By Elise Stokes
Some secrets and techniques Are greater Left Buried...
When the mysterious Gavin Phillips returns to Seattle after a chronic and unexplained absence, he threatens to show fifteen-year-old Cassidy Jones's brilliant mystery: she is a superhero. yet his presence is much extra sinister than she realizes, for it quickly turns into obvious that his hidden schedule holds a gloomy and hazardous cause that would unharness an unprecedented evil upon an unsuspecting global. Can Cassidy cease him ahead of all is lost?
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Additional info for Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book 3)
It was always like this. To the servants he might be “the young archduke,” but nobles like Volger never let Alek forget his position. Thanks to his mother’s common blood, he wasn’t fit to inherit royal lands and titles. His father might be heir to an empire of fifty million souls, but Alek was heir to nothing. Volger himself was only a wildcount—no farmlands to his name, just a bit of forest—but even he could feel superior to the son of a lady-in-waiting. Alek managed to stay quiet, though, letting his anger cool as they stole through the vast and darkened banquet kitchens.
The Stormwalker wavered drunkenly for a moment, threatening to fall. But long seconds later Alek felt the machine’s weight settle into the moss and dirt. It was balanced with one foot stretching back, like a fencer posing after a lunge. He pushed on both saunters, the left leg pulling at whatever had entangled it, the right straining forward. The Daimler engines groaned, and metal joints hissed. Finally a shudder passed through the cabin, along with the satisfying sound of roots tearing from the ground— the Stormwalker rising up.
Then, just as the spire of St. Paul’s Cathedral rose into view, a shiver passed through the rig. Deryn scowled. Were her ten minutes up already? She looked down, but the line leading to the ground hung slack. They weren’t reeling her in just yet. The jolt came again, and Deryn saw a few of the tentacles around her clench, coiling like ribbons scraped between a pair of scissors. They were slowly gathering back into a single strand. The Huxley was nervous. Deryn swung herself from side to side, ignoring the majesty of London to search the horizon for whatever was spooking the airbeast.