Storming Paradise Read Online Free PDF

here, whose edge was the very end of the street that was hosting the party. In fact, he realized, feeling suddenly a lot more sober than he had just thirty seconds before, it was precisely the end of the street where the juncture lay—and Hercules was standing on one side of it while he was on the other.
    Hercules, too, was all too aware that something strange was happening. He had spun to look around him, searching for the source of the tremor even as the street started to sink—an inch, then two—into the ground.
    â€œHercules, get out of there,” Iolaus urged, grabbing his partner’s arm. “Something’s happening to the street.”
    Still facing away from Iolaus, Hercules looked at the street and saw the bunting swaying in place and the way the tables were starting to fall over, spilling their contents. The people, it seemed, did not notice or care—the dancers continued their dancing, the musicians their tunes, and the few drinkers who were still awake enough to pour more simply poured, laughing too loudly at what was occurring all around them.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Hercules asked.
    Iolaus’ eyes were fixed on the ground, watching as the street sunk another inch, dropping Hercules and its other attendees down into the ground. “The whole street is sinking!” he shouted. “Come on, buddy—let’s get out of here before we get swallowed up!”
    Hercules spun, turning back to face Iolaus, and his friend recognized his expression of fixed determination. “We need to do something, come on!”
    An instant later, Hercules was running down the street, shouting a warning at the top of his lungs. “Earthquake! Get off the street! Get off the street!”
    Iolaus stepped down onto the street and followed his partner’s lead, repeating the warning and struggling to wake up the sleeping drunks. This was not how he had imagined this party would end.
    Despite Hercules’ warnings, no one seemed much bothered by the turn of events. Most of the party’s attendees seemed quite satisfied to continue their games of chance, recite their anecdotes or dance with the pretty girls with the fluttering ribbons.
    â€œIt’ll pass,” one assured Hercules.
    â€œIf this is how I go, at least I did it before the hangover kicked in,” another assured him, a man with a patchy beard and a ruddy face.
    â€œMaybe they’re right,” Hercules muttered, looking around the street. Over ninety people were here, and not one of them seemed to be in a rush to leave. They had a point—it wasn’t as if being on another street would guarantee their safety. Except . . .
    â€œHercules!” Iolaus called from the far end of the street, the end where Hercules had caught him just a few minutes before. “Look!”
    Hercules looked at where his friend pointed, saw how the street had dropped so far that now there was what looked like a wall of dirt standing at the street’s end, four feet in height like a stable gate. Hercules glanced down to the other end of the street, saw that it too had sunk to a similar depth, and that the buildings lining the street were now up above them, and beginning to lean in.
    â€œSorcery,” Hercules hissed, instinctively recognizing what he was looking at.
    As he spoke the word, the street sunk another foot as the bright rays of dawn touched the skies above for the first time.
    Hercules reached towards the nearest building that now rose high above him, grabbing a handful of soil from the ground there. Dried in the sun, the soil came loose in his hands and the street continued to sink. He reached farther, grasping for the stone block that served as a step into the residential building whose ground level was now five feet above him.
    â€œHercules?” Iolaus called. “You got any bright ideas?”
    Hercules clung onto the stone step, using all of his strength to hold the street in place and to