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Back Trollhunters Save as PDF
Chapters (51)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. Part I
  8. 1.
  9. 2.
  10. 3.
  11. 4.
  12. 5.
  13. 6.
  14. 7.
  15. 8.
  16. 9.
  17. 10.
  18. Part II
  19. 11.
  20. 12.
  21. 13.
  22. 14.
  23. 15.
  24. 16.
  25. 17.
  26. 18.
  27. Part III
  28. 19.
  29. 20.
  30. 21.
  31. 22.
  32. 23.
  33. 24.
  34. 25.
  35. 26.
  36. 27.
  37. 28.
  38. 29.
  39. 30.
  40. 31.
  41. 32.
  42. Part IV
  43. 33.
  44. 34.
  45. 35.
  46. 36.
  47. 37.
  48. 38.
  49. 39.
  50. 40.
  51. About the Author

Jack and Blinky were having better luck. I counted five dead Nullhullers, lying tattered on the floor like ripped rugs. The others waged active war, claws xylophoning across Jack’s pinwheeling swords. Even with his face concealed behind a mask, I recognized the thrilled expenditure of energy unique to thirteen-year-olds. For the briefest of moments I saw a glimpse of the kid Jack could’ve been, if only he’d been gifted a life of snagging fly balls on the diamond instead of hacking at unspeakable hell-spawn.

With the flat side of his blade, Jack knocked a Nullhuller across the floor. Instantly one of Blinky’s tentacles lashed out, squeezing the troll with enough force to tear right through the skin. Death was instant and bloodless. Six dead, four more to go.

Even without throats, the remaining Nullhullers could speak in a breathless wheeze, and with the medallion still around my neck I could understand them. These were not conversations. This was, instead, the ritualistic chant of a brainwashed cult, the same three chilling words repeated:

“Change the baby.”

“Change the baby.”

“Change the baby.”

The crib had been pushed away from the window so that it acted as a barrier to shield the Nullhuller duo hiding behind it. The crib itself was empty; these two trolls had the baby. I pressed myself flat against a wall and began skirting the room’s perimeter, booting aside candy-colored toys. So far I was going unnoticed. I reached the edge of the crib and leaned over to have a look.

One of the Nullhullers had wrapped its empty skin completely around the baby. A pale nectar secreting from the troll’s pores had covered the infant from head to foot. Before I could close my astonished mouth, the baby slid out of the ooze and landed supine and sleepy on the floor. But the nectar itself was stiffening, and I realized that the troll had essentially made a plaster cast of the baby. I leaned even farther over the revolting display and saw the baby-shaped space inside the hard nectar begin to weave with veins and nerves that started to grow organ clusters like hanging grapes. Already soft pink marrow was being fortified with white bone and covered with a pale elastic skin.

They were forging their own fake baby to leave behind.

The second of the Nullhullers reached out with its spindly arms, took the real baby by her feet, and began to lower her into its open mouth. There were no organs left inside, which meant the troll intended to use its empty torso as a bag in which to carry the baby home.