Stoneheart Trilogy, Book One, The: Stoneheart (The Stoneheart Trilogy)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A city has many lives and layers. London has more than most. Not all the layers are underground, and not all the lives belong to the living.
Twelve-year-old George Chapman is about to find this out the hard way. When, in a tiny act of rebellion, George breaks the head from a stone dragon outside the Natural History Museum, he awakes an ancient power. This power has been dormant for centuries but the results are instant and terrifying: A stone Pterodactyl unpeels from the wall and starts chasing George. He runs for his life but it seems that no one can see what he’s running from. No one, except Edie, who is also trapped in this strange world.
And this is just the beginning as the statues of London awake…
This is a story of statues coming to life; of a struggle between those with souls and those without; of how one boy who has been emotionally abandoned manages to find hope.
the stroller and opened it one-handed. “Come on. It’s going to rain. We’ve got to get home. Good dog.” The smack on the nose had dislodged the thought of Edie from the spaniel’s mind, and she trotted after the cooing mother who trundled off into the darkness, putting a rain hood over the baby as she went. Edie was about to breathe again when she realized something chilling. The cat-gargoyle remained braced and ready to attack—but its head had slowly turned, and it looked back over its shoulder
and harrumphed. The Gunner got to his feet. “Better make a start.” Dictionary watched him stagger off. The Gunner turned. “If I don’t…” Dictionary nodded. “It’ll not be just Jaggers and soldier-spits keeping an eye out for the children, Gunner. You have my word.” The Gunner held his eyes for a beat, then nodded back. “A word from you. That’s a thing well worth having.” Dictionary inclined his head in something like a bow. “You do me a kindness. Godspeed.” CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Mudlark
wondered if it was the cold. And now that he thought about it, he noticed what he had been ignoring, that he was soaked and muddy and very very cold indeed. Now that he was on dryish land, his body let him feel the full force of the exposure they’d just put themselves through. The body works on autopilot when you’re running scared, and pumps adrenaline into your system to help you fight or—as in George and Edie’s case—flee. Sadly, there’s only so much adrenaline in the system; and it runs out.
the Gunner sends you here. But he doesn’t come himself.” “He was hurt. And he had to get the dragon before it got George,” Edie explained. “The dragon and George. George and the dragon,” mused the monk. “Seems almost perfect, indeed it does.” He was getting jolly again. His eyes were retreating into the cracks of his smiling cheeks, which made them harder to see. “Your hand again, George, if you’d be so kind.” George showed him the hand with the red mark zagging and curling in on itself in
pushed. Something about you. Smell it. Ever smell lightning rod after strike? Same smell. Hot metal and static electricity. Could be gift, could be curse. Probably both.” “I’m cursed? You mean I’m one of the Weirded?” “Cursed maybe too strong. Sorry. But marked, certainly.” George felt the throb in his hand and folded it into his pocket. “Why would I be cursed?” The Clocker shrugged. “Done bad things?” “No. No. Not bad enough for a curse, I mean.” George said. “A bad thing? People usually