The Nine Lives of Chloe King - Liz Braswell

Thảo luận trong 'Sách tiếng nước ngoài' bắt đầu bởi 1953snake, 21/12/14.

  1. 1953snake

    1953snake Sinh viên năm I


    This is one of the fantasy book series by Liz Braswell follows Chloe King, a girl who discovers that she is a descendant of an ancient race of Bastet offspring called the Mai, as she attempts to learn more about her cat-like powers with her friends and protectors, while also assuming the role of the "Uniter", a warrior that can stop the war between Mai and humans. Chloe is also bestowed with nine lives and must stay alive while dealing with her love life and the mysteries behind her missing father.

    The novel had been turned into an American fantasy drama television series which premiered on ABC Family from June 14, 2011 to August 16, 2011.


    He never tired or lost her trail. Not since she’d first seen him an hour ago in the bar, when his sleeve had fallen back and revealed an ornate black brand. Scrolls and curlicues of ink and scar tissue spelled out the familiar words: Sodalitas Gladii Decimi.
    And so she ran.
    She took a deep breath and looked ahead, leaping over piles of garbage and puddles with the precision of an acrobat, propelled by her terror. Which street did this alley connect to? Was there a public place close by—even a twenty-four-hour gas station—where she would be safe?
    Finally the smell of open, wet air told her an exit was ahead: a barbedwire-topped gate blocked the far end of the alley. She prepared to leap, triumph and freedom singing in her ears.
    Then something burned into her left leg, ripping through muscle.
    She clung to the gate, her leg dangling uselessly below her. She reached to pull herself up, hand over hand, but a near-silent whir announced a second attack. In an instant, she fell.
    “Trapped, I’m afraid,” said an irritatingly calm voice.
    She desperately tried to push herself along the ground, away from him—but there was nowhere to go. “Please … no …,” she whimpered, pushing herself back up against a wall. “I’m not what you think. I’m not bad. …” “I’m sure you don’t believe you are.”
    She heard a blade, fine and small like a dagger, being whisked out of its sheath. “I’ve never—I would never hurt anyone! Please!” He cut her throat.
    Id tibi facio, Deus,” he whispered, putting the side of his left hand to his heart, thumb in the middle of his chest, pointing up. A gentle sigh escaped the dying girl; a thin ribbon of blood trickled down her neck. Tiny marks of an expert assassin. He bowed his head. “In allegiance to the Order of the Tenth Blade. Pater noster, rex gentius.
    He adjusted her head so that she looked more comfortable and closed her eyes. Then he wiped the tiny silver blade on a handkerchief, sat back on his heels, and waited.
    When she woke up, he would kill her again.


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