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Time for the Dead

Lin Anderson
Chapters (94)
  1. Cover
  2. Time for the Dead
  3. Dedication page
  4. Map
  5. Epigraph page
  6. Prologue
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. Epilogue
  92. Acknowledgements
  93. About the Author
  94. By Lin Anderson

Cover

images

Time for the Dead

to have their revenge . . .

LIN ANDERSON

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Dedication page

For

Blaze fae Skye, Border Collie,
who inspired this story

Map

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Epigraph page

All the Gods, the Heavens and the Hells are within us.

Prologue

The dog stirred, ears pricking up, positioning themselves like radar. The night was full of noise for the Border collie, not so for his owner slumbering only inches away.

The crackle and spit as a log settled in the stove, the hoot of an owl, the rustle of trees in the wind, the chatter of the burn that ran behind their caravan. All those the big collie heard and dismissed.

But not the other sound.

Raising his head, he listened, searching for what had awakened him, the memory of which troubled the dog, because he sensed that the sound had been made by a human. One in distress.

The dog jumped up, certain now of what he should do and how quickly he would need to do it.

A loud bark brought his bleary-eyed master to open the door, his words at having been woken so abruptly sharp on the air.

A blast of icy wind swept in, together with a flurry of wet snow as the dog jumped out, oblivious to the order to be quick.

He caught the smell of human almost immediately. More than one. Only a limited number of humans visited his home site during the winter months, and at least one of the scents he picked up now he recognized.

How far away was the fear, and in which direction?

The dog paused to sniff the ground, catching perhaps the trail deposited earlier. Into the trees now, his swift run disturbed other creatures that lived on the twelve-acre site, causing them to flee before him. A white hare rushed past and the dog almost lost concentration, until his training kicked back in.

Find the human. Follow their fear.

He was circling, radar ears turning, nose to the air, aware that as the group had moved in circles in their earlier game, he too might do the same, never to reach his goal.

The dog stood stock-still, every hair on his shaggy body bristling.

The new smell came to him then on the wind, making his shiny black nose twitch in anticipation.

It was one he knew well. A scent that emanated from his usual prey.

The blood smell of the kill.

1

Run. Breathe.

She could smell her own sweat, feel it trickle inside her gear, despite her breath condensing in the freezing air.

She paused to catch her breath and check the thump of her heart. Sniffing the air like a dog, she sought a scent of the others.