By Jacqueline West
In Olive's 3rd experience within the New York Times bestselling Books of in different places sequence, what lurks lower than the home should be as harmful as what is hidden inside of. . .
Some terrifying issues have occurred to Olive within the previous stone condo, yet none as frightening as beginning junior excessive. Or so she thinks. whilst she plummets via a gap in her yard, even though, Olive realizes issues which may swap her brain: First, the depraved Annabelle McMartin is again. moment, there is a mystery below-ground that unlocks now not one yet of Elsewhere's largest, strongest, most threatening forces but. yet with the house's magical cats performing suspicious, her ally threatening to maneuver away, and her best friend Morton beginning to insurgent, Olive isn't really definite the place to show. Will she determine the secret out in time? Or will she be lured into in different places . . . and trapped there for good?
A must-read delusion sequence for enthusiasts of Pseudonymous Bosch, Coraline, and Septimus Heap.
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Additional info for The Second Spy: The Books of Elsewhere: Volume 3
The opposite thump didn't accelerate. after which Olive discovered what the thumping was once. somebody used to be hiking up the steps. “Rutherford? ” Olive referred to as, in a whisper. however the steps have been sluggish, not like Rutherford’s. Thump. “Horatio? Leopold? ” yet those steps got here one after the other, in contrast to the cats’. “Hello? ” Olive whispered. there has been no solution. Thump. The step used to be very smooth. and intensely shut. Biting her cheek to maintain from screaming, Olive rocked onto one part. Her arms and legs roared with soreness as she rolled around the mattress and slipped over its part. She hit the ground with a gentle smack. accumulating the final little bit of energy in her limbs, Olive wormed her manner beneath the mattress and iced over, slightly respiring, together with her eyes peeping out underneath the airborne dirt and dust ruffle, gazing the open door. A smooth creak got here from the corridor. A shadow glided alongside the ground, simply contained in the open doorway. A determine stepped into that shadow. Olive’s eyes traveled up from the hem of the lengthy, prim skirt, to the starched blouse cuffs, to the string of pearls, to the beautiful, changeless, terrifying face. Annabelle’s eyes flickered round the room. They took in Olive’s vainness, with its rows of dad bottles, Olive’s cluttered cloth cabinet, the twisted blankets on Olive’s mattress. Olive held her breath. another fear and plan and concept fled from her mind. All she knew used to be that she was once enjoying out her personal worst fears backward—Annabelle was once the only status in her bed room, and she or he used to be the only hiding lower than the mattress. Annabelle’s eyes skimmed the room back, resting for one lengthy, lousy moment at the rumpled mattress. Then Annabelle stepped out of the entrance and glided off alongside the corridor. Olive lay below the mattress, mind clicking, middle thundering. What should still she do? the place used to be Annabelle going, and what used to be she after? should still Olive confront her on her personal? And with what? should still she scream for aid, waking her mom and dad, placing them at risk too, and bringing this complete teetering tower of fragile secrets and techniques crashing down? there have been not more sounds from the hallway. Olive squirmed ahead on her prickling arms and hauled herself out from lower than the mattress. She crawled to the entrance. Moonlight painted the corridor in colours of grey, leaving deep shadows at both finish. Annabelle had vanished into the darkness. nonetheless crawling, respiring via her the teeth, Olive dragged herself down the hallway to the lavatory. She groped alongside the counter for the field of fits. at the least she’d have one weapon opposed to Annabelle…however susceptible it used to be. Olive climbed like a wobbly monkey up the handles of the rest room drawers till she was once status on either toes. Her legs nonetheless felt like they have been asleep, yet at the least the ache had lessened. Olive staggered out of the rest room and down the darkish corridor to the lavender room. The door’s black mouth hung open, the old furnishings and Annabelle’s empty portrait body glittering like enamel inside of. The room was once empty. Olive edged down the corridor, checking every one room for Annabelle, simply as she’d performed each day for weeks. It have been scary even in the midst of the afternoon, with sunlight streaming during the home windows.