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Chapters (79)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-One
  25. Twenty-Two
  26. Twenty-Three
  27. Twenty-Four
  28. Twenty-Five
  29. Twenty-Six
  30. Twenty-Seven
  31. Twenty-Eight
  32. Twenty-Nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-One
  35. Thirty-Two
  36. Thirty-Three
  37. Thirty-Four
  38. Thirty-Five
  39. Thirty-Six
  40. Thirty-Seven
  41. Thirty-Eight
  42. Thirty-Nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty-One
  45. Forty-Two
  46. Forty-Three
  47. Forty-Four
  48. Forty-Five
  49. Forty-Six
  50. Forty-Seven
  51. Forty-Eight
  52. Forty-Nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty-One
  55. Fifty-Two
  56. Fifty-Three
  57. Fifty-Four
  58. Fifty-Five
  59. Fifty-Six
  60. Fifty-Seven
  61. Fifty-Eight
  62. Fifty-Nine
  63. Sixty
  64. Sixty-One
  65. Sixty-Two
  66. Sixty-Three
  67. Sixty-Four
  68. Sixty-Five
  69. Sixty-Six
  70. Sixty-Seven
  71. Sixty-Eight
  72. Sixty-Nine
  73. Seventy
  74. Acknowledgments
  75. About the Author
  76. Praise for Destroy All Monsters
  77. Books by Sam J. Miller
  78. Back Ad
  79. About the Publisher

A bird made of fire flapped its wings in the air in front of us. Quang and I clapped, but Radha leaped up from her seat and grabbed Connor by the arm.

“Stop. Stop it right now. You must never, never do that again,” she hissed.

She yelled at Connor from time to time. You had to, with a kid so energetic and loud.

But she wasn’t yelling now. Her voice was dead calm. And that made the blood in my veins turn to freezing-cold river water.

The bird blew away in a wisp of black smoke. Connor began to cry.

“I need you to understand. Do you understand?” she whispered. She had to say it a couple more times, before he nodded.

Connor sat down, crying hard now. I rubbed his shoulder, and he got up and sat on my lap. Buried his head in my chest.

“Shhhh,” I said. “It’s okay.”

He sniffled, and nodded again. I felt glad that he still believed me.

Radha turned her head away so he wouldn’t see her tears. We sat there in silence and waited for our noodles. I wished there was something I could say.

Here’s what I think: my magic has something to do with emotion. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but sometimes, when I feel a strong emotion, I get the kind of tingly sensation that some othersiders describe when their powers are starting to trigger.

I felt that tingle then. It made me wonder if maybe I could help Radha and Connor. Make them less afraid, less sad.

I shut my eyes, tried to access it. Focused on my spine, the way the Palace trainers had taught us—felt energy running along it, coursing through my body. Breathed deep. Felt the tingling get stronger. Tried to think happy, positive, peaceful thoughts.

But something was wrong. I tried to move my arms, and couldn’t. I opened my mouth to ask for help, but no words emerged. Just like always, before a freak-out.

“Solomon?” Radha said, but her voice sounded very, very far away.

Eleven

Ash

What makes a photograph great?

Taking pictures is easy. I take dozens, every day. With my camera, with my phone. I post them to Instagram. Facebook. People like them. But I still don’t know what I’m doing.

Every night I’m on the internet, or flipping through books, stalking the images of famous artists and social media nobodies, trying to figure it out. Which photographs move me, and why? Face after face slides past me, each one full of unreadable emotion. Whole lives I will never know anything about.

Look up Richard Avedon’s photo of Marilyn Monroe. Look at her face. See how much pain is there, how lost she is. Compare that to the tens of thousands of other photographs that were taken of her, the smiling happy sex symbol, and you know that Avedon caught something special. Something haunting.