By William Peter Blatty
Simply in time for the fortieth anniversary of The Exorcist -- Legion, a vintage story of horror, is again in print!
A younger boy is located horribly murdered in a ridicule crucifixion. Is the assassin the aged girl who witnessed the crime? A neurologist who can not endure the soreness lifestyles inflicts on its sufferers? A psychiatrist with a macabre humorousness and a to blame mystery? A mysterious psychological sufferer, locked in silent isolation?
Lieutenant Kinderman follows a bewildering path that hyperlinks these kinds of humans, confronting a brand new enigma at each flip whilst extra murders floor. Why does each one sufferer undergo a similar dreadful mutilations? Why are of the sufferers monks? Is there a connection among those crimes and one other sequence of murders that happened twelve years ago—and supposedly ended with the dying of the killer?
Legion is a singular of breathtaking strength and suspense. yet greater than this, it's a rare trip into the uncharted depths of the human brain and the main agonizing questions of the human condition.
The solutions are published in a climax so beautiful that it may possibly in basic terms were written by means of the writer of The Exorcist—William Peter Blatty.
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Additional info for Legion (Exorcist, Book 2)
Just don’t give up on us yet,” Emmie said, and Sadie did hug her then, held her tight and promised that she’d never give up on Em matter what, which wasn’t particularly reassuring, since it still left the possibility that she might give up on Deacon and leave them a And later, after Sadie had left the room and there were only the outside noises and Patty Duke and all the strange creaks and thum old house makes at night when it thinks no one is listening, Emmie told herself a story to make her sleepy again.
Saben White’s rusty old Chevy Impala is sitting directly in front of the park’s front gates—six vertical concrete columns painted hi shades of blue and red and yellow, neons faded now almost to pastels, and there’s a sagging cross span with giant red-and-white p letters and the gaps where other letters are missing to gaily spell out ROCK PO NT. When they pull up, Saben’s standing near the car, smoking a cigarette. For the last half mile, Odd Willie’s been singing what he swears is an old radio and TV jingle for the park—Come with your family with your friends.
She watches the busy platform and waits, but no one sits down b and when the train is moving again, she risks another peek and sees that the woman is still sitting right there, so maybe she intends the way down to Manhattan. Emmie hauls her backpack up into the empty seat and tries to concentrate on the world rushing by ou windows—beds of granite and slate carved to make way for the railroad; the twisted, arthritic fingers of bare limbs against the sky buildings boarded up and scarred with graffiti; abandoned warehouses and gas stations; a tiny, neglected graveyard sheltered by en evergreens.