The Tenth Order Read Online Free PDF Page A

thing for trash?” The man made his thin giggle, and out of the corner of his eye Hunter saw figures slip out of the piled garbage littering the back street. He eyed the entrance to the alley, but a couple of desiccated figures were coming up behind Hunter, blocking the way. He looked forward, thinking he might sprint past the hooded man and make it to the street, but was blocked by the back entrance to an old cathedral. There was a door, but it was barred by a series of heavy-looking locks, and Hunter doubted there was anyone at this hour who would hear him knock.
    He weighed his odds. There were four men in front now: the hooded one who’d laughed at Hunter, and three others that looked just as high as their leader. One of them kept rubbing his arms, and the others trembled and barked short peals of laughter. Worse, there were two more joining them, one on Hunter’s left and one on his right.
    Six. He eyed the thugs. All strung out. They probably haven’t eaten in days, but the drugs will keep them fast, and they’re not going to feel anything I throw at them .
    “I don’t have any money,” Hunter shrugged and motioned at his scrubs. “Left my wallet in my other pants.”
    The hooded man smiled sickly. “Sorry pal, but we’re not a trusting bunch. Don’t think we can take your word on it.”
    They weren’t leaving him any choice. He had to fight—even Hunter’s dad could understand that. He smiled and felt his guilt fade, leaving him clear and focused. The thugs must have seen him relax, because the leader’s smile dropped and he shouted, “Get him!”
    Hunter didn’t give them a chance. His left arm shot out and grabbed the man on his left, wrapping around his hand. Hunter flexed and felt the bones snap in a satisfying crunch. He flung the man back, ignoring his cries, and leaned backward, letting his right leg shoot out and connect with his second attacker’s stomach. As his kick sent the man flying into the wall, Hunter’s headache flared into sudden life.
    Not now , Hunter pleaded. Just a few more seconds .
    But the visions had already begun.
    As the remaining four raced toward him from the entrance of the alley their forms wavered for a moment, and Hunter thought he saw swords fill their hands. A dusty red filter settled over the scene, painting the night blood-red, and a keening cry filled the air.
    As the first of the four reached him, Hunter bolted to the side and let his right leg snap behind him. The man tripped, tumbling into the thug who was trying to pick himself up after Hunter’s first kick. Hunter jumped to his feet, but not before one of the attacker’s fists smashed into his temple. He felt the punch land, but only registered a dim throb of pain. The fight was on in full, and Hunter could ignore the pain. His temples were already throbbing from his headache—physical blows couldn’t compare.
    Hunter squinted through the red haze, eying the remaining three warily. The original hooded man was still with them, but the feverish glint in his eyes had changed to doubt. Their hands wavered in Hunter’s eyes, now holding swords and spears, now empty. The keening cries of phantom voices crescendoed, driving all other sound from his ears.
    One of the men, his hands trembling from more than just drugs, turned to their leader and said something, but all Hunter could hear was that strange static-laced language that accompanied his dreams.
    While I’m awake? What the hell is happening to me?
    Whatever the thug said, the hooded man didn’t seem to care. He still looked doubtful, but Hunter had been in enough fights to know when a man was beat. This man wasn’t. Hunter flexed his biceps, feeling the muscles tighten against his scrubs. The power, the rage that filled him when his fought—it was all here. The visions continued to throb in time with his aching head, but Hunter only had eyes for the men in front of him.
    Hunter’s hands filled with his own swords, now. His sweaty grip tightened on