By Jacqueline West
In Olive's 3rd event within the New York Times bestselling Books of in other places sequence, what lurks lower than the home may be as risky as what is hidden within. . .
Some terrifying issues have occurred to Olive within the outdated stone condo, yet none as frightening as beginning junior excessive. Or so she thinks. while she plummets via a gap in her yard, even though, Olive realizes issues which may switch 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 greatest, strongest, most deadly forces but. yet with the house's magical cats appearing suspicious, her ally threatening to maneuver away, and her best friend Morton beginning to insurgent, Olive is not definite the place to show. Will she determine the secret out in time? Or will she be lured into in other places . . . and trapped there for good?
A must-read myth sequence for fanatics of Pseudonymous Bosch, Coraline, and Septimus Heap.
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Additional resources for The Second Spy: The Books of Elsewhere: Volume 3
We won't speak about this the following. ” “Why no longer? ” Olive demanded. “Not the following! ” Horatio growled, already darting away. The sky appeared to darken from white to grey because the clouds thickened. The beams of sun that touched the church have been bring to a halt, one after one other, like a cluster of candles being blown out. “I’m sorry, Horatio,” Olive known as, following the cat as he raced down the hill. She ran speedier and speedier, attempting to sustain, yet Horatio streaked sooner than her. “I realize it was once stupid,” she panted, “but I simply desired to aid Morton. i assumed I could—” Olive tripped over a jutting stone. She landed tough on her arms, scraping her dermis opposed to the uncovered rock. Thorny stems of the flowering crops snagged at her wounds. Blood, even brighter than the blood-red paint ready in her bed room, seeped via her torn epidermis. Olive seemed up. the place Horatio’s tender orange fur had glowed throughout the bracken a second earlier than, now there has been nothing—only a cluster of grey twigs twitching within the wind. Shaking her stinging arms, Olive staggered to her ft back and surveyed the hill. There—far lower than her, off to her right—she stuck the sleek of a luxuriant orange tail. “Horatio, please! ” she shouted, working towards the flash of orange fur. “Don’t be mad at me! ” there has been no solution. by the point she reached the spot the place she’d visible the flash of orange, Horatio used to be long gone. the comb grew thick and wild throughout. prior to her lay the woodland, canopied in brown and gold. She glanced over her shoulder, yet she used to be now not convinced which method led again to the image body. The hillsides folded into one another, one exact ridge following one other, and the little stone church had vanished from sight. “Horatio! ” Olive yelled as an icy panic rippled via her. “I misplaced tune of the body! ” Her palms throbbed. The bleeding hadn’t stopped. a bit river of blood was once trickling alongside her lifeline. “Horatio! ” From the woods sooner than her there got here a smooth crackling sound. Olive iced over, listening. among the trunks of timber, she concept she glimpsed one other flash of orange. prior to it might vanish back, Olive bolted after it, into the wooded area. A carpet of brown and gold leaves crunched lower than her sneakers as Olive moved quickly alongside, scanning the grey tree trunks. There it used to be again—a trace of orange fur transferring throughout the shadows. Olive chased it into the rustling bushes. The sky growing to be darker nonetheless, and the smell within the air had replaced one way or the other. the flamboyant scent of the hillsides were changed by way of whatever sharper and smokier. Olive paused to take a deep breath, scanning the wooded area throughout her for one more fuzzy orange splotch. yet this time, what she noticed wasn’t fuzzy and orange. It was once good and wood and darkish, and it jutted out from at the back of a cluster of birch timber within the distance. conserving her leaf-crunching footsteps as mild as she can make them, Olive tiptoed closer. A tiny cottage, rarely greater than a shack, waited for her in a small clearing. Its wood roof used to be crooked. Stones have been stacked jointly haphazardly to shape its partitions.