Читать онлайн «Visions»
Автор Келли Армстронг
Also by Kelley Armstrong
Bitten
Stolen
Dime Store Magic
Industrial Magic
Haunted
Broken
No Humans Involved
Personal Demon
Living with the Dead
Frostbitten
Waking the Witch
Spell Bound
13
Men of the Otherworld
Tales of the Otherworld
The Summoning
The Awakening
The Reckoning
The Gathering
The Calling
The Rising
Exit Strategy
Made To Be Broken
Wild Justice
Sea of Shadows
Table of Contents
Also by Kelley Armstrong
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Black Shuck
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
King of Pentacles
Chapter Ten
Soft Sell
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Trespass
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Special Interest Group
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Silence
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Security
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Fortress
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Shark Tank
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
FOR JEFF
CHAPTER ONE
The poppies were a bad sign. A death omen. It doesn’t get much worse than that.
We hadn’t planted them. When a gardener suggested it once, my mother had said, “They make opium from poppies,” in whispered horror, as if her society friends might jump to the conclusion we were running an opium den in our basement. I’d wanted to laugh and tell her they used a different subspecies for drugs. I hadn’t. Deep in my gut, I had not wanted poppies in our garden.
A silly superstition. Or so it seemed. But when I see omens and portents, they mean something.
It’d been three weeks since I’d left my family home, fleeing ahead of the media frenzy that erupted when I’d learned my real parents were notorious serial killers.
While I worked on building a new life, I’d decided to come back to the empty house and grab a few things. I’d tossed my suitcases in the borrowed Buick and headed out back for a swim. I was walking toward the front of the house, raking my fingers through my wet hair, when I noticed a splash of red in the rock garden.Poppies.
I reached down and rubbed a silky red petal. It felt real enough. I took out my phone, snapped a picture, and checked the result. Yep, I still saw poppies. Which meant they existed outside my head. Always a good sign.
