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.
was eight feet of earth, thick and sticky, like modeling clay. The earth was reinforced by its own web of tree roots, criss-crossing over and under themselves as each tree sent feelers out into the clay in a microscopically slow explosion, searching for water and food. This network was itself laced with tunnels made by earthworms burrowing blindly beneath the park as they went about their business. And on top of all this was the grass—white roots in the clay, green shoots above it, reaching into
nightmares whose wings unfold with a thunderclap and block out the sky, to tiny furry mascots that dangle in a harmless but irritating way from people’s rearview mirrors. The first thing George and Edie noticed was that the dragon that guards Fleet Street is not one of the fuzzy cuddleable ones. Its wiry body looked like that of a lion crossed with a muscular greyhound, and then covered in scales like chain mail. The thin spiny tail cracked like a whip and the wings snapped wide as it reared
see if he convulsed into a poisoned stupor. “Fine,” she said, downing her glassful. She didn’t choke or sputter, but her face grimaced so much that he could see her back teeth. “Gah!” She shuddered. “That’s foul. I suppose you think that’s funny!” “I thought it was okay,” he said. “Tastes like old ladies’ foot baths. After they’ve used them. Ugh!” She tore open a roll and ripped the top off a bag of prawn cocktail crisps. She emptied the crisps into the roll, closed it, and bit into it. The
“He’s gone,” he said with disappointment. “Who’s gone?” she said, looking at him suspiciously. And so he told her all about the Clocker, and what he’d said. He didn’t tell her all of what he’d said to the Clocker, because it didn’t seem any of her business, and besides, he’d said it to someone, and somehow that was what mattered. “What was he like, this Clocker?” she asked. George described him, starting with the way he looked and his clock-face eye, ending with his warning about the Servants
himself jammed against the stone of the Monument. He hid his hands behind him for extra safety. The Raven clung on to the bars and just cocked its head this way and then that, as if quizzically wondering for how long George thought it was going to keep this up? It looked even blacker than it normally was, with the sun directly behind it. It seemed like a hole in the light. George felt a narrow ridge on the wall at his back. He had an idea. He placed the sea-glass on it. Then he closed his hand