Reprisal: A Novel of the Adversary Cycle

The bestselling supernatural thriller from horror author F. Paul Wilson, Reprisal is the fifth book in the Adversary Cycle "Who am I? Why, I'm you. Or parts of you. The best parts. I'm the touch of Richard Speck, Ed Gein, John Wayne Gacy, Ted Bundy, and Bin Laden in all of you. I am the thousand tiny angers and fleeting rages of your day—at the car that cuts you off on the freeway, at the kid who sneaks ahead of you in line at the movies, at the old fart with the full basket in the eight-items-only express checkout at the supermarket. I'm the nasty glee in the name-callers and the long-suffering pain, the self-loathing, the smoldering resentment, the suppressed rage, and the never-to-be-fulfilled promises of revenge in their targets. I'm the daily business betrayals and the corporate men's room character assassinations. I'm the husband who beats his wife, the mother who scalds her child, I'm the playground beatings of your little boys, the backseat rapes of your daughters. I'm your rage toward a child molester and I'm the pederast's lust for your child, for his own child. I'm the guards' contempt for their prisoners and the prisoners' hatred for their guards, I'm the shank, I'm the truncheon, I'm the shiv. I'm the bayonet in the throat of the political dissident, the meat hook on which he is hung, the cattle prod that caresses his genitals. You've kept me alive, you've made me strong. I am you."The immortal evil defeated in The Keep and reincarnated in Reborn has come of age and begun to settle scores. He targets a few unlucky individuals for destruction now, but soon the whole world will suffer. And he will feed on our tears and our pain.At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.

From Publishers Weekly

Whenever accused child murderer (and defrocked priest) Bill Ryan is near a telephone, it wails a continuous ring. As soon as somebody answers it, the caller, a long-dead boy, begs to be rescued from the psycho who killed him. A fugitive from the law, Ryan (using the alias Will Ryerson) is stalked by a primeval and malevolent force across America in this successfully formulaic installment of the horror series begun in The Keep. Detective Sergeant Renaldo Augustino is also hunting Ryan, and plans to torture Ryan before arresting him. Meanwhile, the evil entity is settling an old grudge with Ryan by killing his loved ones. However, the fugitive's fear is neither of apprehension nor death, but of the child whom he buried five years ago in an unmarked grave. A large cast of characters fleshes out the ranks in Wilson's stagy battle pitting good against evil. Copyright 1991 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Kirkus Reviews

First-class horror novel and third volume in a malignant- entity series begun with The Keep (1981) and Reborn (1990). The Keep (Nazis versus vampires) faded into clich‚ after the first half, but Reborn (a clone of Rosemary's Baby) held together for a brilliantly ghoulish climax. In Reborn, the son of clone Jim Hanley, at the moment of the son's conception, became the host of the evil entity living in Jim. Jim died but mother Carol now finds herself raising an incredibly intelligent freak, a baby who devours newspapers, books, and TV journalism as soon as he can sit up. At age five the boy takes over family finances and by age fifteen has run a nest egg up to $60 million. Then, with forged papers making him an adult, he goes off to do undergraduate work in psychology at Darnell University in North Carolina--although why a supermillionaire needs a degree in psychology is not clear. This fascinating story is, unfortunately, treated almost as a subplot while the novel's true subplot gets major space. But the secondary story has a fabulous payoff, in which a seven-year-old orphan--adopted by a financially upscale, physically hollow zombie who looks like Teddy Roosevelt--is crucified to the bedroom wall and remains alive (though completely drained of blood) and in fact is still alive when buried at night by a lapsed Catholic priest and dug up again five years later. Meanwhile, the entity, now known as Rafe Losmara, has seduced overweight math teacher Lisl Whitman into his orbit as a way of getting at the lapsed Catholic priest, whom Rafe sees as his (un)natural enemy, and the tie between Lisl and Rafe, as he leads her into moral decay (shoplifting without guilt), gives us the novel's richest pages, with the reader wondering if perhaps Rafe isn't onto something with his supraman swill.... The conventional climax is only a springboard for Rafe's big ploy in the next novel. Wilson's most gripping yet, with his strongest characterizations. -- Copyright ©1991, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

ONE   Queens, NY  Rain coming.Mr. Veilleur could feel the approaching summer storm in his bones as he sat in a shady corner of St. Ann’s cemetery in Bayside. He had the place to himself. In fact, he seemed to have most of the five boroughs to himself. Labor Day weekend. And a hot one. Anyone who could afford to had fled upstate or to the Long Island beaches. The rest were inside, slumped before their air conditioners. Even the homeless were off the streets, crouched in the relative cool of the subways.The sun poured liquid fire through the hazy midday sky. Not a cloud in sight. But here in the shade of this leaning oak, Mr. Veilleur knew the weather was going to change soon, could read it from the worsening ache in his knees, hips, and back.Other things were going to change as well. Everything, perhaps. And all for the worse.He had been making sporadic trips to this corner of the cemetery since he’d first sensed the wrongness here. That had been on a snowy winter night many years ago. It had taken him a while, but he’d finally located the spot.A grave, which was perfectly natural, this being a cemetery. This grave was not like the others, however. This one had no marker. But something else made this grave special: Nothing would grow over it.Through the years Mr. Veilleur had seen the cemetery’s gardeners try to seed it, sod it, even plant it with various ground covers like periwinkle, pachysandra, and ivy. They took root well all around, but nothing survived in the four-foot oblong patch over the grave.Of course, they didn’t know it was a grave. Only Mr. Veilleur and the one who had dug the hole knew that. And surely one other.Mr. Veilleur did not come here often. Travel was not easy for him, even to another part of the city he had called home since the end of World War Two. Gone were the days when he walked where he wished, fearing no one. Now his eyes were bad; his back was stiff and canted forward; he leaned on a cane when he walked, and he walked slowly. He had an old man’s body and he had to take appropriate precautions.Age had not dampened his curiosity, however. He didn’t know who had dug the grave, or who was in it. But whoever lay down there below the dirt and rocks had been touched by the enemy … the Otherness.The enemy had been growing steadily stronger for more than two decades now. But growing carefully, staying hidden. Good thing too, for he had no one to oppose him. But he did not know that. He was waiting. For what? A sign? A particular event? Perhaps the one buried below was part of the answer. Perhaps the occupant had nothing to do with the enemy’s quiescence.No matter—as long as the enemy remained inactive. For the longer the enemy delayed, the closer Mr. Veilleur would be to reaching the end of his days. And then he would be spared witnessing the chaotic horrors to come. His Heir would shoulder that burden.A shadow fell across him and a sudden gust of wind chilled the perspiration that coated his skin. He looked up. Clouds were moving in, obscuring the sun. Time to go.He stood and stared one last time at the bare dirt over the unmarked grave. He knew he would be back again. And again. Too many questions about this grave and its occupant. He sensed unfinished business here.Because the grave’s occupant did not rest easy. Did not, in fact, rest at all.Mr. Veilleur turned and made his unsteady way out of St. Ann’s cemetery. It would be good to get back to the cool apartment and get his feet up and have a glass of iced tea. He tried to believe that his wife had missed him during his absence, but with her mind the way it was, Magda probably hadn’t even realized he was gone. Copyright © 2005, 2011 by F. Paul Wilson

About the Author

F. Paul Wilson is the New York Times bestselling author of horror, adventure, medical thrillers, science fiction, and virtually everything in between. His books include the Repairman Jack novels, including Ground Zero, The Tomb, and Fatal Error; the Adversary cycle, including The Keep; and a young adult series featuring the teenage Jack. Wilson has won the Prometheus Award, the Bram Stoker Award, the Inkpot Award from the San Diego ComiCon, and the Lifetime Achievement Award of the Horror Writers of America, among other honors. He lives in Wall, New Jersey.

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