The stakes are higher than ever in this kid-favorite horror series that's perfect for fans of Small Spaces , Nightbooks , and Wednesday This house is keeping secrets . . . On Halloween night, not all is what it seems. When Olive swallows her fear of the McMartins to sneak Morton out and go trick-or-treating, they're in for a shock—and being followed by an ominous creature is only the beginning. Strangers have come to Linden Street, and though they claim to be her allies, Olive has a bad feeling. After she's forced into an uneven bargain with Annabelle McMartin, Olive sacrifices something that could mean doom for the house—and for Elsewhere itself. Can she trust the strangers? Or will she put her faith in her own worst enemies to save the people and home she loves? Welcome to Elsewhere . . . First, a pair of enchanted spectacles. Next, a deadly book. Then, magical paints from which a world called Elsewhere spills like a dream turned nightmare. And lastly, strangers, come to take it all for themselves—if even darker forces don’t prevail. At the center: the flawed and tenacious Olive, three talking cats, two remarkable friends, and a hard-won trust that binds them all. This is the scary, must-read series widely praised and adored by kids, adults, and critics alike. "Stunning." — Booklist A two-time Pushcart nominee for poetry, Jacqueline West came to writing by way of opera (she studied vocal performance) and acting (she worked as an actress at a dinner theatre while earning her degree). Looking back on it, it's hard for Jacqueline to believe she ever wanted to be an opera singer, but singing, acting, and writing have one thing in common, she says: "They're all about telling a story, about getting inside the mind of someone other than yourself." The Books of Elsewhere series was inspired by a strange old house in Jacqueline's home town--three floors, cracking paint, sagging porches--that was owned by a professor who created all sorts of odd contraptions. Like lots of kids who live mostly in their imaginations, Jacqueline was obsessed with all things mysterious, creepy, and darkly funny, and with stories where magic intersects with everyday life. She was enthralled by Roald Dahl, Lewis Carroll, John Bellairs, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh , Calvin and Hobbes , Bunnicula , etc. Jacqueline lives with her husband and their dog, Brom Bones (of Sleepy Hollow fame) in Red Wing, MN. Her first YA novel, tentatively titled All Our Yesterdays, is on our winter 2014 list. Olive streaked toward the closest exit, a pair of doors that led not to the crowded front corridor, but to one of the school’s inner halls. She smacked through the doors, their heavy panels creaking open to let out the many running feet that came right behind her. Everyone shot out into the dark corridor, the cats racing protectively around Olive’s ankles, Morton reaching up to grab her gloved hand. They turned a corner into an even darker hall. Beneath their footsteps and her own gasping breath, Olive could hear the gym doors creaking open, releas-ing a blast of screams and laughter before whooshing shut again. . . . Leaving one more pair of footsteps to follow them into the darkness. OTHER BOOKS YOU MAY ENJOY The Books of Elsewhere: Volume 1: The Shadows Jacqueline West The Books of Elsewhere: Volume 2: Spellbound Jacqueline West The Books of Elsewhere: Volume 3: The Second Spy Jacqueline West Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Roald Dahl The Ghost’s Grave Peg Kehret Gilda Joyce, Psychic Investigator Jennifer Allison Matilda Roald Dahl Savvy Ingrid Law The Secret of Platform 13 Eva Ibbotson DIAL BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS an imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. 1 HOUSES ARE GOOD at keeping secrets. They shut out light. They muffle sounds. Some have musty attics and murky basements. Some have closets stacked with sealed boxes and locked rooms where no one ever goes. A house can stand with its windows curtained and its doors shut for decades—even centuries—without revealing a hint of what is hidden inside. The old stone house on Linden Street had kept its secrets for a very long time. For more than a hundred years, it had loomed at the crest of the hill, its towering black rooftops piercing a canopy of ancient trees. A pool of shadows surrounded the house, even on the sunniest days. Overgrown hedges enclosed its garden. Its deep-set windows were blurry and dark. Even in the height of summer, its stone walls exhaled a faint, grave-like chill, as though warmth and sunlight could never quite get in, and the darkness inside could never quite get out. But as this particular summer dwindled into autumn, and the ancient trees dropped their leaves, and the nights grew long and cool and dark, the secrets hidden in the old stone house seemed to rise, at long last, to the surface. On those lingering autumn evenings, dim red and purple lights began to glow from the house’s upper windows, where the silhouettes of watchful cats sat motionl