The Name of the Star (The Shades of London)
Maureen Johnson
Language: English
Pages: 400
ISBN: 0142422053
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
New York Times bestseller Maureen Johnson takes on Jack the Ripper in this captivating paranormal thriller!
The day that Louisiana teenager Rory Deveaux arrives in London to start a new life at boarding school is also the day a series of brutal murders breaks out over the city, killings mimicking the horrific Jack the Ripper spree of more than a century ago. Soon "Rippermania" takes hold of modern-day London, and the police are left with few leads and no witnesses. Except one. Rory spotted the man police believe to be the prime suspect. But she is the only one who saw him--the only one who can see him. And now Rory has become his next target. In this edge-of-your-seat thriller, full of suspense, humor, and romance, Rory will learn the truth about the secret ghost police of London and discover her own shocking abilities.
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to the window. “I can’t believe this is happening. Just look out there.” We both knelt on the spare bed we had pushed against the wall and were using as a sofa. It was right under our middle window. Through the rain-streaked glass, we saw the white-suited figures coming in and out of the white tent. More lights were set up. More people arrived. More cameras and police and police tape. This activity remained the focus of the next few hours, with the occasional break to drink tea. Since the view
it was illuminated by dozens of high-powered work lights. The press was there too, hovering on the edges of campus, watching. The school sent around an e-mail saying how really, really safe it all was, even though there was a homicide in vestigation going on on the green at that very second, and several psychologists were being called in to talk to anyone who felt like they needed support. And people were freaked out, but they showed it in weird ways. Back at home, people would have been weeping
that had been allowed to turn very slightly golden, but not brown with age. Alistair had given me a serious book, one that covered every as pect of Samuel Pepys’s life. It was time to be a serious student, so I found the section of the book devoted to the section of the diary I was reading at the moment and tried to develop an interest. But what I was really watching was the light in the aisle upstairs. It clicked off, and neither Boo nor Alistair emerged, and Boo didn’t switch it back on. They
have pockets or anything. And people would just see a phone floating around, which would be weird. She picks up trash be cause she likes to keep busy, and apparently people don’t no tice trash moving. They think the wind’s blown it or someone’s thrown it. You have to think about these kinds of things when you’re a ghost.” “I don’t know if I can do this,” I said. “Do what?” “This thing. This thing that I am.” “Course you can. There’s nothing to do, anyway. It’s just nat ural, yeah?” “How am I
to make a com �� pact industrial kitchen and the customary row of steam trays. Tonight’s dinner consisted of a chicken casserole, vegetarian shepherd’s pie, a pan of roasted potatoes, green beans, and some rolls. There was a thin layer of golden grease over every thing except the rolls, which was fine by me. I hadn’t eaten all day, and I had a stomach that could handle any amount of grease I could get inside it. I took a little bit of everything as Charlotte looked over my plate. I met her