Hounds of Lilith. “Wings” and “Hounds of Lilith” from Christina Stark or getting acquainted with the online best-selling series

I held my breath. If killing is not necessary, then I probably wouldn’t give up such a hobby either.

- Well, what about you? Who would you like to be, Sky? This diner, as I understand it, is not your calling at all.

- Yes, I need money for my studies. As soon as I save enough, I would like to become a doctor.

– Do you like helping people?

The desire to become a doctor was born during one of the darkest days of my life and has not left me since then. Over and over again, my thoughts returned to that day when one word from the doctor could have turned my life around, but... he chose to remain silent. Since then, I swore to myself that one day I would return to this and correct everything, warn, say out loud what they should have told me...

“You also have a secret, Sky,” Lilith notes, without waiting for an answer to her question.

“Yes, I ALSO have a secret,” I confirm. - Just like you. Women's clinic and hunting are not everything, right, Lilith?

“I guess so,” she smiles widely and takes a bite of the bun.

Lilith began to look into the “Turk’s Head” almost every day. If there were not too many visitors, I enjoyed chatting with her. Her manner of speaking was attractive and unique: I could not listen to her with half an ear, she somehow completely captured my attention.

Our acquaintance quickly turned into a kind of friendship. Of course, I knew that she was no match: she had long since risen to the very pinnacle of success, while I was helplessly stomping around at the bottom and trying to see the cloud-covered peak.

Lilith always left a generous tip, and I enjoyed entertaining her with chatter.

“I don’t recommend trying lamb,” I wink. – Don’t ask why, I just don’t recommend it. But the salads were a great success! And Hugo is just on a roll today, be sure to try his Pina Colada... What else... Oh yes, some broker is sitting at that table and has been discussing some super-duper deal for half an hour. If he concludes it, he will most likely leave me a ton of tips to celebrate!

Taking a sip of coffee from a cup, Lilith remarks:

“I’ll tip you three times as much if this same broker asks for your phone number.” Well, or leave his own.

My mouth drops open in amazement. Lilith observes my reaction and smiles slyly.

“This is impossible,” I whisper to her. - Look at him and look at me.

We both look to the far corner of the room, where a very attractive young man sits, leaning back in his chair. An impeccable suit, an impeccable haircut, an expensive watch visible from under the cuff of a shirt. He presses the latest model iPhone to his ear and convinces someone not to be an idiot and to accept his terms.

“He’ll only give me his phone number if I break a glass and put the shard to his throat.” Or I will fall at his feet and beg him for it. Can you imagine what he will think when...

“If I were interested in the opinion of every bison I was going to shoot, then, I’m afraid, I would never get a single trophy,” Lilith squints.

Her comparison of a man to a buffalo fills me with courage.

“I can’t,” I object. - After all, I have a boyfriend.

- Boy?! – Lilith is surprised as much as if I said “unicorn” and not “guy.”

- He's the one! – I nod comically.

“Then this will be even more interesting,” she whispers loudly, then takes a bright green banknote from her wallet, mercilessly folds it in four and puts it under her cup. – One hundred euros are at stake, Skye. For the phone number of this office bison.

"Office Bison!"

I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing out loud.

- But how? I have no idea how to do this!

- How should I know? – Lilith grins. – I am a customer, not an organizer.

I hesitantly walk to the bar, where Hugo is entertaining some not-so-sober client with men’s tales, I impudently lean on the counter and whisper in Hugo’s ear:

– If that handsome guy in the corner was also gay and you wanted to hit on him, what would you do?

– I would treat you to a cocktail with an indecent name.

– Is it that simple?

“The simpler the better,” Hugo nods with the air of an expert.

- Ugh, three hours. It's too early for cocktails.

- And it’s time for cakes.

Exactly! I unbutton the top two buttons of my blouse, place a plump sponge cake with pink frosting on a saucer, and walk stiff-legged toward the broker's table. I do it. Right now. Something I've never done before! I WILL PICK UP THE GUY!

Beware of the dog.

Hell is empty, all the demons are here.

And where will you run, Polanski? Will you tell mommy? So what will your suicidal mom do? Will he cut his veins to spite everyone?

They caught me out after school, pulled me by my hair, and trampled my textbooks into the dirt. A pack of classmates led by the beautiful Liz. She heard rumors that I was not indifferent to Jamie, the guy she ran after like a dog. Everything would have worked out fine, but one day Jamie sat down next to me during lunch in the school cafeteria, and then removed a drop of mayonnaise from my lip with the tip of his finger. And Liz - the queen of school bitches - went off the rails. At first there were nasty pranks like dog shit on my chair. Then there was gossip about me, a bottle of gin and a dozen guys from Ballymun. And then the bullying began. Cruel and merciless. I was counting down the days until I graduated from school. But time seemed to stand still. It froze, caked like blood.

If this is all about Jamie, then take him for yourself! I don't like him at all!

Who do you like?

Have you heard? Polanski is a lesbian! Fucking strap-on girl!

I try to get up, but they push me to the ground again. I cover my head with my hands: even with patent leather shoes you can beat me to the point of bruising. Shoes, so you know, can be just as ruthless as combat boots.

Pray louder, Polanski, God doesn't hear the squeaking of mice.

I get hit in the stomach. I double over while the sharp toes of school shoes slam into me from all sides, while I am spat on and showered with curses. And then someone brings their backpack down on my head. Until now, I have never lost consciousness in my life...

When I woke up, it was already dusk. I shook out the lumps of dirt from my backpack, put the books there, or rather, what was left of them, and went home.

The bus was completely empty. I went up to the second floor, leaned my forehead against the glass and gave free rein to my tears. Outside the window flashed neat, clean, as if drawn for a glossy magazine, landscapes of south Dublin. Two-story red brick houses, surrounded by the greenery of palm trees and magnolias all year round. Carefully trimmed lawns. Expensive cars parked on gravel driveways...

From behind the window, a rich, beautiful city looked at me, in which there is no place for dirt, hatred, or violence. In which little Irish girls still go to Catholic schools, wear skirts below the knee and learn prayers in class. Where single-sex schools - boys separately, girls separately - is the gold standard of education. A city of the devout, a city of saints, a city where abortion is prohibited, and schools first admit those who have a baptismal certificate.

For the first time I felt out of place here: my face was dirty, there was the taste of blood in my mouth, there was no heart in my chest - a hammer. “Oh, if only this bus could, without stopping, rush me to the ends of the earth! - I thought. - I would leave the city of saints without regret! Moreover, no one would have noticed my disappearance. Some other girl would have taken my place - and not a single person would have suspected the substitution...”

No one was waiting for me at the door. Mom, as usual, was lying on the sofa, looking at the ceiling and listening to music. She wasn't particularly interested in me or my problems. A few years ago she was diagnosed with clinical depression, and since then I have tried to be invisible. Don't burden her with your problems. Walk on tiptoes. Cry silently. Scream silently.

I locked myself in the bathroom, washed the dried blood from the back of my head and took out my miraculously surviving phone from my pocket. Hatred, despair and a thirst for revenge boiled inside me. Either I take revenge, fight and show my teeth - or I will not come out of the next fight alive.

(estimates: 1 , average: 4,00 out of 5)

Title: Hounds of Lilith

About the book “Hounds of Lilith” by Christina Stark

“The Hounds of Lilith” is an amazingly powerful novel that stirs the soul and keeps you in a daze until the last page. Christina Stark combined elements of thriller, romance and detective and “seasoned” this exquisite mixture with mystical “pepper.” It turned out very atmospheric and intimidating.

The main character of the book “The Hounds of Lilith” is a modest, inconspicuous waitress at a Dublin cafe, Skye Polanski. At work, all her days are gray and monotonous, she has no luck in her personal life, and the girl is just waiting for something grandiose to befall her. One day, a mysterious stranger named Lilith appears in a cafe and offers Skye a job in her Boston clinic. A luxurious life, endless male attention, a lot of new opportunities - the girl could not refuse such a dizzying offer. And she begins to work for Lilith. It turns out that working in the so-called clinic not only gives a lot of money and adrenaline, but also turns the girl’s life into a real fight with the demons that live inside every person. The main character will have to experience the touch of the Devil himself...

Looking at the title of the work, “The Hounds of Lilith,” you immediately understand that the reader is in for a hunt. Skye has become one of the “hounds” of the strange mistress, her task is to attack the victim and devastate him in the most cold-blooded way. In her clinic, Lilith created a sperm bank containing the genetic material of the most popular men. I wanted a child from a star - please.

You will find out in what sophisticated way the “hounds” hunt for men if you decide to read this book.

As you know, any well-established program will fail at some point. At one point, everything went wrong for Skye, and the reason for this was the sudden appearance of love. Christina Stark described the depth of the main character's experiences and the unexpected outcome of her love drama, adding a decent amount of romance to the chilling thriller.

The novel “Hounds of Lilith” is written on some shaky line between mysticism and reality. When you start reading the work, you don’t fully understand whether demons really exist and where they will appear next in the storyline. The language of the book is simple and clear, the abundance of dialogue allows you to see the subtleties of the relationship between the main characters. The elements of humor with which Christina Stark complemented the book relax a little, but then with burning curiosity you rush into the whirlpool of events, and the intrigue does not let go until the last lines.

On our website about books, you can download the site for free without registration or read online the book “The Hounds of Lilith” by Christina Stark in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.

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Christina Stark's novel "The Hounds of Lilith" is read with great rapture and is simply impossible to tear yourself away from. It’s amazing how the writer managed to create such a work that combines the best of different genres. There is a thriller here, and a detective story, and mysticism, which is constantly, until the last page, on the verge of reality. Until the very end you don’t understand whether all this is true or a figment of imagination. In addition, the author also added a romantic line, which will cause a lot of thrills with its emotionality.

The main character of the novel is an ordinary girl named Skye, they are usually called gray mice. She works in a cafe, every day is similar to the previous one, she has no luck in her personal life, and in general nothing bright and memorable happens. Gray and dull life. But one fine day an unfamiliar woman comes to the cafe. She invites Skye to go to Boston to work at a clinic there. And although the girl does not want to change her place of residence, she is very tired of this routine. Moreover, they promise her a lot of money, many handsome men, and luxurious opportunities for a prosperous life. It was difficult to refuse such a dizzying offer, and Skye agreed.

Having moved to Boston, the girl realized what her work would be. It may not be entirely fair, but... Perhaps it's worth it? However, it later turned out that no. She will have to face the real demons that are everywhere. That life, which in dreams seemed like paradise, in reality turned out to be a living hell, from which you want to get out as quickly as possible. Moreover, Skye unexpectedly fell in love, although this was completely unacceptable. Will she be able to pass this test of fate, and how will her story end?..

On our website you can download the book “The Hounds of Lilith” by Christina Stark for free and without registration in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format, read the book online or buy the book in the online store.

Christina Stark

Hounds of Lilith

Beware of the dog.

Hell is empty, all the demons are here.

William Shakespeare. Storm

And where will you run, Polanski? Will you tell mommy? So what will your suicidal mom do? Will he cut his veins to spite everyone?

They caught me out after school, pulled me by my hair, and trampled my textbooks into the dirt. A pack of classmates led by the beautiful Liz. She heard rumors that I was not indifferent to Jamie, the guy she ran after like a dog. Everything would have worked out fine, but one day Jamie sat down next to me during lunch in the school cafeteria, and then removed a drop of mayonnaise from my lip with the tip of his finger. And Liz - the queen of school bitches - went off the rails. At first there were nasty pranks like dog shit on my chair. Then there was gossip about me, a bottle of gin and a dozen guys from Ballymun [Ballymun is a disadvantaged area in Dublin. Note here and below. author.]. And then the bullying began. Cruel and merciless. I was counting down the days until I graduated from school. But time seemed to stand still. It froze, caked like blood.

If this is all about Jamie, then take him for yourself! I don't like him at all!

Who do you like?

Have you heard? Polanski is a lesbian! Fucking strap-on girl!

I try to get up, but they push me to the ground again. I cover my head with my hands: even with patent leather shoes you can beat me to the point of bruising. Shoes, so you know, can be just as ruthless as combat boots.

Pray louder, Polanski, God doesn't hear the squeaking of mice.

I get hit in the stomach. I double over while the sharp toes of school shoes slam into me from all sides, while I am spat on and showered with curses. And then someone brings their backpack down on my head. Until now, I have never lost consciousness in my life...

When I woke up, it was already dusk. I shook out the lumps of dirt from my backpack, put the books there, or rather, what was left of them, and went home.

The bus was completely empty. I went up to the second floor, leaned my forehead against the glass and gave free rein to my tears. Outside the window flashed neat, clean, as if drawn for a glossy magazine, landscapes of south Dublin. Two-story red brick houses, surrounded by the greenery of palm trees and magnolias all year round. Carefully trimmed lawns. Expensive cars parked on gravel driveways...

From behind the window, a rich, beautiful city looked at me, in which there is no place for dirt, hatred, or violence. In which little Irish girls still go to Catholic schools, wear skirts below the knee and learn prayers in class. Where single-sex schools - boys separately, girls separately - is the gold standard of education. A city of the devout, a city of saints, a city where abortion is prohibited, and schools first admit those who have a baptismal certificate.

For the first time I felt out of place here: my face was dirty, there was the taste of blood in my mouth, there was no heart in my chest - a hammer. “Oh, if only this bus could, without stopping, rush me to the ends of the earth! - I thought. - I would leave the city of saints without regret! Moreover, no one would have noticed my disappearance. Some other girl would have taken my place - and not a single person would have suspected the substitution...”

No one was waiting for me at the door. Mom, as usual, was lying on the sofa, looking at the ceiling and listening to music. She wasn't particularly interested in me or my problems. A few years ago she was diagnosed with clinical depression, and since then I have tried to be invisible. Don't burden her with your problems. Walk on tiptoes. Cry silently. Scream silently.

I locked myself in the bathroom, washed the dried blood from the back of my head and took out my miraculously surviving phone from my pocket. Hatred, despair and a thirst for revenge boiled inside me. Either I take revenge, fight and show my teeth - or I will not come out of the next fight alive.

“Jamie, do you want to go out tonight?”

Die, Liz.

“Where and when, Skye?:)”

Yes, anywhere, as long as more people see us together.

When you use revenge as a bomb, be careful not to blow it up yourself. The next day Jamie and I left school together, holding hands. He invited me over - his parents had just left for Wicklow for the weekend - and then admitted that he was crazy about me. I was blown up by this mine when he came up from behind and pressed himself against me. A completely innocent hug, if not for what was pressing against my buttocks from behind. “Do it, Skye. He's so cute. Let Liz emanate bile from envy,” an inner voice told me. Quiet but confident.

And I did. The fragments of this mine are embedded in me so deeply that I have not been able to remove some of them to this day...

Three years later

God gave me no talent, no courage, no beauty. I had no illusions about myself. I knew for sure: days would give way to nights, the Earth would circle in orbit, the world would go crazy, throw itself into all sorts of troubles, go crazy. Somewhere photographs of another politician will surface in which he will snort cocaine and grope scantily clad girls. Somewhere, a seventeen-year-old fashion model will drown in a bathtub. And only in my life everything will remain the same.

I was not one of those who are able to defy fate, who risk laughing with my mouth full and saying out loud what I think. I wasn't someone who could wear high-heeled shoes, jump into unknown taxis in the dead of night and chat with strangers on the Internet. The risk in my case was only walking without an umbrella in rainy weather, that’s all.

Perhaps that’s why I almost dropped the stack of dirty plates from my hands when one of the visitors to the cafe where I worked - a woman of about thirty-five named Lilith - made me sit down next to her and said:

Skye, this is not where you belong. Not in this diner that stinks of onions and fish. Do you want to know where you belong? In a Mercedes convertible with the top down, on a highway that runs along the ocean. In your head are memories of a night spent with your beloved man, in your wallet there is a wad of dollars in large bills, the midday sun is reflected in your glasses, the wind is ruffling your luxurious hair...

“I don’t have luxurious hair, ma’am,” I grinned, ruffling my short, faded strands, which even the most skilled hairdresser could not bring into divine shape. - And never will be. Unfortunately, genetics are for life.

Lilith, that strange brunette with eyes like black currants, started popping into my cafe about a few weeks ago and by now she had completely tired me with her eccentricity and habit of speaking in riddles.

Be silent and listen further,” Lilith demanded and continued: “Close your eyes.” Feel the ocean wind, so saturated with salt that it stings your nostrils. You are rushing along the road at a speed of one hundred and twenty kilometers per hour, driving the car with one hand and holding the thick strands of hair that the wind throws in your face with the other. What kind of hair do you want to have?

Flowing, shining platinum, like those of German fashion models? Or maybe blue-black, shiny, like liquid glass - like the ancient Egyptian priestesses? Or viciously red with a reddish tint, the color of sandalwood, for which the Inquisition in the Middle Ages would probably send you to the stake?..

Ma’am,” I begged, without opening my eyelashes, “I need to take these dishes to the sink...

No, you need to choose your hair color, now!.. Don’t open your eyes, you’ll scare away the vision,” Lilith added, and her palm lay on my face, covering my eyes.

Okay, redheads!

Intensely fiery, how?..

No, rather, chestnut-red, without yellowness. No apricots or copper.

I can already see it, Sky! The ideal shade for your aristocratically pale skin. Let's move on. Straight or curly?

Curly with large curls.

Long?

Oh yes, right down to your ass! Are you satisfied?

I tried to remove Lilith’s palm from my face, but it didn’t work out that way.

“I’m happy,” she whispered in my ear. - But the owner of gorgeous hair shouldn’t work as a waitress. Your hair will smell like burnt oil and soup spices. And those who drive a Mercedes convertible should not have their hands become rough from hot water and detergent!

I pushed her hand away from me and stood up abruptly. Telling me, a waitress who works for pennies from morning to evening, barely making ends meet, about the ocean, Mercs and packs of bucks, was too much. Too cruel even for me, accustomed to the antics of wealthy visitors.

It seems your coffee is cold,” I said with poorly concealed irritation.

Bring me another one! - Lilith demanded.

I went into the kitchen, grabbing the dirty dishes, and by the time I returned with a cup of hot latte on a tray, my anger had almost stopped choking me.

Your coffee! - I said loudly.

Your tip. - Lilith handed me a white envelope.

Thank you. “I took the envelope, intending to put it in my apron pocket, and my hand froze in the air. It turned out to be heavy: an envelope containing my monthly salary could have weighed about the same. I opened it slightly, glanced at the stack of bills and put the envelope on the table.