I Belong to the Earth (Unveiled Book 1)

by J. A. Ironside

  When the sun tinged the sky pink, I closed the window. I was shivering but it was entirely natural cold. My eyes felt hot and gritty. I climbed under a heap of blankets on my bed, piling the duvet on top. I sleepily watched the sun rise, staining the sky red.

  Red sky in morning, shepherd's warning.

  A faint, shrilling woke me. I peered blearily at the clock on my night stand. It didn't make sense. It had already been three o'clock. No. Not 3.00 am - —3.00 pm! Crap! I leapt out of bed and wobbled across to the door. The shrilling was coming from downstairs. The phone was ringing. I ran down the stairs, narrowly avoiding a broken leg to go with my broken arm, I was so uncoordinated. I couldn't remember where the phone was for a moment, before heading for the parlour and fumbling the receiver from the cradle.

  "Huh hello?" I sounded uncertain, even to myself. It had been a long time since I'd talked on a phone.

  "Good afternoon, may I speak with Reverend Matthews please?" The woman's voice was unfamiliar.

  "I'm suh sorry he isn't in juh just n-now. C-can I take a muh message?"

  "If you could tell him that Rebecca Darle called, that would be great. He should already have my number, if not he can reach me at the school."

  "Sk-school?"

  "Yes. Is Amy any better? We were worried when we didn't hear anything further?" The question was gently probing.

  "Yuh you're Amy's t-teacher?"

  "Head of year."

  "Ay Amy hasn't b-been at sk-school?"

  "Not since Wednesday. I really do need to speak to your father. Are you Grace or Emily?"

  "Em-hilly. I'll t-tell him you kuh called." I dropped the phone back in its cradle. Amy hadn't been at school. Not for the last few days. So just where had she been? Where was she now?

  I had been so wrapped up in the supernatural I'd forgotten the mundane. Amy bunk off school? She loved school. She'd probably move in if she could. She used to cry when she was little and there was a snow day when the school was closed. I couldn't believe it. It was weirder than anything else that had happened here, and that was saying a lot. Was Amy just playing truant? Or was it something worse?

  I paused outside Dad's study. I thought I heard a whisper of movement inside but there was no answer when I hammered on the door. It was still locked.

  "Y-you kuh can't k-keep hiding, Dad!" I kicked the door hard. Bad idea. Solid oak door, bare foot. Crap that hurt. "Duh Dad! Come out! H-help us! F-for once!" No answer. Fine. I ran for the stairs. I wouldn't normally do this but since I didn't have a clue where Amy was I tried her room. The door creaked open before I touched it. My scalp prickled. The room was freezing. The kind of cold that sinks in bone deep. It was also a mess. Not ‘teenager messy’ but ‘a hurricane blew through here’ messy. Not like Amy. She was a total neat freak. There were scraps of paper everywhere.

  I picked one up. It looked familiar... like a newspaper cutting. I realised what it was before I saw the mashed shoe box thrown into the corner. Mrs Cranford's carefully collected newspaper cuttings of Haze's victims. I hadn’t even realized the box was missing. The cuttings were torn and crumpled, and some had writing scrawled on them in a childish, clumsy hand. Red pen.

  Hate her. HATE HER! Why should she have him?

  I stared at it in disbelief. It wasn’t Amy’s neat, small script.

  And another.

  Deserves to die! Has to die! Then he'll notice me

  And another: says he's toying with me. We shall see

  My heart thudded, fast and frantic. I didn’t know how yet but Amy was part of the Pattern too.

  Why hadn't I seen it? Everyone else was. Why did I assume she was safe? It was my fault. If I had told Amy everything and been less concerned about not frightening her, keeping her safe… I sank blindly on to her bed. By not telling her I'd made her weak. How were you meant to defend yourself against a danger if you didn't know it was there?

  And maybe… maybe my intentions weren't so noble. It had hurt when Amy said it, but she was right, as she so often was. I hadn't trusted anyone since the accident. I hadn't trusted Amy to believe me. I hadn't trusted her to trust me.

  I could lose her. I could lose her and Grace both.

  The thought had me jumping to my feet. My heel kicked against something under the bed. Something hard. With a strange sense of premonition, I lifted the duvet draped over the side of the bed. There was something oblong there. Something bound in black leather. I pulled Mum's missing book from under the bed with a strangled cry.

  Wuthering Heights

  I sounded out the title. A deep score was slashed in the leather across the front cover. Something sharp did that. I shivered. The tip of my little finger almost fitted into the groove. This was done in rage. I flicked through the book. Not reading. Looking for the clue. The one I was sure Mum left for me. I went through it twice. Three times. Nothing. Or nothing I had time to comb through a nineteenth century novel for. A thread of rosemary and violet scent wafted past me and out of the door. Picking up the book I followed. It led me to Grace's room and stopped.

  A claw of dread clutched my guts and gave them a twist. Even with the door shut the room felt empty. There was no one in there. I opened the door anyway, hoping against hope... Grace was gone. While I was hatching stupid plans for catching ghosts and over-sleeping, my sisters were taken away.

  Not by the Jaws of Life this time.

  Oh no. Not life.