Romance and the supernatural mingle with uncontrolled dark ambition, and Abby ― with the help of her extraordinary horse, Dancer ― must put a stop to it before her entire community is destroyed. Champion showjumper Dancer needs a new rider for the upcoming Grand Invitational, and Abby Malone is delighted to be chosen. It’s a dream come true, and she can hardly wait to get started. However, it turns out that Abby and Dancer may have some unexpected ― and dangerous ― hurdles to jump. The community is staging a play in the old converted barn, and as strange events begin to occur, Abby soon discovers something about the theatre is not quite right. Is she imagining things? Or is someone out to get her? Shelley Peterson is the bestselling author of several novels for young readers, including Sundancer , Christmas at Saddle Creek , and Jockey Girl . She raises horses at Fox Ridge, her family’s stable in Caledon. CHAPTER 1: THE OLD THEATRE Abby Malone rode her elegant bay mare, Moonlight Sonata, to the top of the ridge. She looked down at Saddle Creek, and observed that the grey water, as it rushed over the rocks, mirrored the turbulence of the darkening skies. At sixteen years of age, Abby was pretty and long-legged. Her silky blond hair was pulled into a low ponytail under her old black riding cap, and her cheeks were ruddy with health and energy. Her shape was fast becoming that of a woman, but her attitude remained unabashedly tomboyish. Moonlight Sonata lowered her head to nibble the tender spring grass under the winter-coarsened weeds. Abby patted her sleek, dark neck and studied the wild beauty of the scene below. The wind was coming up. Treetops swayed and tall reeds waved. She inhaled deeply and savoured the smells of water, earth, and pine. The air around her tingled with edgy energy, signalling the onset of an electrical storm. “There’s quite a storm coming, Moonie,” she said to her trusted companion. Suddenly, a two-year-old filly raced up the rise at full speed. “Whoa there, Leggy!” Abby yelled authoritatively. The filly stopped inches from the edge of the ridge, reared up, then stamped her front hoof impatiently. “You little brat,” seethed Abby. “You scared me!” Abby reached for the rope that dangled from the filly’s halter and grabbed it firmly. “That’s the last time I’m taking you with us, no matter how much of a fuss you make.” As an act of kindness, Abby had decided to bring the anxious Leggy along for the ride, but no sooner were they off the road, than she’d bolted in search of her own excitement. Now the scheming look in the young horse’s eyes made Abby glare back at her in exasperation. Moonie had given birth to this beautiful creature two years earlier, and Abby had proudly named her Moon Dancer. The youngster was already taller than her mother and still growing rapidly. The exceptional length of her legs had given her the stable name of “Leggy,” and it had stuck. Her glossy chestnut coat was the exact shade of her father’s, and her spirit was rebellious. “You’re your father’s daughter, all right,” Abby observed aloud. Leggy’s sire was Dancer, the local legend. He and his owner, Hilary “Mousie” James, had won countless jumping competitions. They’d been an unbeatable team until the cruel and savage attack five years earlier by Samuel Owens. Owens had quickly been judged legally insane and sent to the psychiatric facility at Penetang. That Dancer had survived at all was remarkable, but he had never competed again. He was now retired at Hogscroft, the James’ farm. Abby sniffed the air; they were minutes away from a downpour. “Okay, ladies, gotta get back.” The light was fading fast. Trying to radiate calmness for the horses’ sakes, she gently pulled Moonie’s head up from the grass and turned her around. Leggy followed on the lead line but hopped around nervously, afraid of the changing weather. Just then, something dark and furry darted out from the trees. “Hey, Cody!” A small grey coyote looked up at Abby adoringly, eyes shining. This girl was his best friend. Abby returned his gaze. She’d found him when he was only a few days old and dying of starvation. She’d fed him a special mother’s milk substitution every few hours until he could eat on his own. Cody survived and grew into a small but healthy adult. Abby constantly marvelled at his intelligence and ingenuity. He was completely devoted to her; her shadow. *** Abby, Moonie, Leggy, and Cody headed toward home. Old trees groaned and strained against the wind as the little group trotted down the path through the woods. Overhead, branches blocked what little remained of the light, leaving them to ride in near-darkness. As they came out of the woods into a hay field, a strong gust of wind hit them. Angry-looking clouds were rapidly closing in, and the sky was turning black. The rain started suddenly. Stinging, cold, driving rain. The wind howled, and Leggy lurched away in fear. “Leggy, honey, don’t you worry,