as if it’s a faulty fluorescent light. A tree right outside tosses its branches at the approaching storm like a horse spooked. ‘No panicking, all right.’ Soli. A tremor in her voice she can’t iron out. She checks her new watch. So, obediently, do her little brothers. They all received them on your final night. They say 1707. The kids don’t get it. What happened to the past day? They woke just after 4 p.m., on the bed, in a line, on their backs. They’ve never slept so late in their lives. And they’re still tired but it’s an unearthly tired as if some enormous rake is dragging them down and pulling them back into sleep.

They’re fighting it. Tidge: shaking his arms like an actor warming up. Mouse: jogging fast on the spot. Soli: biting her lip because she’s the eldest and is used to getting what she wants and no way is that sleep having her back. Because of the things that now happen in it. Because it can’t be trusted. Because of the terror that could envelop them if unconsciousness, once again, gets its chance.

We have got ready the fire whose smoke will enwrap them: and if they implore help, helped shall they be with water like molten brass which will scald their faces.