In Odd We Trust (Graphic Novel)

In Odd We Trust (Graphic Novel)

Queenie Chan, Dean Koontz

Language: English

Pages: 224

ISBN: 0345499662

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


“Meet a young man named Odd . . . who helps the dead get even."

From the infinite imagination of #1 New York Times bestselling author Dean Koontz comes the suspenseful graphic-novel debut of a natural-born hero with a supernatural twist.

Odd Thomas is a regular nineteen-year-old with an unusual gift: the ability to see the lingering spirits of the dead. To Odd, it’s not such a big deal. And most folks in sleepy Pico Mundo, California, are much more interested in the irresistible pancakes Odd whips up at the local diner. Still, communing with the dead can be useful. Because while some spirits only want a little company . . . others want justice.

When the sad specter of a very frightened boy finds its way to him, Odd vows to root out the evil suddenly infecting the sunny streets of Pico Mundo. But even with his exceptional ability–plus the local police and his pistol-packing girlfriend, Stormy, backing him–is Odd any match for a faceless stalker who’s always a step ahead . . . and determined to kill again?

Everything Burns

My Friend Maigret (Inspector Maigret, Book 31)

Worst Fears Realized (Stone Barrington, Book 5)

Killing Plato (Jack Shepherd, Book 2)

The Darkest Evening of the Year

Telepathy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

other young men and women currently adrift between their twentieth and twenty-first birthdays. In truth, I have nothing to say to that narrow audience. In my experience, I don’t care about most of the things that other twenty-year-old Americans care about. Except survival, of course. I lead an unusual life. By this I do not mean that my life is better than yours. I’m sure that your life is filled with as much happiness, charm, wonder, and abiding fear as anyone could wish. Like me, you are

part of a theater-lobby display promoting Blue Hawaii, was where I’d left it. Occasionally, it moves—or is moved—during the night. I showered with peach-scented soap and peach shampoo, which were given to me by Stormy Llewellyn. Her real first name is Bronwen, but she thinks that makes her sound like an elf. My real name actually is Odd. According to my mother, this is an uncorrected birth-certificate error. Sometimes she says they intended to name me Todd. Other times she says it was Dobb,

it was no more real to us than the Sea of Tranquility, that vast dark plain on the face of the moon. Occasionally, when excavating for a new subdivision of tract homes on the outskirts of town, developers had struck rich veins of seashells in their deeper diggings. Once upon an ancient age, waves lapped these shores. If you put one of those shells to your ear, you will not hear the surf breaking but only a dry mournful wind, as if the shell has forgotten its origins. At the foot of the

concern. “What’s wrong? Anything I can do?” “Something you’ve already done,” I said. Letting go of Penny’s hand, I leaned into the Firebird from the passenger’s side, switched off the engine, and plucked the key from the ignition. Startled, Harlo grabbed for the keys but missed. “Hey, Odd, no foolin’ around, okay? I have a tight schedule.” I never heard Penny’s voice, but in the rich yet silent language of the soul, she must have spoken to me. What I said to Harlo Landerson was the essence

concern. “What’s wrong? Anything I can do?” “Something you’ve already done,” I said. Letting go of Penny’s hand, I leaned into the Firebird from the passenger’s side, switched off the engine, and plucked the key from the ignition. Startled, Harlo grabbed for the keys but missed. “Hey, Odd, no foolin’ around, okay? I have a tight schedule.” I never heard Penny’s voice, but in the rich yet silent language of the soul, she must have spoken to me. What I said to Harlo Landerson was the essence

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