Parallel III - Demon Hunters , livre ebook

eBookPartnership.com - A Rice Paul

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

158 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

Kenneth Robinson thinks the worst is behind them, that all the blood and tears are nothing but memories, that all he has to do is live in peace with the others on the farm? He's wrong. And, if he thinks he's seen the Demon at its worst, he'll be wrong again.This time the journey is going to test him to the limits, all of those experiences from his past are going to be needed now. Ken's days of killing people are coming back to stare him in the face.The Demon is on his knees, if Ken can get the others to a place where the Dark One is planning a final showdown, get them there and tear it apart, then the nightmare will be over. He just has to prepare them for the battle, a simple task and one in which he relishes. But, as is always the case when dealing with these strange parallels, things are never quite as they seem, sometimes they are the exact opposite. He's about to learn that some people will give everything in the pursuance of their own goals. From the tranquillity of the farm to the insanity of jumping across time, from the love of his friends to the fearful hatred of his enemies, Ken's journey will take him to the edge of reason. The only thing he needs to do is keep smiling - smiling, and shooting.

Sujets

Adventure (Guyana)

Adventure

Informations

Publié par	eBookPartnership.com
Date de parution	01 décembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9780956722157
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0195€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Parallel III
Demon Hunters
Paul A. Rice
The characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © Text Paul A. Rice
ISBN: 978-0-9567221-5-7
eBook version published by ebookpartnership.com
www.ebookpartnership.com
First Edition
The right of Paul A. Rice to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.
www.riceauthor.co.uk
Contents
Seeds of Darkness
Prologue
Chapter One Michael meets the Demon
Chapter Two The Tale of Mary
Chapter Three Michael gets the Message
Chapter Four A Full Hand
Chapter Five Train Hard to Fight Easy
Chapter Six Maggie's Song
Chapter Seven Knowledge and Defence
Chapter Eight Back to Back
Chapter Nine A Stitch in Time…
Chapter Ten Missing Pieces
Chapter Eleven Reality or Imagination
Chapter Twelve No More Yesterdays
Chapter Thirteen The Trek
Chapter Fourteen Memories and Darkness
Chapter Fifteen No More Tomorrows
Chapter Sixteen Finale – The End of the Beginning
Seeds of Darkness
They lie within all of us, fluttering like phantoms amongst everything that we are, and although the existence of such things has been acknowledged for some time now, their composition and reason for being are as yet unknown. Only in recent years has the magnitude of their wraith like presence started to become more understood. Those who have never seen their other faces, the twisted and wretched ones, call them by simple names, names such as dark matter or maybe, dark energy. Those who have seen the other side, the wickedness, tend to use a different turn of phrase. Words such as devil, or dragon, are but a few of the names they would choose to call these things that cause such misery and chaos. Whatever the term may be, one thing is certain – it, the darkness, is still there. It wafts in silent menace amongst the stars and galaxies, drifting like a fairground hooker between the innumerable suns, countless moons and endless universes. It is amongst all of us, searching for trouble, hitching rides with those foolish enough to pull over after one glimpse of the imagined pleasures that its silky black looks so falsely promise. Be it matter or anti-matter, the darkness changes everything for everyone, in every dimension. Some say the invisible blackness is, in point of fact, the origin of all that we are; they say it is our heritage and that without it there would be nothing, we would be nothing. Those who know these things tell us that the darkness is an invisible weave, one that holds the very fabric of our existence together. They say it has been with us since the dawn of time, since the shattering silence of the biggest Big Bang of all. They say that it will stay until the end, until the end of us, until the end of everything.
***
Some have been selected to fight the effects of darkness, to prevent the life changing evil its miniature particles bring with it. They have been chosen to fight the Demon. Never to cease in their quest of carrying battle to the fools who have accepted it as their master. And, just like when anti-matter smashes violently into its arch-enemy, matter – when the Dark One meets George and his kind, then in a similar display of violence, the sparks really will fly.
George has a name for those who are willing to fight.
He calls them ‘Demon Hunters’.
Prologue
One Last Dance
Life on the farm was good in every way, almost too good, perhaps. Time had seemingly taken to standing still for all those who lived there. Their days filled with the pleasures of an uncomplicated lifestyle. The farm itself had become like a cocoon, it cosseted them within the bosom of its ever-changing seasons and seemed to have flowered alongside their own happy fulfilment. The changes they'd made to the old place seemed to have repaid them handsomely. The house, the land and even the air around them, all appeared to have taken out a new lease on life. Maggie, as she stood down by the lake looking out across the calm water with the windmill at her back, would sometimes look them in the eye and murmur: “Such changes, such beauty, the place seems to have bloomed?” In many ways, she was right. It was not just in the material improvements, either – the people who lived within the soft caress of the farm's surroundings had also benefited, it was as though they too, had somehow become more nourished. Ken and Jane had become even closer to each other, and for a couple who were already close in so many ways, this even deeper feeling of togetherness was something neither of them would have thought possible. The goodness of the farm and of the people, who surrounded them, filled their lives with almost total happiness. The one blemish upon the shiny veneer of their new life came in the form of a deep and undeniable sadness, a certain irremovable needle of pain, one whose occasional sharp prick was wielded by the memories of their eternally absent friend, Michael Wyppen. His death seemed as fresh today as it had been all those years ago. Sometimes, Ken felt as though he could still smell Mikey's blood.
Michael's only nephew, a boy whose parents had chosen to name him after that very same deceased uncle, had flourished in his own right. From the moment he was born, the child had leapt into a spurt of growth, one that would have rivalled even the finest of beanstalks, which any fairytale boy called ‘Jack’ may have planted. He seemed, much like the fabled green plant, to have grown overnight. It was a fitting comparison as the boy's middle name was Jack. His full name was in fact, Michael Jack Tolder. He now stood at over six feet in height and had taken on many of the traits of his huge father, one Dwayne ‘Red’ Tolder. Powerful arms, wide shoulders and a heavily muscled chest gave away those inherited genes. However, unlike his father, it was the grace he possessed that made him stand out from the crowd. His mother's own genes made sure they'd had their say in that department and Michael's movement seemed almost panther like at times. When seen side by side, Tori and her son were very much like two peas in a pod. Only his physical size and the unusual shade of his hair, gave clue as to who his father was. That dark, bronze hair was nearly as exceptional as was the incredible strength that lay within his powerful young body. Michael was also highly intelligent and had achieved excellent grades at the local school, which nestled in a green valley five miles the other side of town. His sporting prowess was beyond reproach and would easily have gained him a scholarship to any number of colleges, should he have been destined to follow that particular path? Yes, Michael Tolder, or ‘Young Mikey’ as he was endearingly referred to by all those on the farm, would have almost certainly been successful at anything he decided to do with his life. All-in-all he was an outstanding specimen, and was much loved by all those who knew him.
It was on the young man's fifteenth birthday when Ken suddenly realised how old he, himself, had become. Jane caught him sitting on the veranda in Mike's old rocking chair – it still creaked in exactly the same way it had always done, right from the very first moment they'd arrived on the farm. Ken was sitting with his elbows locked into his knees, hands together with his first two fingers protruding like a pistol and propping up his chin as he sat there, staring into the distance. She sat next to him, sliding quietly onto the bench he had made to accommodate their growing family. Looked across at her husband, she said, “Penny for them, my love?” and then smiled at the a little start he gave as her soft voice disturbed his daydreaming.
Ken looked up and turned to her with his eyes focusing back into the present. “Huh, oh, well… I was just thinking about things, worrying about how time passes, you know?” He said, sitting back, stretching his arms out and then clasping his hands behind his head. The rocking chair creaked as if in sympathy with his mellow thoughts. Turning those thoughts into words, Ken continued: “Do you realise how old we are? If we were back in the Lodge, back there in that other place, well, I'd be damn near sixty-two, I mean, bloody hell… sixty-two!” He laughed and looked down at his large hands, which he'd unfolded and rested in his lap, “Sixty two, that's just crazy?” He laughed again and turned to her: “You don't look a day older than when I first met you, Jane. Not one single day older!” He said and winked cheekily.
Jane smiled and reached over for him. He stretched out with his left hand, subconsciously offering it to her in the way he'd been doing since she had first fallen in love with him. She took it and rubbed the back of his wrist with her thumb. Looking down at his hand, and then back into his face, she said: “Yes, well let me tell you something, it's exactly the same for me, you look like you're in your thirties?” Ken snorted sarcastically. She smacked his hand lightly: “Ken! Seriously, no one thinks about age more than a woman, and I'll tell you one thing for sure – we aren't ageing like normal people should be. Maybe in our minds we are, but physically we most certainly aren't! It must be this place, this dimension, or parallel, or whatever it is that bloody well goes on around here? Sometimes it scares me…” She gripped his hand tightly, before reluctantly releasing it as her husband rose to his feet. Ken walked to the front of the veranda and leaned on the railing, the thick piece