"Freda Warrington - A Taste of Blood Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Warrington Freda)

laughing together. But then an endless night of screams muffled
behind closed doors; had she dreamed that? Surely she could not
have remembered it, yet it was there at the back of her mind; the
screams and then the silence that forever afterwards rang with the
echoes of her mother's pain.
Charlotte believed in ghosts. She believed in them as tangible
phenomena that must have a scientific explanation, if only she could
discover it. Some interaction between the places where the dead had

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A Taste


lived and the minds of the living? She only knew that ghosts were
real to the people that saw them. She often felt that her mother was
there beside her, like a friend, radiating all the calmness and
wisdom that Charlotte lacked.
Her father had never fully recovered from Annette's death. But at
least he had Charlotte, who was so like her.
She could never leave him; he needed her. It was her duty to replace
her mother in his heart… She did not articulate these thoughts, they
were simply a formless knowledge that always hung inside her,
heavy, familiar, sometimes dully painful although she did not know
why. She was the photograph come to life, the image that must be
kept the same forever.
Charlotte left her bed and went to the window, pulling back the net
to stare at the rain-drenched darkness. She felt oppressed, webbed
down into the pattern of her life. Her head was full of images. A
glowing, sparking laboratory, nothing beyond it. Dark panelled
rooms through which the living moved like ghosts and the voices of
the dead still echoed. A pale face with amber eyes that looked
straight through her…
And the sky… was she seeing things, or going mad? She could see
the wind and it was solid, a hill of violet glass that was slowly
turning over on itself like a wave, and there were dark shapes on its
side. The dark birds of her fever? Not flying, these creatures, but
running. Running towards her through the sky.




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Chapter Two
Coils of Ice
The beauty of Kristian's castle, Schloss Holdenstein, gave nothing