Offering to the Storm
It begins with a murdered child. It ends in a valley where nightmares are born.
When Detective Inspector Amaia Salazar is called in to investigate the death of a baby girl, she finds a suspicious mark across the child’s face – an ominous sign that points to murder.The baby’s father was caught trying to run away with the body, whether from guilt or grief nobody can be sure. And when the girl’s grandmother tells the police that the ‘Inguma’ was responsible – an evil demon of Basque mythology that kills people in their sleep – Amaia is forced to return to the Baztán valley for answers.Back where it all began, in the depths of a blizzard, she comes face to face with a ghost from her past. And finally uncovers a devastating truth that has ravaged the valley for years.Читать Offering to the Storm онлайн беплатно
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First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2017
Copyright © Dolores Redondo 2014
Translation copyright © Nick Caistor and Lorenza GarcÃa 2017
Dolores Redondo asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
Originally published in 2014 by Ediciones Destino,
Spain, as Ofrenda a la tormenta
Cover design by Holly Macdonald © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Cover photographs © Wojciech Zwolinski/Arcangel Images (statue), Shutterstock.com (other images)
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This is entirely a work of fiction. Any references to real people, living or dead, real events, businesses, organizations and localities are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. All names, characters and incidents are either the product of the authorâs imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © AUGUST 2017 ISBN: 9780008165550
Source ISBN: 9780008165543
Version: 2018-04-20
For Eduardo, as with everything I do.
For my aunt Angela and all the proud women in my family, who have always done what had to be done.
And above all, for Ainara.
I cannot bring you justice, but at least I shall remember your name.
âIt is never too late, Dorian. Let us kneel down, and try if we cannot remember a prayer.â
âThose words mean nothing to me now.â
The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde
âAll things that have a name exist.â
A popular Baztan belief, recorded by José Miguel de Barandiarán in BrujerÃa y brujas
Table of Contents
The lamp on the bedside table cast a warm, pink glow over the room, taking on different tones as it shone through the fairy patterns on its glass shade. From the shelf, a collection of stuffed toys gazed with beady eyes at the intruder silently gazing at the sleeping child. The intruder could hear the murmur of the television in the adjacent room, and the heavy breathing of the woman asleep on the sofa, lit by the screenâs cold light. The intruderâs eyes slid over the room, captivated by the moment, drinking in every detail, as though wanting to preserve that instant, transform it into a memento to be cherished forever. Eager but calm, the figure memorised the gentle pattern of the wallpaper, the framed photographs, the travel bag containing the little girlâs nappies and clothes, and then focused on the cot. A feeling akin to intoxication overcame the intruder, accompanied by nausea in the pit of the stomach. The baby was lying on her back, dressed in a pair of flannel pyjamas, a flowered bedspread drawn up to her waist. The intruder pulled the bedspread back, wanting to see all of her. The baby sighed in her sleep; a tiny thread of saliva trickled from her pink lips, leaving a damp patch on her cheek. The chubby hands, splayed out either side of her head, quivered a few times then relaxed once again. Reacting to the sight, the intruder sighed, overcome by a fleeting wave of tenderness. Picking up the soft toy sitting at the foot of the cot like a silent guardian, the intruder was vaguely aware of the care someone had taken to place it there. It was a polar bear, with small black eyes and a bulging stomach. An incongruous red ribbon fastened about its neck hung down to its hind legs. The intruder stroked the polar bearâs head, enjoying its softness, then, nose pressed into the furry belly, inhaled the sweet aroma of the expensive new toy.
Pulse racing, skin beading with sweat, the intruder began to perspire. Suddenly infuriated, the intruder held the toy at armâs length, then thrust it down over the babyâs nose and mouth. After that, it was simply a matter of pressing it.
