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All Chloe Saunders wants to do is fit in at school and maybe get a boy to notice her. But when a particularly violent ghost haunts her, she gets noticed for all the wrong reasons. Best-selling author Kelley Armstrong gives you a head start on an essential summer read WITH a taste of her first book in The Darkest Power Series.
CHAPTER ONE: TWELVE YEARS EARLIER...
MOMMY FORGOT TO WARN the new babysitter about the basement. Chloe teetered on the top step, chubby hands reaching up to clutch both railings, her arms shaking so much she could barely hang on. Her legs shook, too, the Scooby Doo heads on her slippers bobbing. Even her breath shook, puffing like she’d been running.
“Chloe?” Emily’s muffled voice drifted up from the dark basement. “Your mom said the Coke’s in the cold cellar, but I can’t find it. Can you come down and help me?”
Mommy said she’d told Emily about the basement.
Chloe was sure of it. She closed her eyes and thought hard. Before Mommy and Daddy left for the party, she’d been playing in the TV room. Mommy had called, and Chloe had run into the front hall where Mommy had scooped her up in a hug, laughing when Chloe’s doll poked her eye.
“I see you’re playing with Princess—I mean, Pirate Jasmine. Has she rescued poor Aladdin from the evil genie yet?” Chloe shook her head, then whispered, “Did you tell Emily about the basement?” “I most certainly did. No basements for Miss Chloe. That door stays closed.” When Daddy came around the corner, Mommy said, “We really need to talk about moving, Steve.” “Say the word and the sign goes up.” Daddy ruffled Chloe’s hair. “Be good for Emily, kiddo.” And then they were gone.
“Chloe, I know you can hear me,” Emily yelled.
Chloe peeled her fingers from the railing and stuck them in her ears.
“Chloe!”
“I c-can’t go in the basement,” Chloe called. “I-I’m not allowed.”
“Well, I’m in charge and I say you are. You’re a big girl.”
Chloe made her feet move down one step. The back of her throat hurt and everything looked fuzzy, like she was going to cry.
“Chloe Saunders, you have five seconds or I’ll drag you down here and lock the door.”
Chloe raced down the steps so fast her feet tangled and she tumbled into a heap on the landing. She lay there, ankle throbbing, tears burning her eyes as she peered into the basement, with its creaks and smells and shadows. And Mrs. Hobb.
There’d been others, before Mrs. Hobb scared them away. Like old Mrs. Miller, who’d play peek-a-boo with Chloe and call her Mary.
• • •
She leaned into the tiny room, trying to remember where Mommy kept the Coke. That was it on the shelf, wasn’t it? She darted over and stood on her tiptoes. Her fingers closed around a cool metal can.
“Chloe? Chloe!” It was Emily’s voice, but far away, shrill. Footsteps pounded across the floor overhead. “Chloe, where are you?”
Chloe dropped the can. It hit the concrete with a crack, then rolled against her foot, hissing and spitting, soda pooling around her slippers.
“Chloe, Chloe, where are you?” mimicked a voice behind her, like Emily’s, but not quite.
