Midnight City

Начало книги

RIGHT ABOUT THEN, it became official: Holt Hawkins was having a bad day.

“Hey, you’re right,” one of the kids shouted, reaching for him underneath the crumpled old truck. “There is someone under here!”

The kids yanked him out from under the ruined vehicle and slammed him hard against its rusted door.

They were younger than Holt, but not by much. Seventeen or eighteen he guessed, looking at the black veinlike growths crawling through their eyes, the telltale sign of the Tone. It had a firm hold on them now; it meant their time was running out.

Holt sized them up quickly. They were shorter and thinner, weaker, less quick probably, but those things mattered a lot less when you had guns or knives, and these kids had both. Holt had left his with Max, near the tree line, not wanting to risk the weight on the precarious bridge. A decision he was quickly coming to regret.

The six kids holding him had small tattoos on their right wrists. The one with his forearm pinning Holt to the door sported a Scorpion. Two more, knives at the ready, had a Coiled Snake and a Heart respectively.

Читать дальше →