Glass Town Wars

Glass Town Wars

Glass Town Wars

Glass Town Wars

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Overview

A new novel by the bestselling author of Witch Child: an adventure story drawing on the early writings of the Brontë children All these Glass Town intrigues. No matter how long you'd been absent, how far you'd travelled, once you were back, it was as though you had never been away. Tom and Augusta are from different places and different times, but they meet in a virtual world to combine forces in battle, to save a kingdom, escape a web of deceit and find love. In a place where fictions can be truths and truths fictions, learning who to trust is about more than friendship, it is about survival. Glass Town Wars, inspired by the early writing of the Brontës, is a captivating, magical novel by the renowned Celia Rees. Celia Rees lives in Warwickshire with her husband. She is the author of the bestselling Witch Child, Sorceress and Pirates.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781782691648
Publisher: Steerforth Press
Publication date: 09/08/2020
Sold by: Penguin Random House Publisher Services
Format: eBook
Pages: 320
File size: 1 MB
Age Range: 13 - 17 Years

About the Author

Celia Rees lives in Warwickshire with her husband. She is the author of the bestselling Witch Child, Sorceress and Pirates.

Read an Excerpt

Miles. Milo Mindbender. He’d taken the name from that
guy in Catch-22. Tom should have known not to trust him
but what could he do? He was lying here, as helpless as a
monkey strapped to a table in a lab.
He heard him from way down the corridor, boot heels
clicking on the floor. Swish of the door. Nothing wrong
with his hearing; it was more acute, if anything. A displacement
of the hospital air, the tang of fags and Ralph
Lauren aftershave added to hospital antiseptic. They say
the other senses, the ones you’re left with, kick in, don’t
they? He’d found that to be true.
The girl stopped reading. She was a friend of his sister’s,
part of a rota of people who came in to talk, read, play
music, even sing songs to him. Anything to try and get
through. That was the idea but Tom found most of them
tedious, what they did pointless; he wanted them to go
away as soon as they came through the door. She was different.
He couldn’t remember her name—there were a lot
of things he couldn’t remember—but he liked it when she
was here. Just her and him and the chunk, beep and chirp
of the machines, as regular as heartbeats and breathing,
which was what they were there to monitor and do. He
liked to hear her. It gave him a peaceful feeling. He was
annoyed at the disruption that Milo would bring.
Milo was tall and skinny, dressed in a black suit: slimfit,
tailored with narrow trousers, narrow lapels, over a
white shirt and narrow black tie. How did Tom know
that? Because that was what he always wore.
He came close, casting an eye over the machines that
were keeping Tom alive. He was a whizz at electronics.
Tom hoped he wouldn’t fiddle with anything, or think of
making a few little adjustments…
Milo walked round the bed, hands in pockets, his fingers
turning over coins.
He stopped. Spun around. He always moved like that.
Still, then quick and jerky. Each movement unexpected.
“Get us a coffee, love, would you?” The chink of coinage.
“There’s a machine down the corridor. White. Two
sugars. Get one for yourself while you’re at it.”
“Why should I?” The girl’s voice was low and even,
but not because she was the mousy quiet type. There was
a yawn at the back of it, as if she didn’t care a whole lot.
“Because I’m asking!” Milo didn’t like “No”, especially
from girls. “Give us a bit of guy time. Boy talk, you know?”
“They’re not even sure he can hear anything,” she said.
“That right? So why are you here boring the arse off
him with that book?”
The book snapped shut; the chair scraped on the floor.
“I’ve got money, thank you,” she said.
Milo pocketed his change.
The door opened. Closed.
There was just him and Milo.
“How ya doin’, Big Man? Not so good, from what I
hear. Natalie’s doing a great job on social media—thought
you’d like to know. You’ve got a ton of followers. I mean,
Hashtag heroinacoma is going even better. She’s even raising
funds. Not sure what they’re for. I’ve tried to get her
to invest in MiloMindbender but so far, no dice. Here’s
the thing…” he said, coming closer. Tom could smell the
smoke on his clothes, the mint on his breath. There was
a rustle as he took something out of his pocket. “You’re
lying here not doing anything and I’ve got a little something
that might fill those empty hours. It’s real small.
Practically invisible. It’s called Echeneis, named after some
kind of magic fish. Made from this wonder substance. Even
I don’t understand the science. All you need to know is that
it works like so…” He was very near. Tom felt something
go into his ear. “At least, we think it does.” Tom heard
the shrug in his voice. “We don’t really know.”
What is it? Tom wanted to yell at him. What do you
mean, you don’t know how it works? What have you done?
But he couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink, and it was in
there now.
Tom felt Milo step back, watching, as if he was waiting
for something to happen.
“The potential is huge,” Milo went on when nothing
did. “It will take gaming to a whole new level.” He carried
on talking, filling the time, waiting to see what the
result might be. “I mean, we’ve been gaming since we
were little kids, right?” He laughed. “Xbox and all that.
I always won.”
Of course he did. He was a genuine genius. He passed
A level Maths and Computing when he was twelve. He
didn’t play games any more—he wrote them. He was a
bitcoin millionaire well on his way to becoming a real
one. He ran his own software company from his garage,
MiloMindbender and Associates. There were no Associates.
He made a ton of money hosting sites where people buy
and sell things, although he never said what exactly: “Oh,
you know, this and that.”
“Well, here’s the thing. What you’ve got in your ear,
it’s gonna make the gaming we’ve got right now look like
old-style Atari ping-pong. You’re always on the outside,
right? Looking at your console, your computer, your
tablet, or phone, or whatever. But what if you could be
actually inside the game?” His voice went dreamy. “What
if you could be living it? Not just hear and see but feel,
smell, taste it—just like in the real world. What if it can
become your real world? VR headsets? Nowhere near this…
It will take you places, bro. Give you experiences…”
This thing in his ear, it was something to do with games
and gaming. Milo’s new project.
“You know? I’m almost jealous…” Milo was saying.
Almost. Not quite.
“It’s, hmm, experimental. A prototype,” he was saying.
“Yeah. Not one hundred per cent certain what the effect
might be but I figured you might as well do something
useful while you’re lying here.” His voice lost its easy,
bantering tone, and dropped to a menacing purr. “Let’s
face it, you’ve got nothing to lose, have you? Hey!” Tom
heard the rustle of the shirt inside his sleeve as Milo reached
across him. “I wonder what this does?”
Just then, the door opened.
Milo moved quickly away from the bed.
“Gotta go,” he said. “Things to do.”
“Your coffee?”
“Another time, maybe.”
Tom started fitting.
The coffee hit the deck.
Alarms went off.
“That’s very cool.” There was a laugh from Milo as
the girl ran out to get help. “I like to know how things
work. See you, bro.”
“You’ll have to leave now,” a female voice said—one
of the nurses.
“No problem, darling. I’m off.”
A doctor came in. Adjustments were made to this,
to that, but Tom wasn’t there any more. He was somewhere
else entirely. Somewhere he’d never been, never
seen, never known. It was something to do with Milo,
he did know that. What had he done to him? And now
Tom was here—wherever “here” was—how was he going
to get back?

What People are Saying About This

From the Publisher

"Glass Town Wars" is a beautifully crafted, multilayered story with a gripping adventure at its heart. Wonderful, clever stuff. —Melvin Burgess
A thrilling roller-coaster ride with added Brontës. —Adèle Geras
Clever and captivating. —Linda Newbery
Wildly inventive, wholly original, seriously thrilling. Celia Rees is a one-off. —Lottie Moggach, author of 'Kiss Me First'

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