The Never War (Pendragon)
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The third installment in an epic series of adventures
Fourteen-year-old Bobby Pendragon is a loyal friend, sports star, devoted pet owner -- and Traveler. Along with his uncle Press, Bobby has visited the alternate dimension of Denduron and participated in a civil war. He's also waded through the endangered underwater territory of Cloral. Now Bobby once again finds himself thrust beyond the boundaries of time and space into a place that seems somewhat familiar: First Earth.
Bobby and the Traveler from Cloral -- Spader -- have flumed to New York City, 1937. Against a backdrop of gangsters, swing music, and the distant sound of a brewing war, the two must uncover the evil Saint Dane's newest plot. But is Bobby ready for the difficult choices ahead?
back a lougie and spit, barely missing Mark's hand. Mark spun out of the way, but Mitchell flicked his cigarette butt in the other direction and Mark nearly rolled into it. Mark had to pop to his feet or risk getting gobbed on. "What'sa matter, Dimond?" Mitchell laughed. "Twitchy?" "What do you want?" Mark grumbled. "Hey, don't get all testy with me," Mitchell shot back. "I'm just out here having a smoke. Seeing Chetwynde getting whupped up on was a bonus." Mitchell wheezed out a laugh through
thick gold frames. But the big deal in this room was the view. One whole wall had nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over Manhattan. It was pretty cool. Again, all I could think was that gangsters sure made a lot of money. "Set it out there, Buck," he ordered, pointing to a large, dark table. "How many?" He looked at me like I had just asked him how many arms he had. "There's two of us. How many did you think?" I then noticed that Ludwig Zell was sitting in an easy chair near
second for our eyes to adjust." They didn't. We stood there for two minutes, but the place stayed just as inky black as when we landed. "Get behind me/' Spader ordered protectively. "I'll walk with my hand out until I hit-" "Stop right there!" a voice boomed at us. Uh-oh. We weren't alone. This had never happened before. Was it Saint Dane? Could the quigs on Veelox talk? Was unseen danger hurtling toward us at this very second? "Back up," I said softly to Spader. I took hold of his arm and
ballroom toward me. "I've been out for hours, Gunny! Why didn't you wake me up?" "Because I was trying to find us a ride down to New Jersey," was his answer. Good answer. "I didn't find one," he added. Ooh, bad answer. "What do you mean? What about Caplesmith's car?" "I went to the fella who's been fixing it. It's in pieces all over the garage floor. He said it would take him half a day to put it back together." "Then we'll take the bus. Gunny, we gotta get down there." "That's not good,"
chain. One was to the desk in his attic, the other to the safe-deposit box. "Surprise!" Courtney said. "Follow me," Ms. Jane Jansen said as she pulled away from her desk. She looked totally bothered by the interruption. Mark and Courtney knew the routine. Ms. Jane Jansen led them through the big, round vault door, into the inner vault, and right up to the wall of doors that protected the safe-deposit boxes. "Would you like me to open it for you?" she asked with a snippy attitude, as if it