Dark Visions: The Strange Power; The Possessed; The Passion. Home · Dark Author: L.J. Smith Smith, L J - Dark Visions 1 - The Strange Power e-txt. The Strange Power Dark Visions 1 Lj Smith - [Free] The Strange Power Sun, 07 Apr GMT (PDF) Conspectus Volume 9 May | Timothy. Dark Visions has 4 entries in the series. (). cover image of Dark Visions BIND-UP. Dark Visions BIND-UP. Dark Visions (Series). L.J. Smith Author ().

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Get Free Read & Download Files Dark Visions Lj Smith PDF. DARK VISIONS LJ SMITH. Download: Dark Visions Lj Smith. DARK VISIONS LJ SMITH - In this. Dark Visions by L.J. Smith - GIFTED AND CURSED Kaitlyn Fairchild has always felt like an outsider in her small hometown. Her haunting eyes and prophetic. full ebook pdf file size mb past serve or repair your product, and we wish it can dark visions lj smith pdf pdf download - edpay - possessed (dark visions).

Her haunting eyes and prophetic drawings have earned her a reputation as a witch. But Kait's not a witch: She's a psychic. Tired of being shunned, Kait accepts an invitation to attend the Zetes Institute, where she can have a fresh start and study with other psychic teens. Learning to hone her abilities with four other gifted students, Kait discovers the intensity of her power -- and the joy of having true friends. But those friendships quickly become complicated when Kait finds herself torn between two irresistible guys. Rob is kind and athletic, and heals people with his good energy. Gabriel is aggressive and mysterious, a telepath concealing his true nature as a psychic vampire, feeding off of others' life energy. Together, Rob and Gabriel's opposing forces threaten the group's stability. Then one of the experiments traps the five teens in a psychic link. A link that threatens their sanity and their lives. And Kaitlyn must decide whom to trust No matter how beautiful she is. That was the basic problem. She was sitting in history class, listening to Marcy Huang and Pam Sasseen plan a party for that weekend. Kait was listening, pretending not to listen, and fiercely wishing she could get away.

Kait was listening, pretending not to listen, and fiercely wishing she could get away. She was full of contradictory feelings. She hated Pam and Marcy, and wanted them to die, or at least to have some gory accident that left them utterly broken and defeated and miserable. At the same time there was a terrible longing inside her.

No one ever invited the witch; no one thought that Kaitlyn, the lovely, spooky girl with the strange eyes, would want to go.

This is my last year. One semester to go. But that was the other problem, of course. In a little town like Thoroughfare she was bound to see them, and their parents, every day for the next year. And the year after that, and the year after that. There was no escape. If she could have gone away to college, it might have been different. Dad needed her. It was junior college or nothing. The years stretched out in front of Kaitlyn, bleak as the Ohio winter outside the window, filled with endless cold classrooms.

Endless exclusion.

Dark Visions

Endless aching and wishing that she were a witch so she could put the most hideous, painful, debilitating curse on all of them. All the while she was thinking, she was doodling.

A spiderweb. But what was strange was what was underneath the web, so close it was almost touching. A pair of eyes. Wide, round, heavy-lashed eyes.

Bambi eyes. The eyes of a child. As Kaitlyn stared at it, she suddenly felt dizzy, as if she were falling. As if the picture were opening to let her in. It was a horrible sensation—and a familiar one.

Dark Visions Series

It happened every time she drew one of those pictures, the kind they called her a witch for. The kind that came true. She pulled herself back with a jerk. There was a sick, sinking feeling inside her. Oh, please, no, she thought.

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Not today—and not here, not at school. Please let it be just a doodle. But she could feel her body bracing, ignoring her mind, going ice-cold in order to meet what was coming. A child. But what child? Staring at the space under the eyes, Kait felt a tugging, almost a twitch, in her hand.

Her fingers telling her the shape that needed to go there.

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Little half circle, with smaller curves at the edges. A snub nose. Large circle, filled in solid. A mouth, open in fear or surprise or pain. Big curve to indicate a round chin. She let out her breath. That was all. The child in the picture must be a girl, with all that hair. Wavy hair. A pretty little girl with wavy hair and a spiderweb on top of her face. Something was going to happen, involving a child and a spider. But where—and to what child? And when? Next week? Next year? It never was.

Her drawings were always accurate—they always, always came true. But not in time. Right now, what could she do? But that was the other problem, of course.

In a little town like Thoroughfare she was bound to see them, and their parents, every day for the next year. And the year after that, and the year after that.

There was no escape. If she could have gone away to college, it might have been different. Dad needed her. It was junior college or nothing. The years stretched out in front of Kaitlyn, bleak as the Ohio winter outside the window, filled with endless cold classrooms.

Endless exclusion. Endless aching and wishing that she were a witch so she could put the most hideous, painful, debilitating curse on all of them.

All the while she was thinking, she was doodling. A spiderweb. But what was strange was what was underneath the web, so close it was almost touching. A pair of eyes. Wide, round, heavy-lashed eyes.

Bambi eyes. The eyes of a child. As Kaitlyn stared at it, she suddenly felt dizzy, as if she were falling. As if the picture were opening to let her in. It was a horrible sensation—and a familiar one. It happened every time she drew one of those pictures, the kind they called her a witch for.

The kind that came true. She pulled herself back with a jerk. There was a sick, sinking feeling inside her. Oh, please, no, she thought. Not today—and not here, not at school. Please let it be just a doodle.

But she could feel her body bracing, ignoring her mind, going ice-cold in order to meet what was coming. A child. But what child?

Staring at the space under the eyes, Kait felt a tugging, almost a twitch, in her hand. Her fingers telling her the shape that needed to go there. Little half circle, with smaller curves at the edges.

A snub nose. Large circle, filled in solid. A mouth, open in fear or surprise or pain. Big curve to indicate a round chin. She let out her breath. That was all. The child in the picture must be a girl, with all that hair.

Wavy hair. A pretty little girl with wavy hair and a spiderweb on top of her face. Something was going to happen, involving a child and a spider. But where—and to what child? And when?

Next week? Next year? It never was. Her drawings were always accurate—they always, always came true. But not in time. Right now, what could she do? Run through town with a megaphone telling all kids to beware of spiders? Go down to the elementary school looking for girls with wavy hair? As if Kaitlyn brought on the things she drew. As if she made them happen instead of just predicting them.

The lines of the picture were getting crooked. Kaitlyn blinked to straighten them. Not once, not since her mother had died when Kait was eight. Since then, Kait had learned how to make the tears go inside. There was a disturbance at the front of the room. Chris Barnable, a boy who worked sixth period as a student aide, had brought a piece of pink paper.

A call slip. Kaitlyn watched Mr. Flynn take it, read it, then look mildly at the class, wrinkling his nose to push his glasses back up.

She kept her back very straight, her head very high, as she walked up the aisle to take the slip. She went out the door with Chris. In trouble again, yes, she thought as she walked down the stairs to the main office. What did they have on her this time? Whenever it got too bad, she went down Piqua Road to where the farms were, and drew. Nobody bothered her there.

He was an okay-looking guy: Boys—boys were no good.