Seize the Night: A Novel (Christopher Snow)
Dean Koontz
Language: English
Pages: 464
ISBN: 0345533437
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
There are no rules in the dark, no place to feel safe, no escape from the shadows. But to save the day, you must seize the night.
At no time does Moonlight Bay look more beautiful than at night. Yet it is precisely then that the secluded little town reveals its menace. Now children are disappearing. From their homes. From the streets. And there’s nothing their families can do about it. Because in Moonlight Bay, the police work their hardest to conceal crimes and silence victims. No matter what happens in the night, their job is to ensure that nothing disturbs the peace and quiet of Moonlight Bay.
Christopher Snow isn’t afraid of the dark. Forced to live in the shadows because of a rare genetic disorder, he knows the night world better than anyone. He believes the lost children are still alive and that their disappearance is connected to the town’s most carefully kept, most ominous secret—a secret only he can uncover, a secret that will force him to confront an adversary at one with the most dangerous darkness of all: the darkness inside the human heart.
me far less than you might expect, because from the earliest days of childhood, I’ve lived with an awareness of my mortality that is both more acute and more chronic than what most people experience; but I’m crushed flat by the loss of someone I love. Grief is sharper than the tools of any torturer, and even the prospect of such a loss now seemed to have severed my vocal cords. “Hang loose,” Bobby said. “I’m just about untied,” I said thinly. “That’s too loose.” He hung up and so did I. More
reminded her, meaning Lilly Wing. “Anyway, I’ll be all right. Bobby’s coming.” “Ah. Then I’ll start working on your eulogy.” “I’ll tell him you said that.” “The Two Stooges.” “Let me guess—we’re Curly and Larry.” “Right. Neither of you is smart enough to be Moe.” “Love you, Goodall.” “Love you, Snowman.” I switched off the phone and was about to turn away from the window, when I saw movement in the street again. This time it wasn’t merely the shadow of a cloud gliding across a corner of
From past encounters, I had already known all this about them; but having jammed myself into the broom coffin, having regretted doing so almost as soon as I was encased, I’d been in denial. The wall slapper was still coming toward me, no more than three feet away. Its eyes continued to blaze at the gloom on all sides of it, not just at me. More hinges squeaked. A warped cabinet door stuttered open with some resistance, and another door banged shut. The cramp in my calf abruptly became more
to such an extent that they are not likely to inspire a line of cuddly stuffed toys, and if one of them is chosen as the ideal photogenic pet by the next resident of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, we can be reasonably sure that the Antichrist has his finger on the nuclear trigger. Slinking out of the canyon, among the trees, into the alley in the earliest ashen light of this cloud-shrouded morning, the coyotes looked post-apocalyptic, like the hellish hunters in a world long past its doomsday. Heads
stream of raw filth was venomously ejected, snarled and shouted with a fury so blazing that I felt seared even when exposed to only the recording of it. Evidently, Delacroix’s vocal outburst was accompanied by erratic driving. His cursing was punctuated by the blaring horns of passing cars and trucks. The cursing sputtered to a stop. The last of the horns faded. For a while Delacroix’s raggedly drawn breaths were the loudest sounds on the tape. Then: “Kevin, maybe you remember, you once told