Innocence (with bonus short story Wilderness): A Novel
NEW YORK occasions BESTSELLER • Includes Dean Koontz’s brief tale “Wilderness”—first time in print!
In Innocence, Dean Koontz blends secret, suspense, and acute perception into the human soul in a masterfully advised story that may resonate with readers forever.
He lives in solitude underneath town, an exile from society, so one can wreck him if he's ever seen.
She dwells in seclusion, a fugitive from enemies who will do her damage if she is ever found.
however the bond among them runs deeper than the tragedies that experience scarred their lives. whatever greater than chance—and not anything under destiny—has introduced them jointly in an international whose hour of reckoning is quick approaching.
Praise for Innocence
“A mystery that’s either chilling and fulfilling.”—People (four stars)
“Laced with fantastical mysticism, it’s an allegory of nonviolence, recognition and love within the face of adversity. . . . The narrative is severe, with an old school ominousness and artistically crafted descriptions. . . . An positive and unforeseen end [mirrors] his subject. whatever diverse this manner comes from Mr. Koontz’s mind's eye. Enjoy.”—Kirkus Reviews
“Mystery and terror, the mystical and romance—all mix to make Innocence a difficult and emotional experience.”—New York magazine of Books
“This novel relatively is whatever specific. . . . this can simply be the e-book Dean Koontz was once born to write.”—Thriller Books Journal
“Entrancing . . . as quick a chase-thriller as any Koontz . . . has ever developed. Written in Koontz’ overdue mellifluent and reflective demeanour . . . [Innocence is] fueled by means of deep disgust with the world’s evils [and] wish for redemption.”—Booklist (starred review)
“[An] innovative, mystical mystery from bestseller Koontz . . . this can be the main pleasant Koontz standalone in a while.”—Publishers Weekly
“Masterful storyteller Koontz promises might be his so much eerie and weird story to this point. The timeline during this outstanding tale is compact, and readers might be swept alongside as they fight to solve tricks and clues as to the genuine nature of either the protagonists and the unfolding drama. Unpredictably spine-chilling and terrifying, this can be a tale readers won’t quickly forget.”—RT e-book Reviews
“Elegant . . . enthusiasts of Koontz’s past sequence can be left hoping that Addison and Gwyneth, too, will return.”—Library Journal
The access issues of her different flats, as there isn't any want for them anymore. The alphabet she had used was once early Roman derived from the Greek via Etruscan. Expressed in Latin, it will have learn Exi, impie, exi, scelerate, exi cum omnia fallacia tua, which interprets into English as “Depart, impious one, go away, accursed one, leave with your entire deceits.” If she used to be shielded from Fogs and no matter what else may well take in tenancy in marionettes and song packing containers and other people, Ryan Telford used to be now not.
a result of velocity and strain of that existence, sanity relied on blinding oneself to the manifold miracles, astonishments, wonders, and enigmas that comprised the real global. while I acknowledged “those folks who stay hidden,” I may still in its place have stated “I who am hidden.” so far as i used to be acutely aware, no different like me existed in that city. I had lived on my own for a very long time. For twelve years, I shared this deep redoubt with Father. He died six years previous. I enjoyed him. I ignored him each day. i used to be.
Magic, yet magic has forms—light and darkish. From a pocket of her coat, Gwyneth withdrew a small can of Mace and passed it to me. From one other pocket, she took her close-contact Taser. We crossed the road and gone through the slender facet backyard of the darkish bungalow round the corner to Simon’s, into that yard. A stately monastic evergreen of a few style rose to sixty ft, offering us with a shadowed and sheltered remark element below the hood and behavior of its snow-laden boughs. Simon’s.
It?” rather than answering the query, she acknowledged, “As you heard me inform Goddard, via surrogates I’ve tracked down and acquired 4 of the six. i actually oversaw the burning of them.” “Are you going to shop for and break the opposite two?” “I haven’t recognized the place they're. Which drastically anxious me.” “Worried you—why?” We arrived on the site visitors roundabout in Washington sq., the place atop a plinth, the 1st president and mythical warrior sat on his horse, his stone face solemn, as if he.
to make sure that no flood could upward thrust greater than the plinths on which the steel cupboards stood. I beloved that mammoth house, the colonnades and the curved vaults overhead, which jogged my memory of images of the wide reservoirs built by means of Francois d’Orbay underneath the Water Terrace and gardens of the palace at Versailles. within the relocating beam of my flashlight, the shadows of the columns swung apart like nice black doorways. a customary elevator and one for freight served the basement, yet I by no means.