Alex Wise vs. the Cosmic Shift - Hardcover

Benton-Walker, Terry J.

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0593564332 ISBN 13: 9780593564332

Verlag: Labyrinth Road, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

No one ever said saving the world would be easy. In the second installment of this thrilling fantasy series all about finding your inner hero, a 12-year-old boy leads the charge against the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Alex Wise is no superhero. Or at least, he doesn't feel like one. Sure, he vanquished Death and saved his sister Mags—with the help of some new magic powers, his best friend Loren and demi-god Liam. But the apocalypse shows no signs of slowing down. Now, Alex and his friends will have to find new allies and face new dangers—from battling a giant snake in a literal ghost town and infiltrating the Horsemen’s new home base on the Vegas Strip…on the back of a dragon. 

With everyone looking to him for answers, Alex isn't sure he's cut out for this world saving thing. And the closer he gets to Liam, the farther away he feels from Loren and from Mags, who hasn't been the same since she was possessed by Death. How can Alex lead a team if he doesn't even feel like he deserves to be a part of it? 

“Never has the apocalypse been so fun!"
—Mark Oshiro, author of THE INSIDERS and co-author with Rick Riordan of THE SUN AND THE STAR: A NICO DI ANGELO ADVENTURE.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

TERRY J. BENTON-WALKER grew up in rural Georgia and now lives in Atlanta with his husband and son, where he writes fiction for adults, young adults, and children. He’s also the author of the young adult contemporary fantasy series Blood Debts. He has an industrial engineering degree from Georgia Tech and an MBA from Georgia State. When he’s not writing, he can be found gaming, eating ice cream, or both.

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1

Hide-­and-­Seeker

I’m nobody’s superhero.

At least . . . I don’t feel like one. Yeah, I might’ve vanquished Death, the leader of the Horsemen, and saved my little sister from his possession at the same time, but our parents couldn’t care less about my alleged “heroics.” Ever since we returned to our safe house in the Hollywood Hills two weeks ago with our parents in tow, they won’t let any of us out of their sights—­which makes this whole “superhero” business waaay more complicated than it should be.

And speaking of complicated . . .

I take a deep breath and knock on the closed bedroom door. The heavy sigh on the other side before the call for me to enter stings, but I push past that familiar pain.

I hate that I’ve gotten so good at that, despite kinda having no choice.

I step inside the room, leaving the door open behind me. My sister sits on the edge of the bed, quietly tying a scarf around her cloud-­white cornrows. Mags could never tie her headscarves quite right before, so Mom would always have to help her out. This is the first time I’ve seen her do it on her own—­and as good as Mom; better, even.

On the corner of the chest of drawers beside the door is an untouched stack of books I’d borrowed from Mr. Freddie, the kind old Black man who owns the small grocery store on Sunset Boulevard. I met him a few weeks ago when Loren and I saved him from being tortured by the Horsemen’s human minions, better known as Riders. I pick up a copy of The Sun and the Star and flip through the pages before skimming the text on the back, but my mind’s too rattled to take in anything I’m reading.

“I thought you’d be all over this,” I tell her, turning the cover toward her. “Don’t you like Percy Jackson?”

Mags shrugs and stares down at her feet, which still don’t touch the floor from where she sits. She grabs her purple-­framed glasses from on the bed beside her and puts them on.

They’re not even her prescription. They’re just a pair of old reading glasses she found on a carousel in Mr. Freddie’s store. She popped the lenses out and wears the empty frames every day now. The whole nasty ordeal with Death left her with healing abilities, which apparently restored her vision, too. But when I tried to talk to her about why she’s wearing the lens-­less glasses, I must’ve asked too many questions because she gave that same heavy sigh that I know too well and walked off on me. I’ve been too afraid of upsetting her to ask anything else about it.

Death’s possession changed Mags. No longer is she the chatterbox whose primary objective every day was to annoy me as much as possible. And her brown eyes, which once shone with unbridled life, are now dulled by sadness. I’m terrified they’ll never shine the same way again.

She’s my little sister in so many ways, and yet, in too many others, she’s not anymore.

I set the novel back on top of the stack. “What’s going on with you, Mags?” I ask, staring at the books to avoid making eye contact with her, afraid of what I’ll see in her eyes now. “You used to love reading. I picked all these out just for you . . . because I thought they might help you feel better . . . maybe even help you get back to your old self.”

She grimaces at the floor. “I haven’t felt like reading, and you constantly harassing me about it is really starting to make it feel like a chore—­”

“Huh?” I hadn’t thought I’d been that pushy about the books . . . I only wanted to help. . . . I only ever want to help. . . .

“This is the third time you’ve brought those books up in the past two days,” she tells me. “I wish you’d let it go. In fact, you can return them to Mr. Freddie.” She pauses to chew her lip, her brow furrowing as if internally debating something else. “Stop trying to fix me,” she says after an awkward moment. “It’s annoying. I’m not the same person anymore, and I’m sorry you don’t like it, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.”

“What really happened to you during those two weeks?” I say, spreading my hands on either side of me. “What did Death do to you that changed you so much in that short time?”

She looks up at me now, eyes narrowed into a hardened gaze. “It was long enough,” she says, and I’m about to explain that that wasn’t what I meant, when she very curtly tells me, “I don’t want to talk about that right now. Is that what you came in here for?”

I cross my arms over my chest. Her words rolled the stone in my gut, the one that conceals one of my biggest fears: my little sister resents me for not saving her from Death sooner.

She’s never said it, and to be quite honest, I’m not sure she would or ever will, but I can feel it. Though not with my Sense, because she’s immune to my empathic magic.

Whenever I attempt to Sense what she’s feeling, all I get is cold, sterile nothingness. It’s as if the place in her mind where her emotions live was cleared and left standing empty, completely hollowed out. I’m not sure what’s up with that and will probably never know, seeing as how that’s one of the many subjects she refuses to talk about with me.

I’m about to ask another question but decide against it once I remember that I should probably save some of my spoons for the upcoming main event.

“I called a meeting—­”

“Another one?” she groans.

It’s my turn to scowl. I’m doing my best, and these critiques from her are starting to feel more pointed—­and sharp.

“I’m coming,” she says before I can rebut.

“Aight,” I mumble, and leave without turning back.

As angry and frustrated as I am at the moment, the sound of her footsteps several paces behind me brings a sense of relief that’s as annoying as it is comforting.

But once I step into the living room, my chest constricts with a new twinge of anxiety. Yet again, I’m planning to broach the topic of saving the world with our overbearing, overprotective parents who, if we’re keeping it a buck, have zero ability to protect us if the Horsemen were to attack right this moment.

Sixth grade had nothing on the apocalypse. But even the end of the world pales in comparison to managing the various complex and exasperating personalities of our parents.

This is our third meeting on this topic, and we’re no closer to a solution than we were five days ago when we had our first group discussion. They’ve started to feel like a sadistic version of debate club, kids versus adults, except adults get the power to change the rules willy-­nilly.

I stand to one side of the living room with Liam and Loren on either side of me as I launch into pleading my case for saving the world—­again.

Mags sits crisscross-­applesauce in an armchair next to us, and our stepbrother, Nick, perches silently on the side of her seat.

Dad, my stepmom, Angela (Nick’s mom), and my mom are all seated on the couch facing us.

Loren’s mom, Mrs. Blakewell, a petite, bright, tawny-­skinned...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Labyrinth Road
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2024
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593564332
• ISBN 13: 9780593564332
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 272
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar