Читать онлайн «If You're Reading this, It's too Late: Book 2»
Автор Псевдонимус Босх
Copyright © 2008 by Pseudonymous Bosch
Illustrations copyright © 2008 by Gilbert Ford
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U. S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. (And you thought getting out of P. E. was hard!)
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
First eBook Edition: October 2008
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Similarity to persons in a state of half-life, however, is another story.
The Little, Brown and Company name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
ISBN: 978-0-316-04103-4
Contents
Forword
Preface
Chapter 33
Chapter 32
Chapter 31
Chapter 30
Chapter 29
Chapter 28
Chapter 27
Chapter 26
Chapter 25
Chapter 24
Chapter 23
Chapter 22
Chapter 21
Chapter 20
Chapter 19
Chapter 18
Chapter 17
Chapter 16
Chapter 15
Chapter 14
Chapter 13
Chapter 12
Chapter 11
Chapter 10
Chapter 9
Chapter 8
Chapter 7
Chapter 6
Chapter 5
Chapter 4
Chapter 3
Chapter 2
Chapter 1
Appendix
FOR
ENIELEDAM,
SACUL,
AND ILLIL
WITH SPECIAL THANKS TO XWP AHSATAN
FOR LETTING ME STEAL HER SOCK-MONSTER
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
PLEASE READ THE CONTRACT ON THE FOLLOWING PAGE VERY CAREFULLY. IF YOU REFUSE TO SIGN, I’ M AFRAID YOU MUST CLOSE THIS BOOK IMMEDIATELY.
P. B.
The flashlight beam darted —
Finely illustrated tarot cards of wizened kings and laughing fools . . . glistening Chinese lacquer boxes concealing spring traps and secret compartments . . .
intricately carved cups of wood and ivory designed for making coins and marbles and even fingers disappear . . . shining silver rings that a knowing hand could link and unlink as if they were made of air . . .A museum of magic.
The circle of light lingered on a luminous crystal ball, as if waiting for some swirling image to appear on the surface. Then it stopped, hesitating on a large bronze lantern — once home, perhaps, to a powerful genie.
Finally, the flashlight beam found its way to a glass display case sitting alone in the middle of the room.
“Ha! At last!” said a woman with a voice like ice.
The man behind the flashlight snickered. “Who was it that said the best place to hide something was in plain sight? What an idiot. ” His accent was odd, ominous.
“Just do it!” hissed the woman.
Grasping the heavy flashlight tight in his gloved hand, the man brought it down like an ax. Glass shattered in a cascade, revealing a milky white orb — a giant pearl? — sitting on a bed of black velvet.
Ignoring the sharp, glittering shards, the woman reached with a delicately thin hand — in a delicately thin white glove — and pulled out the orb.
