Neil Gaiman, Michael Reaves
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An astounding tale of adventure, danger, magic, science, friendship, spaceships, and, oh yeah, the battle to save all the people in all the worlds in all possible dimensions.
Joey Harker isn't a hero.
In fact, he's the kind of guy who gets lost in his own house.
But one day, Joey gets really lost. He walks straight out of his world and into another dimension.
Joey's walk between worlds makes him prey to armies of magic and science, both determined to harness Joey's power to travel between the dimensions. The only thing standing in their way is Joey—or, more precisely, an army of Joeys, all from different dimensions and all determined to save the worlds.
Now Joey must make a choice: return to the life he knows or join the battle to the end.
hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Jay hauled me over onto my back, made sure that my windpipe wasn’t obstructed, then sat cross-legged beside me and waited. After a couple of minutes my lungs remembered their job and got back to it, albeit grumpily. Jay waited until I was breathing normally again, then handed me a small flask. I don’t know where he kept it—that formfitting mirror suit he wore looked like it didn’t leave room for a book of matches. I looked at the flask rather
beacon—had triggered the spell’s dissolution and signaled HEX that we were safely in the net. No wonder everything had been so easy! Hue hovered anxiously over me and my companions as the armed guards stepped apart to make way for two people I hoped I’d never see again—Scarabus, the original Illustrated Man, and Neville, that walking, talking, glutinous, life-sized version of the Visible Man model kit I’d gotten once for Christmas. They came down the stairs and stopped, each flanking the
Sandman series of graphic novels. Among his many awards are the World Fantasy Award, the Hugo Award, the Nebula Award, and the Bram Stoker Award. Originally from England, Gaiman now lives in the United States. Visit him online at www.mousecircus.com. MICHAEL REAVES is an Emmy Award–winning television writer and screenwriter whose many credits include Star Trek: The Next Generation, Twilight Zone, Batman: The Animated Series, and Gargoyles. His novels include the New York Times bestseller
hand—then he saw it was me. He stopped, hand in the air, and said, plain as day, “Mother of God, it’s a judgment on me,” and started to cry. Then he ran out of the room. He ran like I had run earlier. It’s called running for your life, I thought. I looked at Mr. Dimas. He looked back, then hooked one foot around a nearby chair leg and dragged the chair toward me. “Sit,” he told me. “Put your head down. Breathe slow.” I did. Good thing, too, because the world—or at least his office—had gone
opened it. “Here we are, my fine shrimp,” he said. “The Lady Indigo’s quarters for the voyage back to HEX. You stand here and wait for her. If you need to relieve yourself, there’s a lavatory back there, through that door. Use it; don’t befoul yourself. She’ll be down when she’s ready. Got to chart our course back now, she does, with the captain.” He was talking to me like you’d talk to a pet or a farm animal, just to hear the sound of his own voice. He went out. There was a lurching, then,