{"product_id":"endymion-spring-isbn-9780385734561","title":"Endymion Spring","description":"IN THE DEAD of night, a cloaked figure drags a heavy box through snowcovered streets. The chest can only be opened when the fangs of its serpent’s-head clasp taste blood.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCenturies later, in an Oxford library, a boy touches a strange book and feels something pierce his finger. The volume is wordless, but fine veins run through its pages, and they seem to quiver, as if alive. Words begin to appear in the book—words only the boy can see.“Wonderfully engaging, even addictive.”\u003ci\u003e—Kirkus Reviews, \u003c\/i\u003eStarred\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Riddles galore, [and] a great cliffhanger should generate plenty of excitement for this literary thriller.”\u003ci\u003e—Publishers Weekly, \u003c\/i\u003eStarredMatthew Skelton was born in England and grew up in Canada. He has a Ph.D. in English Literature from Oxford University. \u003ci\u003eEndymion Spring \u003c\/i\u003eis his first novel.Blake checked his watch—thirty-six minutes—and sighed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe tried walking backwards now, tapping the books in reverse order, to see if this would help pass the time. \u003cbr\u003eA series of stern-looking portraits glared down at him from the walls. Like magicians, they were dressed in dark capes and had sharp, pointy beards. Elaborate ruffs, like squashed chrysanthemums, burst from their collars. The older men had jaded eyes and tortoise-like skin, but there were also a few pale-faced boys like himself. He glanced at their nameplates: Thomas Sternhold (1587–1608); Jeremiah Wood (1534–1609); Isaac Wilkes (1616–37); Lucius St. Boniface de la Croix (1599–1666). Each man was holding a small book and pointing to a relevant passage with a forefinger, as though reminding future generations to remain studious and well-behaved.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBlake disregarded their frowns of disapproval and continued running his fingers along the books, rapping the spines with the back of his knuckles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll of a sudden, he stopped. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOne of the volumes had struck him back! Like a cat, it had taken a playful swipe at his fingers and ducked back into hiding. He whisked his hand away, as though stung. \u003cbr\u003eHe looked at his fingers, but couldn’t see anything unusual. They were smeared with dust, but there was no obvious mark or injury on his skin. Then he looked at the books to see which one had leaped out at him, but they all seemed pretty ordinary, too. Just row upon row of crumbly old volumes, like toy soldiers in leather uniforms standing to attention—except that one of them had tried to force its way into his hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe sucked on his finger thoughtfully. A thin trail of blood, like a paper cut, was forming where the book had nicked his knuckle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll around him the library was sleeping in the hot, still afternoon. Shafts of sunlight hung in the air like dusty curtains and a clock ticked somewhere in the distance, a ponderous sound that seemed to slow down time. Small footsteps crept along the floorboards above. That was probably his sister, Duck, investigating upstairs. But no one else was around.\u003cbr\u003eOnly Mephistopheles, the college cat, a sinewy black shadow with claws as sharp as pins, was sunbathing on a strip of carpet near the window and he only cared about one thing: himself.\u003cbr\u003eAs far as Blake could tell, he was entirely alone. Apart, that is, from whatever was lurking on the shelf.","brand":"Delacorte Press","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302267113701,"sku":"NP9780385734561","price":16.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780385734561.jpg?v=1767726275","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/endymion-spring-isbn-9780385734561","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}