This e-book collection first published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Childrenâs Books in 2017
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Copyright © Derek Landy 2015, 2016, 2016
Cover photography © Larry Rostant 2015, 2016, 2016
Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
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DEMON ROAD: 9780008140878
DEMON ROAD â DESOLATION: 9780008156947
DEMON ROAD â AMERICAN MONSTERS: 9780008157074
Ebook Edition © 2017 ISBN 9780008249427
Version: 2017-02-15
Laura J â
I introduced you to scary movies, the books of Stephen King, and the myriad delights of horror.
You introduced me to StarKid.
I have still not forgiven you.
TWELVE HOURS BEFORE AMBER LAMONTâS parents tried to kill her, she was sitting between them in the principalâs office, her hands in her lap, stifling all the things she wanted to say.
âWe donât stand for troublemakers in this school,â said Mrs Cobb. She was a fleshy woman in her fifties who wore a necklace so tight that when her neck quivered and her face went red, Amber expected her head to just pop off, maybe bounce on the floor and go rolling underneath her massively imposing desk. That would have been nice.
âThere is a reason we have been placed in the top three educational facilities in the great state of Florida,â Cobb continued, âand do you know what that is? Itâs because we run a tight ship.â
She paused for effect, as if what sheâd said needed to be absorbed rather than merely tolerated.
Cobb inclined her head slightly to one side. âMr and Mrs Lamont, I donât know you very well. In previous years, there has been no reason to summon you here. In previous years, Amberâs behaviour has been perfectly adequate. But your daughter has been sent to my office three times in the past month for altercations with other students. Three times. That is, Iâm sure youâll agree, beyond the pale. Speaking plainly, as I feel I must, her behaviour this semester has worsened to such a degree that I am, regrettably, forced to wonder if there might have been some drastic change in her home circumstances.â
Amberâs mother nodded sympathetically. âHow terrible for you.â
Her parents were, as expected, completely calm in the face of overwhelming stupidity. That specific type of calm â detached, patient but at-times-veering-into-condescension â was pretty much their default setting. Amber was used to it. Cobb was not.
Betty Lamont sat in her chair with perfect posture and perfect hair, dressed smartly yet demurely. Bill Lamont sat with his legs crossed, hands resting on the understated buckle of his Italian belt, his fingers intertwined and his shoes gleaming. Both of them good-looking people, tall, healthy and trim. Amber had more in common with Mrs Cobb than she did with her own parents â Cobb could, in fact, have been Amber in forty yearsâ time, if she never found the discipline to go on that diet sheâd been promising herself. The only thing she seemed to have inherited from her folksâ combined gene pool was her brown hair. Sometimes Amber let herself wonder where it all went wrong with her â but she didnât ponder that mystery for very long. Such pondering led to the cold and darker places of her mind.