The tension thickens as the Leviathan steams toward New York City with a homicidal lunatic on board: secrets suddenly unravel, characters reappear, and nothing is at it seems in this thunderous conclusion to Scott Westerfeld’s brilliant trilogy.
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“Siberia,” Alek said. The word slipped cold and hard from his tongue, as forbidding as the landscape passing below.
“We won’t be over Siberia till tomorrow.” Dylan sat at the table, still attacking his breakfast. “And it’ll take almost a week to cross it. Russia is barking big.”
“And cold,” Newkirk added. He stood next to Alek at the window of the middies’ mess, both hands wrapped around a cup of tea.
“Cold,” repeated Bovril. The creature clutched Alek’s shoulder a little tighter, and a shiver went through its body.
In early October...see more
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