When the Night-gaunt Knows Your Name

By Tais Teng

An inky-dark room with a cooking pot bubbling over the fireplace, a black panther instead of a cozy cat: this certainly isn’t an ordinary house. Fred and Herman quickly discover that. Fred wants to leave as soon as possible and certainly before the witch returns with two glasses of lemonade. But Herman is eyeing the rows of magic books and slips one inside his coat. Stealing is never a good idea and stealing from a witch is the dumbest thing you can do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tais Teng
• Release date: Jan 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463215999

Book preview

When the Night-gaunt knows your name

Tais Teng

When the Night-gaunt knows your name © 2019 Tais Teng

original title: Tovertaarten en Nachtgluiperds

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photo-print, microfilm or any other means without written permission from the publisher / Niets uit deze uitgave mag worden vermenigvuldigd en/of openbaar gemaakt door middel van druk, fotokopie, microfilm of op welke andere wijze ook zonder voorafgaande schriftelijke toestemming van de uitgever.

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Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ABOUT TAIS TENG

OTHER ENGLISH BOOKS BY TAIS TENG

CHAPTER ONE

I bet you just don't dare, Herman says. Freddy Chicken would be the right name for you. You never want to have any fun!

Fred feels his ears grow hot. I'm not afraid! He balls his fists. It's only...

He stares at the house. It's an old-fashioned house. Huge, with clapboard walls. Tiles of gray slate cover the peaked roof. Bright green moss grows between the cracks. The narrow windows reflect the light of the sunset. It looks as if big flames are leaping inside. As if the whole house is on fire.

There are old trees all around, towering over the house. Under the trees the shadows are already inky-black.

It looks like a haunted house, Fred thinks. He remembers a movie. When you step inside the door will lock itself behind me. And then the house'll never let us go again.

It's the garden path, he says. I mean, it's too long. Twenty meters at least. When I ring the bell they'll see me run. And tell my parents, he thinks. But he doesn't say that aloud.

Herman shakes his head. Nobody'll see you. You just dive into the shrubs. They're quite close.

"Say, why don't you ring the bell? Fred asks. I bet you're chicken yourself!"

Hah! Okay. Okay, we'll both go. Then I run to the left and you to the right.

All right, Fred says without much enthusiasm.

The gravel crunches beneath their soles. It sounds loud enough to wake the dead, Fred thinks. He shivers.

There is a sudden movement in the corner of his eye. He jumps back. His heart misses a beat and then starts to hammer. Hey, what?

He searches the sky. There! Something small and black. A second later it swoops down again and almost touches his hair.

Fred ducks and flails with his hands. The animal squeaks far above him, a sound so high you almost can't hear it. It's laughing at me. I bet it likes to scare people. Just like Herman.

Herman looks at the fluttering dot. It's only a bat, Herman has lived all his life in the village and bats are nothing new for him. But it's Fred's first time in the country. His parents moved only three weeks ago from Denver. There are no bats in a big city.

Do they bite?

Of course, Herman whispers. They drink your blood. Takes them just three seconds to suck you dry.

Right. When Herman grins like that you know he's pulling your leg.

There's a small porch in front of the door with a staircase of worn red brick. Fred halts on the first step.

I'll ring the bell, he