Black Light. by Patrick Melton, Stephen Romano, Marcus Dunstan
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Mulholland Books presents...BLACK LIGHT Now, the Black Light. I see everything. Everything the dead people see. This is where they live. If you have a supernatural problem that won't go away, you need Buck Carlsbad: private eye, exorcist, and last resort. Buck's got a way with spirits that no one else can match, and a lot of questions that only spirits can answer. Buck has spent years looking deep into the Blacklight on the other side of death, trying to piece together the mystery that destroyed his family and left him for dead. It's dangerous, but it's his only hope of finding out what happened to them - and what made him the way he is. But then Buck takes a call from a billionnaire, and finds himself working the most harrowing case of his career. One that will either reveal the shocking secrets of his life, or end it forever...
of the upper floors and terminates into a patio restaurant with a big kidney-shaped swimming pool. Everything is dark and stormy. The helicopter hovers over a landing pad directly in front of us, which is outlined in glowing yellow beads, wind spewing across the tarmac. A big metal monster with plenty of room for company. I’ve never seen a chopper that big before. It has three tail rotors. Godspeed within rolling thunder. The cold stare of Lauren Chance never changes as she strides alongside
who looks like a bodyguard for gangsta rappers. Turns out he is a gangsta rapper, according to one of the news commentators. Somebody named Junk-E. Apparently he has the number one single in America right now, and three of the girls are on his arm for the evening. I really do need to get out more. “I hate rap music,” Tom says. “Every song sounds the same.” “It’s all about the lyrics,” the kid says, switching the channel to MSNBC. “Some great poets come out of the street, my man.” “Tell ’em
complete fucking torture. Like rows of scalpels and ripping claws peeling back the skin of my youth, robbing me of everything. I barely manage to stand on two feet. I concentrate on grounding myself. Summoning the Pull. Trying to rip them out of my biorhythms and digest them. But they still hold out against me. Crowe attacks again. His hands never touch my body. The invisible fist punches a double whammy, folds me in half, pinning me to the deck, and I crumple there, my soul buckling under the
shadows shred the air, zeroing right in on Roosevelt’s radar ping, and I smell its breath lingering there, the sour smell of dark desperate hunger… I release the Pull. It’s hard. Painful. I almost can’t do it with so much feedback. The bolt tears from me, takes a year of my life with it—and it gets to the mark just a second before the mark gets to Roosevelt. I feel the white-hot frenzy of shredded insanity as my mind connects with its murky, burning substance for just one second, and it
a hold on the gun. Blacklight again. Then back again. He’s fighting me hard. The rioters who want to kill me freeze in place, feeling the burn of dark energy pouring out of me the same way Maxton does, the two of us struggling between worlds as we play tug-of-war with Smith and Wesson. It flickers on and off across our minds and inside our eyes like the stuttering shocks of an exploding neon sign. He snarls and his finger hits the trigger. More panic in the crowd. The gun fires and there’s