Kelley Armstrong: [Darkest Powers Series] - The Summoning BK1 The Summoning Bk1 By KELLEY ARMSTRONG Create PDF files without this. Chloe saunders used to have a relatively normal life. But now she finds herself in the middle of some really strange situations: She suddenly. fvbgtrd Just follow the button below to continue download The Summoning ( Darkest Powers, #1) by Kelley Armstrong PDF EPub book or you can read it.
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The Darkest Powers Series, Book 1: The Summoning. Written by Kelley Armstrong. Series Darkest Powers. Share Save. The Darkest Powers Series, Book 1. Kelley Armstrong. The Summoning Kelley Armstrong. PLAYAWAY All-in- one pre-loaded digital AUDIOBOOK. Download The Summoning pdf. Author: Armstrong Kelley. 33 downloads Views KB Size Report. DOWNLOAD EPUB The Darkest Powers Trilogy 03 The Reckoning. Read more.
She's not so sure. After all, these ghosts seem so real. And when fellow patients Simon and Liz start to show similarly unbelievable abilities, Chloe finds herself in a situation beyond her control in more ways than one. The Summoning is the first in a planned trilogy for teenagers, but it is set, I think, in the same fantasyverse as Armstrong's highly successful adult series Women of the Otherworld. It features a range of supernatural races living in contemporary North America and the lead character in each volume is female.
The books are light, but wonderfully imagined and have pacy, adventure plots with a healthy dollop of otherworldly sex - always fascinating. Take away the sex, and you can see the makings of a rather spiffing spin off series for children in a post Buffy world. So the potential is great. I'm not sure, though, that it was altogether successful. Armstrong has an easy, relaxed style, but writes a super fight or chase scene.
She's at her best in the thick of the action. She also creates sympathetic and interesting characters with a fully-fleshed and credible backstory. We see this in The Summoning but it does take a while to get there. We're over half-way through its four hundred pages before the supernatural element is actually confirmed and even then there are too many hints, too many fleeting snatches.
She's my best friend. She gets moody, and I've heard that's why she's here, but I think she's fine. She has this 'thing' for fire. Thing for fire? Did that mean she set fires? I thought this place was supposed to be safe. What about the boys? Were any of them violent? I rubbed my stomach. I glanced up to see Mrs. Talbot coming through what I guessed was the kitchen door, milk pitcher in hand.
She smiled at me.
Let me introduce you. It was creepy. No one said a word, just held out their hands, gulped their pill down with water, and returned to their conversations. When I stared at mine, Miss Van Dop said the doctor would explain everything later, but for now, I should just take it.
So I did. After we'd eaten, we trooped upstairs to dress.
Rae was in the lead, followed by Liz and Tori. Then me. Rae's shoulders tightened and she didn't turn. It's your turn, and I want to wear that new shirt my mom bought me. Got that part. So wear it. It's brand-new. That's gross. Tori shot a scowl over her shoulder, as if this were my fault. As she turned, something flashed between us, and I stumbled back a step, grabbing the railing. Her scowl twisted. Liz came down the two steps between us and laid her fingers on my arm.
You're all white. My brother stutters, too. Lots of little kids do it. Not teenagers. Talbot peered around the hall doorway below. Someone could get hurt. Class is in ten minutes. Chloe, we're still waiting for notes from your teachers, so you won't be in class today. When you're dressed, we'll discuss your schedule. We rose at 7: Ate, showered, dressed, and were in class by 9: Break at Back to class.
Break for lunch at noon.
Back to class from 1: At some point during classes -the timing would vary-we'd have our individual hour-long therapy session with Dr.
Gill; my first would be after lunch today. From 4: In addition to classes and therapy, we had chores. A lot of chores from the looks of the list. These had to be done during our free time before and after dinner. Plus we had to squeeze in thirty minutes of physical activity every day.
Then after a snack, it was off to bed at 9: Nutritious snacks? Therapy sessions? Chore lists? Mandatory exercises? Nine o'clock bedtime? Boot camp was starting to look good. I didn't belong here. I really didn't. Talbot scurrying off, calling back promises to return with my job list. Oh joy. I sat in the living room trying to think, but the unrelenting cheerfulness was like a bright light shining in my eyes, making it hard to concentrate.
A few days of yellow paint and daisies and I'd turn into a happy zombie, like Liz. I felt a pang of shame. Liz had made me feel welcome and been quick to defend me against her friend. If being cheerful was a mental illness, it wasn't such a bad one to have - certainly better than seeing burned-up people.
I rubbed the back of my neck and closed my eyes. Lyle House wasn't so bad, really. Better than padded rooms and endless hallways filled with real zombies, shambling mental patients so doped up they couldn't be bothered to get dressed, much less bathe. Maybe, in some ways, I'd be happier with ugly couches and white walls and bars on the windows, so there'd be no false promises.
Yet just because I couldn't see any bars didn't mean it was as open as it seemed. It couldn't be. I walked to the front window. Closed, despite the sunny day. There was a hole where there'd probably been a latch for opening it. I looked out. Lots of trees, a quiet street, more older houses on big lots. No electric fences. All very ordinary, but I suspected if I grabbed a chair and smashed the window, an alarm would sound.
So where was the alarm? I stepped into the hall, glanced at the front door, and saw it, blinking away. No attempt to hide it. A reminder, I guess.
This might look like your house, but don't try walking out the front door. What about the back? I went into the dining room and looked out the window into a large yard with as many trees as the front.
There was a shed, lawn chairs, and gardens. The soccer ball on one wooden chair and the basketball hoop over a cement pad suggested we were allowed out -probably for that "thirty minutes of physical activity. And the six-foot-high fence was a good deterrent. Her eyes glittered with what looked like amusement, but her face was solemn.
I w-was just looking around. Oh, and while I was getting dressed, I noticed I don't have my necklace. It's kind of special. We don't like our girls wearing jewelry.
Now, as for looking around She pulled out a dining room chair and motioned for me to sit. I did. I know.
They're bright enough to know that whatever is out there is worse than what's in here. And what's in here isn't so bad. Not Disney World, but not prison either. The only escape attempts we've ever had are from kids trying to sneak out to meet friends.
Hardly serious, but parents expect better security from us; and, while we pride ourselves on providing a homelike environment, I think it's important to point out the limits early. You are allowed out the back only, and there is no gate. Because of the alarm, you must notify us before going out, so we can disable it and, yes, watch you. If you have any questions about what you can and cannot do, come to me. I won't sugarcoat it for you, Chloe.
I believe honesty is the first step to establishing trust, and trust is critical in a place like this. Six MRS. I didn't dare tell her I'd never peeled one in my life. After hacking my thumb, I got the hang of it. As I peeled, my mind started to wander. So I called in my best defense: As traumatic experiences went, the last few days were my best film fodder ever.
But what genre would it be? Straight horror? Or psychological suspense? Maybe a combination of elements, surprising the viewer with - "Peeling duty already? A guy, in fact, maybe a year older than me, a half foot taller and slender, with high cheekbones and dark blond hair worn in short, messy spikes. His almond-shaped brown eyes danced with amusement.
I jumped back. The carrot leaped from my hands and bounced off his arm. A real arm. Attached to a real guy. Beyond it, Mrs. Talbot was talking to Liz. His smile was friendly, and he was definitely cute, but cute didn't count with a guy who had you cornered in a group home. He backed up to the walk-in pantry, lifted a finger telling me to wait, then disappeared inside. I could hear him rooting around in the shelves.
When I peeked in, he was taking down a box of graham crackers. A kitchen raid? I couldn't help smiling. Guess it didn't matter whether it was a group home or summer camp, guys and their stomachs didn't change. Simon pulled out an unopened sleeve of crackers. Right, bro? The guy standing behind me had to be six feet tall, with shoulders as wide as the door. Though he was as big as an adult, he'd never be mistaken for one.
His face could be used as the "before" picture for acne cream. Dark hair hung in his eyes, lank and dull. When he started to retreat, Simon grabbed the back of his shirt. Chloe, my brother, Derek. Simon waved him away, then rolled his eyes. Anyway, I was just going to say welcome -" "Simon? I thought I heard you.
Her expression flipped from simmering to simpering. Talbot said I could have free time until lunch and directed me to the media room. If I was hoping for a big-screen TV with surround sound and a top-of-the-line computer, I was out of luck. One flip through the movie collection and I knew I wouldn't be spending much time here. I turned on the computer.
It took five minutes to boot up. Windows I spent another five minutes trying to remember how to use Windows. We had Macs at school and I'd used that as an excuse to finally persuade my dad to download me an Apple laptop -complete with all the upgraded movie editing programs. I searched for a browser. I hoped for Firefox, but wasn't getting anything better than plain old IE.
I typed in a URL and held my breath, expecting to get a "cannot connect to the Internet message. Guess we weren't as cut off from the outside world as I'd feared.
I flipped through my favorite sites, killing time until I worked up the nerve to check my in-box. The browser chugged away for a minute, then brought up a "Page cannot be displayed" message.
I tried Hotmail. Same thing. Talbot walked in. It does more than block some Web sites, I'm afraid. You can send and receive e-mail through our account. You need to use the e-mail program that came with the computer, and get Miss Van Dop to type in the password so you can send it. A pain, I know, but we had a problem last year with a young man accessing sites he shouldn't have and when the board of directors found out. Now, it's time for lunch. He said hello, asked how things were going, then turned his attention to his PSP as he ate.
Like everything else at Lyle House, it was all very normal. Too normal.
Every time someone moved, I tensed, waiting for her to start speaking in tongues or screaming about bugs crawling over his plate. No one did. The food was decent enough. A homemade casserole, chock-full of vegetables and meat. Healthy, I was sure, like the milk and whole wheat rolls we had to go with it.
For dessert we'd been promised Jell-O. The sirens and screeching tires from Peter's game provided most of the meal's soundtrack. Rae was a no-show. Tori and Liz twittered together, too low for me to join in. Derek was too busy inhaling his food to talk. So it was left to Simon to play host. He asked what part of the city I was from.
When I admitted I hadn't been in any neighborhood very long, he said they'd moved around a lot, too -him and Derek. We started comparing worst-move-ever stories, and Tori jumped in with her own tale of moving horror-from her upstairs bedroom to her basement. Simon let her ramble for about two minutes before asking what grade I was in and at what school. I knew he was just being polite -including the new girl in conversation-but if Tori had been a cartoon character, smoke would have billowed from her ears.
I'd met girls like that. Territorial, whether it was about a hairbrush, a best friend, or a boy they had their eye on. Tell me, Chloe. What do you study there? Ghost photography? Ghost writing? She sees dead people.
I -I-I-" "There she goes. See if you can restart her. Derek returned to his lunch. If she does see ghosts, maybe she could help Liz with her, you know, poltergeist. Liz's eyes filled as she screeched back her chair. Tori retreated into stumbling apologies again. Simon grabbed Liz's glass before she knocked it flying.
Peter hunched over his game. Derek took advantage of the chaos to scoop up the last of the casserole. The kitchen door flew open and Mrs. Talbot appeared, but her words were beat back by the cacophony. Rae appeared in the other doorway holding a basket of dirty laundry. I glanced around, and realized with all the commotion no one would notice if I left.
Everyone knew. I was a freak. A crazy girl who saw ghosts. I belonged here. Lunch churned in my stomach. I hurried up the stairs, thinking of my bed with its thin mattress that smelled of chemical vanilla, suddenly so inviting. Pull the blinds down, curl up under the covers with my iPod, and try to forget - "Can I help you, Chloe?
My head hurts and-" "Then come and get some Tylenol. I don't have classes, so I thought-" "Come down, Chloe. She waited until I was almost there then said, "At Lyle House, bedrooms are for sleeping. Rae's getting a head start on the laundry before afternoon classes. If you've finished lunch, you can go help her. Instead, I saw gleaming stairs, the passage brightly lit, the walls painted pale green with a flowery border.
For the first time that day, I was glad of the too-bright cheeriness. The laundry room had a tile floor, an old recliner, a washer and dryer, and a bunch of cupboards and shelves. Zero "old basement" creep factor. The washing machine was running, but there was no sign of Rae. I looked across the room, toward a closed door.
As I walked to it, I picked up an acrid smell. If Rae was smoking down here, I wasn't going to be the one to catch her. I turned to go back upstairs, and saw Rae squeezed between two towers of shelves. Her lips formed a silent oath as she shook her hand, putting out a match.
I looked for a cigarette. There wasn't one -just the smoldering match. I heard Liz's voice again: She has this "thing" for fire. My reaction must have shown because Rae jumped forward, getting between me and the door, hands flying up. I wasn't going to do anything. I don't -" She slowed, seeing she had my attention. They wouldn't let me stay here if I did. I just like fire. But I'll grab an apple before class.
I use any excuse to avoid eating with Queen Victoria. You saw what she's like. With me, it's food. If I take a big helping or seconds or dessert, she gets her jabs in. Steer clear of her. She's like these monsters I saw in an old sci-fi film, vampires from space, only they didn't drink blood, they sucked out all your energy. Tobe Hooper. Psychic vampires. I'll have to remember that one. I bet none of them did either. Maybe mental illness was like stuttering.
I'd spent my life trying to convince people that just because I stammered didn't mean there was anything else wrong with me. I just had a problem that I was working hard to overcome. Like seeing people who weren't there. Like being attracted to fire. It didn't mean you were schizo or anything. The sooner I got over myself, the better off I'd be at Lyle House.
The sooner I'd gel better. I looked at the piles of laundry. Even at camp, someone did it for us. After a few minutes of working together, she said, "Does it make sense to you?
Nothing dangerous. I don't hurt myself or anyone else. I'm not really into it, but 1 like Japanese movies, animated or not. I watch the shows, read the books, chat on the boards, and all that. But this girl I know, she's completely into it. She spends most of her allowance on the books and DVDs. She can recite dialogue from them. Most kids are that way about something, right? With me, it's movies. Like knowing who directed a sci-fi movie made before I was born.
Just crazy about movies. Fascinated by them. Just like -" she took the matchbook from her pocket and waggled it "-me and fire. Talbot called. As her shadow rounded the corner, I snatched the matchbook from Rae's outstretched hand and hid it under the shirt I'd been folding. Talbot said. Chloe -" "I'll finish here, then come up. Talbot left. I passed Rae back her matchbook and she mouthed her thanks, then followed the nurse up the stairs.
And I was left alone in the basement. Did we wash the guys' underwear, too? I really hoped not. I sifted through the pile, finding only ones for Rae, Liz, and Tori, and exhaled in relief. I stiffened but forced myself to keep sorting. No one was here. Or, if someone was, he wasn't real. This was how I needed to handle it. Not jump like a scorched cat. Tough it out. Hear the voices, see the visions, and ignore them.
I lifted a red lace thong marked Tori and thought of my little girl cotton undies. Just one look. Just one - I glanced across the room. No one there. I sighed and returned to sorting. The one I'd noticed earlier, which was proof that the voice was really just my overactive imagination. Why do you need proof?
What else would it be? Two voices to ignore. Now there was a classic movie scene: Just come look behind the closed door, little girl. I laughed, but the sound quavered, squeaking at the end. Get a grip. Toughen up or they'll never let you out. My gaze snuck to the door. It looked like an ordinary closet.
If I really believed the voice was in my head, then what was stopping me from opening it? I strode to the door, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other, knowing if I stopped, I'd lose my nerve. It went a quarter turn, then stopped. I jiggled it. I jangled it again, then twisted sharply. The door didn't budge. As I turned, I smacked into a wall of solid flesh and for the second time that day gave a girlie yelp. I looked up to see the same face that had made me shriek the last time.
I stumbled back and would have fallen if the door wasn't right behind me. Derek made no move to catch me, just stood there, hands in his pockets as I recovered.
He moved into my path. To my relief, I managed to laugh. When he turned that piercing look on me, its intensity sucked the backbone out of me. Do they talk to you? He bent to listen. And they say 'Boo! Cross his arms and say, Make me, little girl. His lips twitched and I steeled myself, then I realized he was smiling.
Laughing at me. He stepped aside. I swept past him to the stairs. I'd had therapists before. Two of them, both after my mom died. I'd hated the first one, an old man with bad breath who'd closed his eyes when I talked, like he was taking a nap. When I complained, I got the second one, Dr. Anna, a woman with bright red hair who'd joked with me and reminded me of my mom and helped me get on with my life. A living science experiment - not only can I see ghosts, but I was genetically altered by a sinister organization called Edison Group.
What does that mean? For starters. I'm a teenage necromancer whose powers are out of control: I raise the dead without even trying. Trust me, that is not a power you want to have. Or die trying. Unfortunately, Chloe happens to be a genetically engineered necromancer who can raise the dead without even trying. She and her equally gifted or should that be 'cursed'?