In East Salem, the elite St. Adrian’s Academy is at the nexus of a satanic apocalypse—and the fatal tide is rising. When Hieronymus Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights is reunited with the pagans who commissioned it, a dark prophecy begins to unfold in East Salem, beginning with a savage double-murder by hellish creatures straight out of the painting itself. The lone survivor of the attack, a seventeen-year-old Brit, finds sanctuary at Tommy Gunderson’s home—and the place is soon surrounded by demons who seem to be biding their time . . . but for how long? Tommy’s pond has been contaminated with Provivilan—an insidious drug that could transform New York City’s children into an army of violence addicted murderers. But for an occult cabal in the upper echelons of Linz Pharmaceuticals, contaminating the water supply is just part of an ancient conspiracy against all of humankind. As the clouds gather, Tommy and Dani realize they must infiltrate Linz and St. Adrian’s to stop the dissemination of Provivilan. Even then, it could take a tangible eruption of the battle between angels and demons to save humanity from the supernatural evils that have been summoned to East Salem. New York Times bestselling author Lis Wiehl is the former legal analyst for Fox News and the O ’ Reilly Factor and has appeared regularly on Your World with Neil Cavuto , Lou Dobbs Tonight , and the Imus morning shows. The former cohost of WOR radio's WOR Tonight with Joe Concha and Lis Wiehl , she has served as legal analyst and reporter for NBC News and NPR's All Things Considered , as a federal prosecutor in the United States Attorney's office, and as a tenured professor of law at the University of Washington. She appears frequently on CNN as a legal analyst. FATAL TIDE THE EAST SALEM TRILOGY BOOK THREE By LIS WIEHL, PETE NELSON Thomas Nelson Copyright © 2013 Lis Wiehl All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-59554-946-4 CHAPTER 1 December 20 8:45 p.m. EST "Where are we going?" the boy asked. A feeling, a premonition perhaps,told him something wasn't right, but he didn't know what it was. He wonderedif he was being kidnapped. "Airport," the driver, George Gardener, said. The boy realized he'd made a mistake, telling them he'd rememberedto grab his passport. He should have pretended he'd lost it. Then theycouldn't fly him out of the country. "Don't you think we'd be safer at Mr. Gunderson's house?" Tommy Gunderson lived in a large stone house on twenty-two acressurrounded by a stone wall topped by a deer fence. He had security cameras,including hi-def, night vision, and infrared, triggered by motiondetectors, and he had a small arsenal of weapons. The boy had shown upat Tommy's gate with a Bible in his hand, betting they'd let him in. He'dcome to get information. "I'm afraid that's the first place the people who are trying to kill youwill look," the man in the backseat said. His name was Julian Villanegre,and he was even older than the driver, probably over eighty, the boyguessed. He was an art historian and, like the boy, he was British. "You'llbe safer if we can get you to a place where they won't think to look. And sofar, we don't think they know you're with us." "That makes sense," the boy said. He had to think of a way to get themto turn the car around. They were still in East Salem, New York, fifty milesnorth of Manhattan and their destination, the international terminal atJFK, where the men hoped to catch a late-night flight to London. The car wound through a snowy winter landscape along a narrow two-laneroller coaster of a road. He'd asked to sit in the front seat, where theywouldn't be able to use the child locks to keep him in the car. He wonderedwhat would happen if he jumped out while it was still moving. He lookedat the speedometer. Thirty-two miles an hour. He guessed he'd probablysurvive. Once they got on the freeway it would be too late. He kept his handon the door handle. "Are you sure your house is safer?" "One of the advantages of living in a castle," Villanegre said, smilingfrom the backseat. "It costs a small fortune to heat, but when withstandinga siege is desired, it suits one to a tittle. My ancestors survived three. Ithink it will do." "They said you'd fill me in on the way," the boy said. His name wasReese Stratton-Mallins. He was seventeen. "It's a very long story, I'm afraid," Villanegre said. "One of the oldest too." "And St. Adrian's Academy is part of it?" "Very much at the center of it, it seems," the old man told him. "Thepeople who run your school are very bad people who will stop at nothing.You're quite correct to be wary of them. Some of them aren't even people." George looked over his shoulder at Villanegre, as if to say, I hope youknow what you're doing. "What does that mean?" Reese asked. "Do you know what demons are?" Villanegre replied. "Demons?" the boy said. He was feigning innocence, but he'd learneda long time ago that he had the kind of face, a look others found sweet andunaf