By Stephen King
Evil is alive in Libertyville. It inhabits a custom-painted purple and white 1958 Plymouth Fury and the teenage boy, Arnold Cunningham, who buys it from the unusual Roland LeBay.
Helped by means of Arnold's female friend Leigh Cabot, Dennis Guilder embarks to determine the genuine fact in the back of Christine and unearths greater than he bargained for: from homicide, to suicide, and an odd feeling that surrounds Christine -- she will get inspite of someone that crosses her! Can Dennis shop Arnold from the evil that's Christine?
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Extra info for Christine
And then he would burn just as surely as if he were at the center of the sun. He smiled as he got to his feet, and if he could have spared the energy, he might have laughed. Octavian, his bastard son, had been right all along. He glanced toward his front yard just as three men, led by the one with the ax, rounded the corner and began to approach him. Though they were not dressed in their ritual garb, he knew them on sight, the way the mouse knows the cat, regardless of its breed. Vatican men. They were clergy!
He went to the opposite wall and tested the apartment's two windows. They were locked, but now he closed and bolted the solid wooden shutters he himself had installed on the inside. These fit perfectly into the window frames and had the same lining as the door. The apartment was sealed. The hunger had been creeping up on him all night, as it did most nights, and now it sang to him from his belly a wild song, an animal song. As he had become engrossed in the book the hunger and its song had receded.
It was Karl who named him Octavian, the eighth. Gradually something began to change between them. Peter was learning and growing, and though born to the life of a warrior, he had grown tired of it. He abandoned the coven in Boston on the eve of the twentieth century and struck out on his own to learn as much as he could about their kind. He did learn, and changed. He tried to convince Karl that he and the others were destroying themselves, that they were both far less and 48 49 OF SAINTS AND SHADOWS far more human than they cared to believe...