{"product_id":"devils-nightisbn-9780593642024","title":"Devil's Night","description":"\u003cb\u003eOne woman’s worst fears come to life in the third novel of the Devil’s Night dark romance series by \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestseller Penelope Douglas, now with bonus material.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sending Damon to prison was the worst thing Winter could’ve done. It didn’t matter that he did the crime or that she wished he was dead. Winter thought he’d cool off in jail and be anything but the horror he was, or that at the very least she’d have time to disappear before he got out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But she was wrong. Three years came and went too fast, and prison only gave him time to plan. And while Winter anticipated his vengeance, she didn’t expect this. He doesn’t want to make her hurt. He wants to make everything hurt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Damon knows he needs to get rid of Winter’s father, giving her, her sister, and her mother nowhere to run. The Ashby women are desperate for a knight in shining armor. But that’s not what’s coming.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It's time Damon took control of his future. It’s time he showed them all that he will never stop being the nightmare they think he is.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Damon won’t have to break into her home to do it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As the new man of the house, he has all the keys.\u003cb\u003ePenelope Douglas\u003c\/b\u003e is a \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eWall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author. Their books have been translated into twenty languages and include the Fall Away series, the Hellbent series, the Devil’s Night series, and the stand-alones \u003ci\u003eMisconduct\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ePunk 57\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eBirthday Girl\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eCredence\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eTryst Six Venom\u003c\/i\u003e. They live in New England with their husband and daughter.Chapter 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWinter\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy ballet slipper brushes the hardwood floor as I slowly step down the long hallway. The glow of the candles on their pedestals lines the dark walls, and I fidget with my fingers as I glance from left to right at every closed door I pass.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI don't like this house. I've never liked it here.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut at least the parties are only twice a year-after summer recitals in June and following the premiere of the annual Nutcracker performance in December. Madame Delova loves ballet, and as my school's benefactress she considers it a \"gift to the masses to descend from her tower once in a while to entertain the villagers and allow us into her home.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOr so I overheard my mom say once.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe house is so big that I don't think I'll ever see all of it, and it's filled with things that everyone is always gushing over and whispering about, but it makes me nervous. I feel like I'll break something every time I turn around.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd it's too dark. Even worse today with the house lit only by candlelight. I suppose it's Madame's way of making everything look like a dream, the way she kind of looks herself: surreal, too perfect, and porcelain. Not exactly real.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI press my lips together, pausing before I call out, \"Mom?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhere is she?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI step softly, not sure where I am or how I'll get back to the party, but I know I saw my mom come upstairs. I think there's a third floor, too, but I'm not sure where the next stairwell is to get to it. Why would she come up here? Everyone is downstairs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI clench my jaw harder with every step away from the party I take. The lights, voices, and music fade, and the silent darkness of the hallway slowly swallows me up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI should go back. She'll get mad that I followed her anyway.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Mom?\" I call again, scratching at the tights on my legs as the costume I've been wearing since this morning chafes my skin. \"Mom?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What the fuck is the matter with you?\" someone yells.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI jump.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Everyone is uncomfortable around you,\" the man continues. \"All you do is stand there! We talked about this.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI spot a sliver of light peeking through a cracked doorway and creep closer. I doubt my mom is in there. People don't yell at her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut maybe she is in there?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What is going on in that head of yours?\" the man bellows. \"Can't you speak? At all? Ever?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere's no response, though. Who is he mad at?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLeaning into the doorframe, I peer into the crack, trying to see who's in the room.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt first, all I can make out is gold. The golden glow of the golden lamp shining onto the golden desk set. But then I shift to the left, my pulse hammering in my chest, as I see Madame's husband, Mr. Torrance, cross into my view from behind his desk. He stands, breathing hard with his jaw set, as he looks down at whoever is on the other side.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Jesus Christ,\" he spits out with disdain. \"My son. My heir . . . Can anything come out of that fucking mouth of yours? All you've gotta say is 'Hello' and 'Thank you for coming.' You can't even answer a simple question when someone asks you. What the hell is wrong with you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy son. My heir.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI inch down and then up, trying to see around the edge of the door, but I can't see the other person. Madame and Mr. Torrance have a son. I rarely see him, though. He's my sister's age but goes to Catholic school.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Speak!\" his father bursts out again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI suck in a breath, and on reflex, I take a step. But I accidentally go forward instead of backward and hit the door. The hinges creak, the door creeps open another inch, and I rear back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOh, no.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI scurry away from the door, and whirl around, ready to bolt. But before I can escape, the door opens, light spills across the dark hardwood floors, and a tall shadow looms over me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI clench my thighs, the silvery ache burning like I'm about to pee my pants. Slowly, I turn my head and see Mr. Torrance standing there in a dark suit. The scowl on his face softens, and he lets out a sigh.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Hi,\" he says; his lips curl in a slight smile as he gazes down at me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOn instinct, I retreat a step. \"I . . . I got lost.\" I swallow, looking up at his dark eyes. \"Do you know where my mom is? I can't find her.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut just then, the room's other occupant swings the door open even more, letting the knob hit the wall, and charges around his father and out of the room. Black hair hanging in his eyes, head down, and necktie draped untied around his neck, he rushes past me without a look and barrels down the stairs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis footsteps disappear, and I turn back to Mr. Torrance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe smiles, coming down and squatting at my level. I rear away a little.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You're Margot's daughter,\" he says. \"Winter, right?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI nod, putting a foot behind me and ready to take another step back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut he reaches over and places a hand under my chin. \"You have your mother's eyes.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI don't. No one ever says that. I raise my chin so it isn't touching his hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"How old are you?\" he asks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe takes my chin again, tilting my head left and right as his eyes appraise me. Then they fall away from my face and down my white leotard and tutu, past my tights and down to my feet. They float back up, meeting my eyes, but now the smile is gone. Something different plays behind his gaze as he stares at me, and I don't know if it's his silence, his size, or how I can't hear the party anymore, but I finish my step and pull away a few more inches.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I'm eight,\" I mumble, dropping my eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI don't need his help finding my mom. I just want to leave now. He was so mean to his son. My parents aren't perfect, but I've never been screamed at like that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You're going to be very beautiful someday,\" he adds in almost a whisper. \"Like your mother.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI try for a few seconds and then finally I'm able to swallow the lump in my throat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The first time I saw my wife,\" he goes on, \"she was in a costume very much like yours.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI don't have to imagine what Madame looks like in costumes. There are pictures and paintings of her all over the house and the studio.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMr. Torrance stays there for a moment, his height and eyes hovering over me and making me uncomfortable.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFinally, he drops his hand and inhales a breath as if snapping out of something. \"Run along and play,\" he tells me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI spin around, darting the way I came, but I have to glance over my shoulder one more time to make sure he's far away and not following me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut as I look, I see him continue down the hallway, open the door straight ahead, and pause for a moment as if seeing someone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI almost turn back around to keep going, but he moves out of the doorway, swinging around to close the door, and I see her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy mom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI narrow my eyes, blinking to make sure it's her. White afternoon dress, long hair the same color as mine, playful smile on her lips . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe door closes, cutting off the image of her heading toward him, and I stand in the black hallway, the sound of a lock clicking echoing around me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI should go. I don't know what's going on, but I don't think I should bother her. Twisting around, I run back down the stairs, through the foyer again, and toward the rear of the house and the party.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe back door opens, a waiter coming through with a tray, and I slip out, flitting across the stone patio and through a sea of adults. Chatter surrounds me, people laugh, drink, and eat, while a flute player in a light blue gown shares a corner with a string quartet far off to my right. They fill the terrace with Vivaldi's Four Seasons, music I know really well from dancing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe waitstaff clears silverware while glasses clink, and I glance up at the darkening sky, seeing the clouds cover the sun and cast a shadow over the party. Perfect for the candlelight.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSpotting a group in white, I see my friends, all similarly dressed, since we just performed in our recital earlier today, run behind some hedges. They're huddled together, giggling, and my sister, three years older than me, is in the middle of them. I only hesitate a moment before I take a step, following them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRunning around the hedge and onto the grass, I suddenly stop and inhale the rush of wind that hits me as it blows through the trees. Chills spread up my arms, and I glance back at the house and the windows on the second floor where I'd been. My mom might come looking for me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut the party is boring, and my friends are this way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBeyond the house and party, the land opens up into a vast lawn, lined and dotted with flower beds to my right and left as well as trees and rolling hills in the distance. It spans far and wide and looks like something out of a fairy tale.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI look over, seeing my sister in a tight group with our classmates. What are they doing? She glances over at me, smirks, and then says something quickly to them before they all rush into the garden maze, disappearing behind the tall hedges.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Wait!\" I shout. \"Ari, wait for me!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI take off down the small slope and toward the maze, stopping only briefly at the entrance and flashing my gaze to the hedges on either side. The path is only visible for several more feet before I'm forced to make a turn, and I didn't see where they went. What if I get lost?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI shake my head. No. This wouldn't be dangerous. If it were, they would've blocked it off. Right? A bunch of kids just went in. It's fine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI push off my foot, breaking into a run as the wind sweeps through the cypresses, the promise in the gray sky and looming clouds making the hair on my arms rise. I turn right and wind around the trees, following the path and losing my way as the entrance to the maze gets farther away from me the deeper I go.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe smell of earth fills my lungs as I breathe in, and even though the ground is covered with grass, dirt scuffs my slippers, and I shift uncomfortably. They're going to be ruined now. I know it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut Madame insisted we keep our full costumes on, even after the performance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLaughter and howling echo in the distance, and I shoot my head up, starting to walk faster to follow the sound. They're still in here.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter a minute, though, the sounds die out, and I stop, straining to hear where my sister and friends might be.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Ari?\" I call.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut I'm all alone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI step timidly down the path, coming to an open plot of green with a big fountain in the middle. The space is about twice the size of my bedroom, surrounded by tall cypresses with three other pathways leading off from the big, open area. Is this the center of the maze?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe fountain is massive, with a gray stone bowl at the bottom and a smaller one on top. Water shoots from the spouts, filling the upper bowl and pouring down like thick waterfalls into the lower one. It creates the prettiest sound. Like roaring rapids. So peaceful.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut not looking where I'm going, I crash into someone and stumble backward. A woman's arms rise with her palms up and away from me as if I'm dirty and she doesn't want to touch me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI see Madame's surprised eyes soften with her smile, her body graceful and fluid like this is a theater and she's always onstage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Hello, sweetheart.\" Her voice is drenched in sweetness. \"Are you having fun?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI step back and drop my eyes, nodding.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Have you seen my son?\" she asks. \"He loves parties, and I don't want him to miss this.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe loves parties? I dig in my eyebrows, confused. His father doesn't seem to agree.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI'm about to tell her no, but then something to my right catches my attention, and I look over, thinning my eyes at the dark form.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe dark form inside the fountain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt sits behind the water in the bottom bowl, almost entirely hidden.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDamon. Their son who was just getting yelled at upstairs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI pause for a moment, the lie coming out before I can stop it. \"No.\" I shake my head. \"No, I haven't seen him, Madame. I'm sorry.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI don't know why I don't tell her he's right there, but after the way his dad just shouted at him, I guess he looks like he wants to be left alone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI avoid Madame's eyes like she'll be able to tell I'm lying, and instead stare straight ahead. Her black dress flows to mid-calf, glittering with little jewels and pearls as the top hugs her slender body and the bottom sways as she moves. Her long black hair drapes down her back, as straight and shimmering as a cool stream of water.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI never hear my mom say anything nice about her, but while people are afraid of her, they are definitely nice to her face. She doesn't look much older than my babysitter, but she has a kid older than me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWithout saying anything, she glides around me and walks toward the entrance, while I stay still for a moment, wondering if I should follow and just leave, too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut I don't.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI know he probably doesn't want to see anyone, but I kind of feel bad that he's alone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSlowly, I inch toward the fountain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePeering through the streams of water pouring down, I try to make him out as he quietly hides. Arms clad in a black suit coat, resting on his knees, and dark hair hanging over his eyes and sticking to his porcelain cheekbones.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhy is he in the fountain?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Damon?\" I say in a timid voice. \"Are you okay?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe says nothing, and through the falling water, I can tell he doesn't move. It's like he doesn't hear me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClearing my throat, I harden my voice. \"Why are you sitting in there?\" And then I add, \"Can I come in, too?\"","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300098396389,"sku":"NP9780593642024","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593642023_06afc402-789b-4b94-948d-c227eab8374e.jpg?v=1730743664","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/devils-nightisbn-9780593642024","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}