He regularly moves from small town to small town. He changes his name and identity. He does not put down roots. He cannot tell anyone who or what he really is. If he stops moving those who hunt him will find and kill him.
But you can't run forever.
So when he stops in Paradise, Ohio, John decides to try and settle down. To fit in. And for the first time he makes some real friends. People he cares about - and who care about him. Never in John's short life has there been space for friendship, or even love.
But it's just a matter of time before John's secret is revealed.
He was once one of nine. Three of them have been killed.
John is Number Four. He knows that he is next . . .
I am trying to be fair and come up with one single redeeming feature of this book. I can't.
It reads (ironically enough) like the hastily banged out attempt to capitalize on the Twilight/Harry Potter/flavor of the month marketing tsunami that it turns out to be.
Put an infinite number of desperate would-be authors in a room with an infinite number of keyboards and let them take dictation from a team of marketing analysts and you'll get a remarkably close approximation.
I want to claw my own eyes out. It's that bad. The characterization is flat and unbelievable. The plotting is heinous and the prose is eye-gougingly bad.
