Prey

Sometimes silence is a signal that no one will hear you scream... A small group of Icelanders set out into the freezing wilderness. With what goal? And why did they leave their clothes in a remote cabin? During the search for the missing expedition, rescuer Jóhanna faces her own traumas and disturbing discoveries under layers of snow. And he doesn't have peace at home because of the strange behavior of the neighbor's dog. Something also disturbs the cat who keeps Hjövar company during his lonely duty at the radar station in the middle of nowhere. And it's not just the strange phone calls that got on his predecessor's nerves before he lost his life in a tragic accident. Something malevolent seems to be circling around them, watching them... Even in the grip of an icy hell, the heroes of this terrifying thriller from the queen of Icelandic crime fiction continue to sweat with terror - and to doubt their sanity. Inhospitable landscapes, cold, isolation and paranoia play key roles in a mystery story where Nordic detective fiction shakes hands with psychological horror. "With the last chapter, your chin will drop in amazement at how brilliantly the author has thought everything through. How she managed to find answers to her version of the mystery that are perhaps even more chilling than you might expect." - Detective Center "No one can describe isolation quite like Yrsa. Při čtení máte pocit, že vám mráz zalézá pod kůži a že ty divné zvuky z chodby raději nechcete jít prověřit.“ – ze čtenářských ohlasů na Databazeknih.cz „Je to uhrančivý a atmosférický příběh, v němž postavy bojují s psychickým traumatem i s nepřátelskými přírodními podmínkami.“ – The Sunday Times „Nezpochybnitelná královna islandského thrilleru.“ – The Guardian Kocoura venku zjevně něco znepokojovalo a jeho strach se začínal přenášet i na Hjörvara. Every now and then he found himself looking back warily, afraid to turn his back on the sea. He didn't consider himself a scarecrow, but now he couldn't help thinking of his predecessor. Perhaps if the blizzard had abated, he would have seen the dark outline of a man on the cliffs, staring into the black mouth of the cave. "Come on, Cat. We've walked enough." The animal responded with a loud mew, which Hjörvar interpreted as a sign of joy. Even during the short walk to the building, however, the Cat did not calm down, but rather seemed even more agitated and did not move from Hjörvar's feet. Maybe it had something to do with the increasing wind, but he even started to stick out his claws. The previous windlessness probably represented the calm before the storm. At the door, Hjörvar heard a familiar sound from inside. The house phone rang. He turned and tried to see the gate in the blizzard. No one was standing there. Hjörvar hurried inside and picked up the receiver. The same noise came from it as before, but also the same strange, indistinct voice. It felt like it belonged to a child. He hung up. - excerpt from the book