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Автор Жаклин Уэст

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Text copyright © 2014 by Jacqueline West

Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Poly Bernatene

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

West, Jacqueline, date.

Still life / by Jacqueline West ; illustrated by Poly Bernatene.

pages cm. — (The books of Elsewhere ; v. 5)

Summary: “An old magic resurfaces in twelve-year-old Olive’s house, and in order to save herself, those she loves, and all of Elsewhere, she must uncover the complex history of this eerie, painted world, its magical origins, and its creator”— Provided by publisher.

ISBN 978-0-698-14790-4

[1. Space and time—Fiction. 2. Dwellings—Fiction. 3. Magic—Fiction. ]

I. Bernatene, Poly, ill. II. Title.

PZ7. W51776Sti 2014 [Fic]—dc23 2013041383

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Version_1

For Jess,

from beginning to end

—JW

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Acknowledgements

About the author

WINTER IS A dangerous time.

There is ice to slip on. There is snow to skid through. There are whiteouts and wind chill, frostbite and head colds. And there are all kinds of winter sports—like sledding and skating and downhill skiing—that will help you hurt yourself very efficiently.

Simply stepping outdoors in the wintertime can be dangerous. If you’re the kind of person who tries to avoid danger and discomfort, you might step outdoors as rarely as possible. If you’re a gangly, distractible twelve-year old girl who is prone to falling down even without snow and ice to help you do it, you might avoid the outdoors whenever you can.

And if you are a gangly, distractible twelve-year-old girl with a huge stone house to nestle inside, and if you have far more chilling reasons than frostbite to avoid the outside world, you might hardly leave your house at all.

You’ll burrow down inside those thick-walled rooms with a book to read and something warm to drink, perhaps with a costumed cat for company, and you’ll feel almost safe.

Almost.

Because no matter how many blankets you hide under, or how many lights you turn on, you’ll remember what is waiting for you outside. You’ll hear shards of blown ice tapping at the windows. You’ll hear the moan of cold wind battering the walls. You’ll know that the ice and the darkness are waiting for their chance—any tiny gap, any unlocked door—to get in.