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REVENGE OF SEVEN PITTACUS LORE PDF

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The fifth book of the #1 New York Times bestselling I Am Number Four series! The Garde have suffered an unbearable loss. Number Five has betrayed them. [PDF] The Revenge of Seven (Lorien Legacies, #5) DOWNLOAD NOW: http:// pixia-club.info?book=B00H1UC4T2 [PDF] The Revenge of. The Revenge of Seven is the heartstopping fifth installment in the Lorien Legacies series by Pittacus Lore. The worst was supposed to be over. We were.


Revenge Of Seven Pittacus Lore Pdf

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REVENGE OF SEVEN By Pittacus Lore The worst was supposed to be over. We were reunited after a decade apart. We were discovering the. Read "The Revenge of Seven" by Pittacus Lore available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first purchase. The fifth book of the #1 New York . The Revenge of Seven by Pittacus Lore, , available at Book Depository with free delivery worldwide.

We were even happy. We never imagined the Mogadorians could turn one of our own against us. We were fools for trusting Five. And now Eight is lost forever.

Instead, I will do whatever it takes to destroy every last one of them. But that stops now. We have a new ally who knows their weaknesses.

And I finally have the power to fight back. They caught Number One in Malaysia. Number Two in England. Number Three in Kenya.

And Number Eight in Florida. They killed them all.

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I am Number Seven. I will make them pay. SlideShare Explore Search You. Submit Search. Successfully reported this slideshow. We use your LinkedIn profile and activity data to personalize ads and to show you more relevant ads. You can change your ad preferences anytime. Upcoming SlideShare. Like this document? Why not share! Embed Size px. Start on. Show related SlideShares at end. WordPress Shortcode.

Published in: Full Name Comment goes here. Are you sure you want to Yes No. Michele Gallegos Want to preview some of our plans? Georgia Price Want to preview some of our plans? Terence Hardy. Show More. No Downloads. Views Total views. Actions Shares. Embeds 0 No embeds. No notes for slide. The Lost Files 1: The Lost Files 2: The Lost Files 3: The Lost Files 4: The Lost Files 5: The Lost Files 6: The Lost Files 7: The Lost Files 8: The Lost Files 9: The Lost Files: Hidden Enemy Contains novellas 7—9 The events in this book are real.

Names and places have been changed to protect the Loric, who remain in hiding. Other civilizations do exist. Some of them seek to destroy you. The sheet draped over me is more slippery than soft, almost like a piece of plastic, and it is radiating heat.

Not just heat, I realize, but also a steady vibration that soothes my sore muscles. How long have I been asleep, and where the heck am I? I try to remember what happened to me, but all I can think of is my last vision. It felt like I was in that nightmare for days. I can still smell the burned-rubber stench of Washington, D. Smog clouds lingered over the city, a reminder of the battle fought there.

Or the battle that will be fought there, if my vision actually comes true. The visions. Are they part of a new Legacy? None of the others have Legacies that leave them traumatized in the morning. Are they prophecies? Are they warnings?

He was trapped in the vision, too, just like I was. I have to warn the others. I sit bolt upright and my head swims — too fast, too soon — rust-colored blobs floating through my vision. I blink them away, my eyes feeling gummy, my mouth dry and throat sore. They come on gradually, the room eventually bathed in a pale red glow. I look around for the source of the light and discover it pulsing from veins interwoven through the chrome-paneled walls. A chill goes through me at how precise the room looks, how severe, lacking any decoration at all.

The heat from the blanket increases, almost as if it wants me to curl back up beneath it. I shove it away. This is a Mogadorian place. I shudder, thinking about them putting me into this gown and leaving me here to rest. He called me his heir. What does that even mean? The simple fact is: I know this. Now what am I going to do about it? I figure the Mogs must have moved me to one of their bases.

Because, one day, he wants me ruling next to him. Oh no. My hands start to shake and tears sting my eyes. I have to get out of here. And I have to do it alone. I push down the fear. I push down the lingering visions of a decimated Washington. I push down the worries about my friends.

I push it all down.

I need to be a blank slate, like I was when we first 6. If I act on instinct, I can do this. Run, I imagine Crayton saying.

I need something to fight them with. I look around the room for anything I can use as a weapon. Next to the bed is a metallic nightstand, the only other furniture in the room. The ink on the cover looks singed, the words indented and rough around the edges, as if it were printed with acid for ink.

Under it are a series of angular boxes and hash marks that I assume is Mogadorian. I pick up the book and open it. Each page is divided in half, English on one side and Mogadorian on the other. I slam the book closed.

I climb down from the bed and walk over to what I think is the door. Middle- aged, with wrinkles forming in the pale skin around her eyes, the Mog looks surprisingly unthreatening in a high-necked, floor-length dress, like something one of the Sisters would wear back 7. Her head is shaved except for two long, black braids at the back of her skull, the rest of her scalp covered by an elaborate tattoo. I stop short in front of her, not sure what to do.

The Mog glances at the book in my hands and smiles. Standing before me, she dips into an elaborate bow.

This one lets out a short grunt and then hits the floor with a fluttering of fabric from her fancy dress. I run, choosing a direction at random and hurtling down the hallway as fast as I can. The metal floor stings my bare feet and my muscles begin to ache, but I ignore all that.

The Revenge of Seven

Too bad these secret Mogadorian bases never have any exit signs. I turn one corner and then another, sprinting through hallways that are pretty much identical.

I dart around them, even though neither of them makes any attempt to grab me. In fact, I think I hear one of them laughing. What is going on here? I can feel the two Mog soldiers watching me run, so I duck down the first hallway that I can. I slow down to catch my breath, cautiously inching down this latest sterile hallway.

I switch hands and press on. Not blinking lights. As I walk under the archway, the metal-plated ceiling gives way to a glass bubble, the room wide- open, almost like a planetarium. Except real. There are various consoles and computers protruding from the floor — maybe this is some kind of control room — but I ignore them, drawn instead to the dizzying view through the expansive window.

I get right up to the glass, pressing my hands against it.

I can feel the emptiness outside, the endless, ice-cold, airless space between me and that floating blue orb in the distance. I spin around and press my back to the glass, feeling like the void behind me might be preferable to facing him.

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Three Loric pendants, the ones he took 9. Just as I once showed Pittacus Lore. I reach out and press my hand against the glass for support, knees suddenly weak. Outside, in orbit around the Earth, is the Mogadorian fleet. Hundreds of ships — most of them long and silver, about the size of small airplanes, just like the ones the Garde have described fighting before. But among them are at least twenty enormous warships that dwarf the rest — looming and Gently, he drapes his hand on my shoulder.

I can feel the coldness of his pale fingers through my gown. We will celebrate Mogadorian Progress together, granddaughter. Behind me, Sarah stomps her foot. I turn around just in time to see her frowning at the remains of a cockroach on the bottom of her sneaker. We slept in this old factory last night, our sleeping bags laid on the sunken floorboards. I leave the window and walk over to her. Not if what you saw in that vision is true.

The only thing I know for sure is that I have a fresh scar on my leg, the fourth of its kind. I feel in my gut that Five is still alive. Six, Marina, Eight, Nine — one of them is gone. Sarah wraps her hand around mine, massaging it, trying to ease some of the tension. Like this is the beginning of the end. And he survived. You have to believe, John.

When you were comatose back in Chicago, we never gave up on you. We kept fighting and it paid off. Malcolm was mortally wounded and Sarah badly hurt, Sam nearly out of ammo and Bernie Kosar unaccounted for. So return the favor and save our planet. I pull Sarah close and kiss her.

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The crowded van ride gave us plenty of time to brainstorm names for our new allies. Not enough cash for something big. Anyway, it should be enough juice. Even now, with him and Malcolm setting up our newly purchased electronics on the factory floor below, I feel a vague sense of unease at having one of them so close.

I push it down. It was slow going, but I was able to use my healing Legacy to fix them up. There was something inside of them, something Mogadorian, that actually felt like it was pushing back against my powers. Ultimately, though, whatever the Mogs did was washed away by my Legacy. I had found him on the roof of the John Hancock Center, shredded by Mogadorian blaster fire and barely clinging to life. I used my healing on him, praying that it would work. At one end of the room, against a wall covered with competing graffiti tags, are a trio of industrial- size laundry bins overflowing with piles of khaki pants.

When BK sees us enter, his tail thumps fresh dust clouds from the pile of old clothes. At the center of the factory floor, steelwork benches are bolted into the floor. I watch Adam That it happened for a reason. He keeps his eyes fixed on the screen, typing quickly. Even with his beard starting to get majorly unkempt, Malcolm looks healthier than he did when I first met him.

Malcolm pushes his glasses up his nose and clears his throat. She scoots in next to Malcolm and starts working on the third laptop, giving me a look like I should try saying something nice to Adam. There have been a lot of those since we left Chicago. Before it can get too weird, the tablet boots up. Sam peers over my shoulder. Three of the dots are bunched together, basically overlapping into one glowing blob, while a fourth is a short distance away.

Immediately, scenarios for that isolated dot begin cycling through my head. Was one of our friends captured? Did they have to separate after they were attacked? Is that Five apart from the others? This one hovers over the Pacific, its glow a little dimmer than the rest. A second later, before I can even process my panic, Ella blinks back to life, now hovering over Australia. For the next few seconds, it flickers in and out, bouncing across the map.

I smack the side of the tablet with my palm out of frustration. I had told them all about that nightmare scene in D. Not yet, anyway. I turn to stare at him. This is why my people always catch up to you. I know I should hear him out, but this whole situation has me feeling cornered.

They are useful only as bait. On the other hand, if they are free, what good will I shake my head, still feeling like I want to throttle Adam. They have no way of finding us. It looks like a totally generic, wealthy community. When I look a little closer, I notice a paranoid number of security cameras mounted on the imposingly tall stone wall that encircles the entire property.

Adam shakes his head. And anyway, the real power, the trueborn Mogadorians, the leaders — they reside in Ashwood. Trueborn are the pure bloodlines. Mogadorians born of Mogadorian parents. His trueborn status is no great point of pride.

They are used to being the hunters, not the hunted. What difference does that make? The vatborn are not particularly good at directing themselves. Even I am not entirely sure what we might find down there. Sam looks from Adam to his father. And where Adam rescued me. And now, here I am, making battle plans alongside one. He reaches down to absently scratch behind its ears. The stories listed under Most Popular, all of the links in a neon green that I guess is supposed to look alien, include: The website is called They Walk Among Us.

Below that is a grainy cell-phone I quickly skim the article. The level of detail is astounding. Sarah looks up at me with an odd smile, bewilderment mixing with something like pride.

Whose old quarterback happens to be one of the only other people outside our group to know what went down at the high school. The whereabouts of the Garde remain unknown.

Sam clicks through to a story where Mark accuses the secretary of defense, a man named Bud Sanderson, of using his political clout to pave the way for a Mogadorian invasion. The story is tied to an image of Sanderson from five years ago juxtaposed with one of him from a few months ago. In the first, Sanderson looks like a haggard man in his late seventies — his face is age-spotted and he has a double chin and a steep paunch.

Sam shakes his head, not buying it. I mean, Sarah, you went out with him. Did he even know how to read? This is like WikiLeaks over here.

I look over at Adam. He turns back to Sarah. It was something I … excelled at during my training. I could write an encryption code, reroute our IP address through servers in different cities. I think back to the elaborate computer system Henri always had set up and the even more complicated grid that Sandor built in Chicago.

Then, I imagine a hundred Mogadorians, just like Adam, hunched over keyboards, stalking us. The list of boldfaced unread mail consists entirely of messages from Mark James.

I refuse to believe that but … I need to hear from you. I thought I had a lead on you in New Mexico. All I found there was a deserted military base. It looked like a major battle went down.

Way bigger and nastier than what happened in Paradise. I hope you guys got out safe. That would suck. A friend of mine set up a safe house for me. Way off the grid.

A place where we can work on exposing those pale freaks to the world. Something international. I need your help. Without her even saying anything, I already know that Sarah wants to find Mark James.

The dashboard clock reads 7: She got off a quick note to Mark, who replied almost immediately with an address for a restaurant in Huntsville. That gives me confidence that Sarah will be safe. After that brief communication, Adam immediately wiped both email accounts from the internet.

Now, here we are. We fit right in, just two teenagers sitting in a crappy car, in the middle of saying good-bye. With my other hand, I run my fingers through her hair, eventually letting them rest gently on the back of her neck.

I pull her in a little closer.

The Garde may be broken and divided once more, but they will not be defeated. As long as one still stands, the battle for Earth's survival is not lost. Michael Bay, director of Transformers , raved: The battle for Earth's survival wages on. Read the rest of the series: The Fate of Ten , and 7: United as One. Don't miss the first book in the brand-new I Am Number Four spin-off series: Generation One. Young Adult Fantasy.

Turtleback Availability: HarperCollins Availability: The Revenge of Seven: Michael Joseph Availability: Penguin Availability: Amazon UK. Lorien Legacies Book 5: The Lorien Legacies, Book 5 Author s:We fit right in, just two teenagers sitting in a crappy car, in the middle of saying good-bye.

A chill goes through me at how precise the room looks, how severe, lacking any decoration at all. Now what am I going to do about it? In Chicago, John makes the unlikeliest of allies: a Mogadorian named Adam, who has switched sides. The 5th Wave. Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, Book 3: The Mogs would definitely be watching that. I bottle that rage up, saving it for the next time I see a Mogadorian. No big deal. Not yet, anyway.

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