Tory Brennan - great niece of Dr Temperance Brennan - and the Virals return for their most terrifying adventure yet. Life appears peaceful on Loggerhead Island — rescued from financial disaster, the research institute is flourishing once more. But the tranquillity is quickly shattered when Tory Brennan and her technophile gang discover a mysterious box buried in the ground.
Morris Island has barely had a chance to return to normality after the high profile trial of the Gamemaster, when two local students seem to vanish into thin air. Tory Brennan and the Virals pack move quickly in their attempts to discover what has happened to their twin classmates. A terrifying new Virals adventure for Tory Brennan - great niece of Dr Temperance Brennan - and the Virals team as they come face to face with their greatest enemy.
Tory Brennan and the Virals are forced to confront the existence of a rival pack - The Trinity - who wants them off the scene. Virals 5 books in series. Virals Summary. Book 1. I wish I could. Ever since the storm, this odd sensitivity randomly comes and goes, like a memory just out of reach. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. The mutations varied slightly with each of us. Who knows. Hiram can see with spectacular precision, far outstripping the rest of us. Shelton has the best ears. Ben becomes strongest and fastest. A little weirder. Each has a specific odor, if you can catch the scent and know what to look for.
During the hurricane, somehow, I shattered the mental walls separating us, allowing the Virals to share thoughts as easily as words. No: more than that. Five beings, blending to form one unified consciousness. The pack became whole. Our powers, fully unleashed. I was stuck. These special talents have saved our lives more than once, but we struggle to control them. Something skipped inside my brain. The connection wavered. I tried to focus my concentration, but the tenuous link refused to solidify. Lately, my powers had seemed. Tiny disturbances had been cropping up for weeks.
Suddenly, pressure built inside my chest. The air leaked from my lungs. As I struggled to catch my breath, an electric shiver crawled along my spine. And things. It felt like a fridge was dropped on me, then my powers just. School should be a blast. Since foiling the Gamemaster, we Morris Islanders had become something of a sensation at Bolton Prep. Heads up, though—our cat uses it as his emergency litter box. It smells pretty bad.
The last rays of daylight were fading as the sun melted into Schooner Creek. The air remained sticky and warm, one of those classic spring nights in the Lowcountry. So different from the still-frigid gloom of my native Massachusetts. Our block is the only building for miles. Fair warning though—it looks absolutely terrible.
Exposure by Kathy Reichs, Brendan Reichs: | iqegumybiwyf.ml: Books
Like, shockingly, horrifically bad. A gentle breeze swept off the Atlantic, carrying the bitter tang of sea salt and stirring the azaleas Mrs. Stolowitski had planted along the front walkway. Out over the dunes, fireflies bobbed and winked like floating candles, as a legion of crickets began their nightly serenade. The hits never stop.
Hiding will only make it worse. Slipping inside, I climbed the three steps to the main level. Before me stretched our living room, dining room, kitchen and breakfast nook, all lined up in a row. Double doors opened onto a spacious roof deck with a spectacular ocean view. Our furniture used to be strictly Ikea. Simple, durable catalog gear to make any yuppie proud. Those days were over. Delicate antiques now dominated the common areas. Gilded mahogany side tables. Lacquered chests and brazilwood bureaus. A tassel-trimmed silk ottoman. Pointy, upholstered chairs. The fancy pieces looked so.
The bizarrely asymmetrical coffee table seemed destined to collapse at any moment. A pair of living room lamps resembled medieval torture devices. It was mine. No longer.
Exposure: Virals, Book 4
As Kit explained, the bigger bedroom was better suited to handle a double occupancy. A massive oak had reorganized her kitchen, after crashing through the two stories above it. Pouring rain and gale-force winds had done the rest. Coop slunk past me and beelined for his food dish. Whitney tracked him from the corner of her eye.
Whitney considered Coop a wild animal infesting the property. Coop considered Whitney a meddling interloper disturbing the peace. Whitney desperately wanted for us to be friends. But her personality and priorities made it all but impossible. And failed. But Kit adored his Barbie girl, so I kept those thoughts to myself.
As far as he knew, the bimbo and I were getting along okay. Or even top half. Drunk driver. Mom never stood a chance. The pain still surfaces unexpectedly. A raw wound that never quite heals. I try to hide the eruptions, but the guys can always tell. They do their best to support me even though it makes them uncomfortable. Kit and I got off to a rocky start.
Real progress had been made since those first awkward weeks. As if making up for prior negligence, Kit now watched me like a hawk. Which was fortunate. Tossing my bag onto one of the awful chairs, I flopped on the living room couch, the lone piece of furniture to survive Extreme Makeover: Whitney Edition. Now, please. I laid out the flatware and took my usual seat. Whitney began distributing her latest masterpiece: chicken-fried steak, okra, mashed potatoes, and butter beans, everything slathered in thick, beefy gravy.
Lights out. Her culinary prowess was the sole perk of sharing a roof. Whitney turned disbelieving eyes on Kit. Members of a debutante class are lifelong friends. You girls will be grouped together when you join the League. Apparently my debut was merely a prelude to a life sentence. Tory, this is simply what you do as a member of polite society. Only daughters of the finest families are even considered for admission. My jaw clenched. Business as usual. The hurricane damage has been repaired, and the monkeys seem unaffected. Overall, we were very lucky. Right outside, on the front lawn.
We could rent a white pavilion, tables and chairs, and serve barbeque and iced tea. Maybe have some games. Or even badminton! And door prizes, of course. Whitney clapped her hands, delighted by her own idea. And LIRI should cover the entire cost. A gesture like that would show the neighbors how much you care about their well-being. With no court appearance that morning, he was back to the inside-out jacket, with the blue lining exposed.
For well over a century, admission to its hallowed halls has been a coveted and expensive status symbol. All in all, not a bad deal. Hi, Shelton, and I were on the backstretch of our sophomore year, my second at the academy. To most of our classmates we were aliens—unknowable foreign beings, dropped from the sky to spoil their lavish party. For a few, our presence was actually offensive. We had no place in their indulgent, privileged world. Everyone knew we attended on scholarships.
The previous semester Ben had been in half our classes, too, despite being a junior. Obviously, he was no longer around. Sometimes it felt like a limb was missing. For a group of middle-class, unapologetic science geeks, Bolton was a social minefield. The mocking began the first time I opened my locker, and found a Barbie doll dressed like a homeless woman.
Freshman year had been brutal. No other way to describe it. Only my Morris Island buddies had kept me from demanding a transfer. The Gamemaster saga had been headline news for months. Every infinitesimal detail of the case had been examined, debated, printed, broadcast, and blogged. There were seven Tumblr accounts dedicated to the trial alone. Our classmates had learned what almost happened at the debutante ball.
Former tormentors now regarded us with something close to awe. A few seemed too intimidated to even approach. The majority still avoided us, unable to bridge the gap from grudging respect to actual friendship. But the taunting had stopped. The pranks had been discontinued.
Nothing could convince them otherwise. Hi pounded his chest—once, twice—then strode through the archway. Shelton and I followed him down the cobblestone path. Students filled the courtyard, chatting in groups among the benches and delicate rock gardens, soaking in the morning sunlight before first bell. The usual morning scene.
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A deep breath. Then, face set to neutral, I fired down the hallway. AP Calculus was first period. I needed my book. Did that guy really pull a knife on you? Jason had the whole Nordic thing going. Ice-blue eyes. Pale skin. White-blond hair. His body was Thor-sized, too. Captain of our lacrosse team, Jason was a sick athlete. These days, Jason seemed to pop up everywhere I went.
Continues… Excerpted from "Exposure" by. Excerpted by permission of Penguin Young Readers Group. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. Fans will eagerly await the next installment. See All Customer Reviews. Shop Teen Books.
Add to Wishlist. USD 8. Sign in to Purchase Instantly. Age Range: 12 - 14 Years. About the Author. Kathy Reichs www. Place of Birth: Chicago, Illinois. Education: B. My guess is, they were concealing evidence. My head whipped to the windows facing the backyard. I saw a dark form kneeling in the grass outside. She began to whimper. The red light watched. Time passed, unmarked by any further movement.
The whimpers soon returned. Suddenly, a loud bang broke the stillness. Two pairs of eyes darted, nervously probing the impenetrable gloom. The noise repeated, followed by a shriek of metal. Instinctually, the boy and girl drew closer together. The rasping clatter grew, echoing off the ancient stone walls.
A shadow, blacker than the surrounding dark, materialized overhead. The boy and girl watched, breathless, their fingers interlocked. The bucket lurched to a stop. Dangled five feet from the floor. The boy stood. Cautiously peered over the rim. Inside was a hunk of stale bread, already wilting in the damp, fetid air. The prisoners attacked the loaf ravenously. Devoured the paltry meal in seconds. The boy shook his head. The girl began to weep. The bucket swung its way skyward. Disappeared into the gloom. Water fell.
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The red light gleamed. In moments, all was dark and silent once more. A jolt of adrenaline tore through me. And this pompous toolbag showed no signs of winding down. I cleared my throat. Shifted on the witness stand. Parrish sighed dramatically. Honestly, I was just tired. Tired, and incredibly on edge. I had to watch every single word. To watch me. Not even close.
Pit stains do not increase credibility. So far, I was struggling on all counts. A quick glance at the jury. All twelve were eyeballing me. Was that pity in their eyes? Just get through this. Ben did.
Common Sense says
So can I. Because Ben and I were definitely lying. There was no way around it. Putting our lives at risk. Not gonna happen. Another set was staring back. No welcome there. Only anger. Oh yes, plenty of that. Had he been glaring at me the whole time? I tore my eyes away, searched for a more comfortable landing spot.
I exhaled slowly. At least one person was in my corner. Side note. Not now. I spotted Hi and Shelton, sitting beside Kit. Relaxed a fraction more. Even Hiram Stolowitski was taking this seriously. Inspired by Your Browsing History. Trudi Trueit. Rick Riordan. Max Brallier and Douglas Holgate. Tracks in the Snow. Lucy Jane Bledsoe. Running Wild. The Witches. Monstrous Devices. Damien Love. Matt Forbeck. Dead Voices. Katherine Arden. The Explorers: The Quest for the Kid.
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