Читать онлайн «Lockwood & Co. The Hollow Boy»
Автор Джонатан Страуд
BOOKS BY JONATHAN STROUD
LOCKWOOD & CO.
THE BARTIMAEUS BOOKS
Text copyright © 2015 by Jonathan Stroud
Cover illustration © 2015 by Michael Heath
Illustrations © 2015 by Kate Adams
Cover design by Sammy Yuen
All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Hyperion, 125 West End Avenue, New York, New York 10023.
ISBN 978-1-4847-2254-1
Contents
Title Page
Books by Jonathan Stroud
Copyright
Dedication
I: Lavender Lodge
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
II: Whitechapel Nights
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
III: The Bloody Footprints
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
IV: Unrest
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
V: Dark Hearts
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
VI: A Face in the Dark
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Glossary
Praise for The Lockwood & Co. Series
Praise for The Bartimaeus Books
About the Author
I think it was only at the very end of the Lavender Lodge job, when we were fighting for our lives in that unholy guesthouse, that I glimpsed Lockwood & Co. working together perfectly for the first time. It was just the briefest flash, but every detail remains etched into my memory: those moments of sweet precision when we truly acted as a team.
Yes, every detail. Anthony Lockwood, coat aflame, arms flapping madly as he staggered backward toward the open window. George Cubbins, dangling from the ladder one-handed, like an oversized, windblown pear. And me—Lucy Carlyle—bruised, bloody, and covered in cobwebs, sprinting, jumping, rolling desperately to avoid the ghostly coils….
Sure, I know none of that
Want to know how? I’ll show you.
Six hours earlier. There we were, on the doorstep, ringing the bell. It was a dreary, storm-soaked November afternoon, with the shadows deepening and the rooftops of old Whitechapel showing sharp and black against the clouds. Rain spotted our coats and glistened on the blades of our rapiers. The clocks had just struck four.
“Everyone ready?” Lockwood asked. “Remember, we ask them some questions, we keep careful psychic watch. If we get any clues to the murder room or the location of the bodies, we don’t let on. We just say good-bye politely, and head off to fetch the police. ”
