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In this thrilling fantasy series, Chloe and Wren must embrace their hidden gifts to uncover the unsettling secrets of an old Victorian house — and defeat the powerful force that’s unleashing havoc and death upon them…

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A mysterious chest.

A terrifying vision.

Are their newfound powers enough to take down an unspeakable evil?

Chloe Blake’s campus rental has it all: a retro Victorian vibe, a beautiful picture window, and a perfect view of Ethan Reynolds—the guy who broke her heart and lives across the street. But when disturbing visions of death slide across the panes, Chloe’s convinced she’s glimpsed Ethan’s future. She’ll stop at nothing to change fate and save him… even if it means everyone thinks she’s crazy.

Then, one by one, others appear at the house, drawn by an ancient power to seek out the powerful talismans concealed in the attic. Together, they must discover the house’s secrets and unlock their hidden powers to take down the shadowy specter that haunts their premonitions and leaves chaos in its wake.

And soon, they learn it’s not only about saving Ethan.

It’s about saving EVERYONE.

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They gathered their things and headed for the front door, but Chloe stopped short as she felt that shiver up her spine again.

“What is it?” Miranda asked from where she was crouched, tying her shoe.

“I'm not sure.” She crossed to the picture window and peered out at the now bustling street. Ducking in a fruitless effort to avoid the morning drizzle, students were moving into the frat house across the street—all along the street, actually—carrying boxes and bags from double-parked cars and trucks, and exchanging excited greetings and laughter.

“Chlo? What's going on?” Miranda asked.

Then she saw it—the dark figure in the shadows next to the oak tree. “There. That guy.”

Miranda peered in the direction Chloe pointed. “Which guy?”

“The one in the shadows.”

“Shadows?” Miranda looked at her in confusion. “It's broad daylight.”

Then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

Chloe let out a shaky breath. “You didn't see him?”

Miranda let out an irritated huff. “See what, Chloe? What are you talking about?”

She was about to reply, but suddenly, the window flashed, like light reflecting on a mirror, and the people in the street vanished, leaving only the reflection of Chloe and Miranda.

“What the hell?” She reached out and touched the fingertips of her reflection, but as soon as she did, the windows flashed again and the image changed.

Before her stood two little girls, seven or eight years old, both dark-haired and dark-eyed—one with a bright pink cast on her left hand. They looked familiar, but it took Chloe a moment to recognize them.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

“Chloe, you're scaring me.” Miranda grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to turn her away from the image, but
Chloe stood firm.

“Are you saying you don't see that?” she asked, jerking away from Miranda's grip as she pointed at the little girls who were now grinning at each other and bouncing on their toes.

“See what?” she asked frantically.

Chloe felt tears of frustration prick at her eyes. “It's . . . it's us. When we were little. Remember when you broke your arm?”

She could feel Miranda's gaze on her, confused and concerned. “My arm? When I was seven?”

Chloe nodded. “I see us.”

Miranda was quiet for a long moment. “You're saying you see us, as little kids, in that window?”

“I can't explain it, but yeah,” she said, her voice cracking.
Then the window flashed again and Chloe gasped.

“What?” Miranda grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly.

Chloe stared at the shifting image, her mouth dropping open in shock. The little girls disappeared and suddenly she was staring at a rainy scene in the darkness, a curving roadway, and on the far shoulder, a mass of twisted metal.

Then it went black, and the street and frat boys reappeared, laughing as they unloaded their cars.

“Chloe . . .” Miranda squeezed her hand even tighter. “What is it?”

She turned to Miranda, trying to make sense of what she'd seen. “It was an accident,” she said. “A car accident. What the hell is happening?” She lifted a trembling hand to her forehead. “I feel like I'm going crazy.”

“No.” Miranda grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder, then grabbed Chloe's. “Come on. We're getting out of here.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, dazed, as Miranda pulled her toward the front door.

“Somewhere where you can breathe, for one,” her friend said. “And then we're going to figure out just what's going on with this house.”




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