ANNE BRONTË NIGHTWALKER
A BRONTË BLOOD CHRONICLE
BY
GEA HAFF
For Rob,
my prince
But I would rather be the hare,
That crouching in its sheltered lair
Must start at every sound;
That forced from cornfields waving wide
Is driven to seek the bare hillside,
Or in the tangled copse to hide,
Than be the hunter's hound.
Anne Brontë
Save as many as you ruin.
Simon Van Booy
YOU ARE READING
Anne Brontë Nightwalker
FantasyIn 1849, Anne Brontë died a devout and innocent virgin. Three days later, she rose from the dead. Now from the jagged wilderness of the Blue Ridge Mountains, to a glittering lair deep beneath the Biltmore Estate, a lonely Nightwalker fights her ete...
