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Shadow of Night

A Novel

The #1 New York Times–bestselling sequel to A Discovery of Witches, book two of the All Souls Trilogy—“as enchanting, engrossing, and impossible to put down as its predecessor” (Miami Herald).

 

Look for the hit TV series “A Discovery of Witches” airing Sundays on AMC and BBC America, and streaming on Sundance Now and Shudder.

J. K. Rowling, Stephenie Meyer, Anne Rice—only a few writers capture the imagination the way that Deborah Harkness has with her
New York Times–bestselling All Souls trilogy.
A Discovery of Witches introduces reluctant witch Diana Bishop, vampire geneticist Matthew Clairmont, and the battle for a lost, enchanted manuscript known as
Ashmole 782.

Picking up from
A Discovery of Witches’ cliffhanger ending,
Shadow of Night takes Diana and Matthew on a trip through time to Elizabethan London, where they are plunged into a world of spies, magic, and a coterie of Matthew’s old friends, the School of Night. As the search for
Ashmole 782 deepens and Diana seeks out a witch to tutor her in magic, the net of Matthew’s past tightens around them, and they embark on a very different—and vastly more dangerous—journey.
Rezension
"A great spell, the one that can enchant a reader and make a 600-page book fly through her fingertips, is cast." -Entertainment Weekly

"Fans of Harkness's 2011 debut A Discovery of Witches will be delighted. . . . She delivers enough romance and excitement to keep the pages turning. Readers will devour it." -People

"Deborah Harkness takes us places we've never been before. . . . Shadow ends as Discovery did with promises of more to come. Lucky for us." -USA Today

"Rich, period fun, particularly delightful in its witty characterizations of historical immortals . . . Shadow ramps up the supernatural suspense." -New York Daily News

"Harkness exudes her own style of magic in making the world of late 16th century England come alive. . . . If you've already read and enjoyed A Discovery of Witches, picking up Shadow of Night is an absolute requirement. Otherwise, pick up both, and consider your summer reading list complete." -Miami Herald
Portrait
Deborah Harkness is a professor of history at the University of Southern California.
A Discovery of Witches was her fiction debut. She lives in Los Angeles.
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  • "Why no beard? Have you been ill?" Marlowe's eyes flickered when they spotted me, nudging me with the insistent pressure that marked him unmistakably as a daemon.

    I suppressed an urge to rush at one of England's greatest playwrights and shake his hand before peppering him with questions. What little information I once knew about him flew from my mind now that he was standing before me. Had any of his plays been performed in 1590? How old was he? Younger than Matthew and I, certainly. Marlowe couldn't yet be thirty. I smiled at him warmly.

    "Wherever did you find that?" Marlowe pointed, his voice dripping with contempt. I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see some hideous work of art. There was nothing but empty space.

    He meant me. My smile faltered.

    "Gently, Kit," Matthew said with a scowl.

    Marlowe shrugged off the rebuke. "It is no matter. Take your fill of her before the others arrive, if you must. George has been here for some time, of course, eating your food and reading your books. He is still without a patron and hasn't a farthing to his name."

    "George is welcome to whatever I have, Kit." Matthew kept his eyes on the young man, his face expressionless as he drew our intertwined fingers to his mouth. "Diana, this is my dear friend Christopher Marlowe."

    Matthew's introduction provided Marlowe with an opportunity to inspect me more openly. His attention crawled from my toes to the top of my head. The young man's scorn was evident, his jealousy better hidden. Marlowe was indeed in love with my husband. I had suspected it back in Madison when my fingers had traveled over his inscription in Matthew's copy of Doctor Faustus.

    "I had no idea there was a brothel in Woodstock that specialized in over-tall women. Most of your whores are more delicate and appealing, Matthew. This one is a positive Amazon," Kit sniffed, looking over his shoulder at the disordered drifts of paper that covered the surface of the table. "According to the Old Fox's latest, it was business rather than lust that took you to the north. Wherever did you find the time to secure her services?"

    "It is remarkable, Kit, how easily you squander affection," Matthew drawled, though there was a note of warning in his tone. Marlowe, seemingly intent on the correspondence, failed to recognize it and smirked. Matthew's fingers tightened on mine.

    "Is Diana her real name, or was it adopted to enhance her allure among customers? Perhaps a baring of her right breast, or a bow and arrow, is in order," Marlowe suggested, picking up a sheet of paper. "Remember when Blackfriars Bess demanded we call her Aphrodite before she would let us-"

    "Diana is my wife." Matthew was gone from my side, his hand no longer wrapped around mine but twisted in Marlowe's collar.

    "No." Kit's face registered his shock.

    "Yes. That means she is the mistress of this house, bears my name, and is under my protection. Given all that-and our long-standing friendship, of course-no word of criticism or whisper against her virtue will cross your lips in future."

    I wiggled my fingers to restore their feeling. The angry pressure from Matthew's grip had driven the ring on the third finger of my left hand into the flesh, leaving a pale red mark. Despite its lack of facets, the diamond in the center captured the warmth of the firelight. The ring had been an unexpected gift from Matthew's mother, Ysabeau. Hours ago-centuries ago? centuries to come?-Matthew had repeated the words of the old marriage ceremony and slid the diamond over my knuckles.

    With a clatter of dishes, two vampires appeared in the room. One was a slender man with an expressive face, weather-beaten skin the color of a hazelnut, and black hair and eyes. He was holding a flagon of wine and a goblet whose stem was shaped into a dolphin, the bowl balanced on its tail. The other was a rawboned woman bearing a platter of bread and cheese.

    "You are home, milord," the man said, obviously confused. Oddly en
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Beschreibung

Produktdetails

Einband Taschenbuch
Seitenzahl 720
Erscheinungsdatum 01.02.2013
Sprache Englisch
ISBN 978-0-14-312389-7
Verlag Penguin LCC US
Maße (L/B/H) 17,2/11,2/5,5 cm
Gewicht 335 g
Verkaufsrang 1440
Buch (Taschenbuch, Englisch)
Buch (Taschenbuch, Englisch)
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