City of Night (Dean Koontz's Frankenstein, Book 2) by Dean Koontz, Ed Gorman

By Dean Koontz, Ed Gorman

From the prestigious mind's eye of Dean Koontz comes a robust transforming of 1 of the vintage tales of all time. when you imagine you recognize the legend, you recognize simply part the reality. this is the secret, the parable, the fear, and the magic of…

Dean Koontz's urban of the Night

They are more suitable, heal greater, and imagine quicker than any people ever created—and they have to be destroyed. yet no longer even Victor Helios—once Frankenstein—can cease the engineered killers he’s set unfastened on a reign of terror via modern day New Orleans. Now the one wish rests in a one-time “monster” and his all-too-human companions, Detectives Carson O’Connor and Michael Maddison. Deucalion’ s centuries-old background started as Victor’s first and failed try to construct the suitable human–and it truly is fated to finish within the final disagreement among a damned creature and his mad writer. yet first Deucalion needs to damage a monstrosity now not even Victor’ s malignant brain can have imagined—an indestructible entity that steps out of humankind’ s collective nightmare with one function: to switch us.

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Additional resources for City of Night (Dean Koontz's Frankenstein, Book 2)

Sample text

Nobody who lived through Drago would ever forget. Elise, either, for that matter. You just didn't want to talk about it. He picked up a paperback novel from the other desk in the pine-panelled office, the one shared by his two deputies. Ed McBain: 87th Precinct. It must belong to Milo Fernandez, the trainee. Roy Nevins's taste ran more to Hustler. Milo was an eager kid, still excited by the idea of police work. Roy Nevins wasn't excited by much of anything these days, except finishing up his twenty years of public service and living the rest of his life comfortably off the taxpayers of California.

I'm accustomed to that. And you can listen. That'll be a rare treat for me. ' The big man strode easily through the brush carrying Malcolm in such a way as to minimize movement of his ruined ankle. The rhythm of the man's pace lulled the boy into a semi-doze. When he spoke, the big man's rumbling voice was comforting. 'My name is Jones,' he said. 'There used to be more to it, but I figure that doesn't matter, seeing as I'm the only one living out here, and not likely to be confused with anybody else.

Derak lived alone because he was the leader. Sometimes a woman stayed there with him. Malcolm seemed to remember a woman from before. When he was little. The woman was dark and lithe, and smelled of warm wild flowers. Her eyes were the same deep shade of green as Malcolm's. She was gone now. He wondered about her, but he was too timid to ask. Malcolm felt ill at ease sitting alone with Derak on a sofa in the small house. He perspired, and he did not know what to do with his hands. Derak smiled.

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