I Belong to the Earth (Unveiled Book 1)

by J. A. Ironside

  "Were you guys fighting again?" Amy hovered at the top of the stairs, awkward and unsure.

  "Nuh no, Amy. A-apparently n-not." I shrugged and tried to smile. "Suh so how was your f-first day?"

  Amy pulled a face. "They made fun of how I speak."

  "Wuh what? Why?" I said, bewildered.

  "They said I sound 'posh'." Amy scowled. "Do I sound posh to you?"

  I snickered. "You d-don't have a Yuh Yorkshire accent. They'll g-get used to it."

  "Really." Amy said, flat and sceptical. "No one would believe I was in year eight either."

  "I'm s-sorry Amy. Wuh when they nuh know you better it w-won't be s-so bad." I grimaced in sympathy. I of all people knew what it was like to not fit in.

  "S'pose," she grumbled. Amy really looked at me for the first time. Her eyebrows rose in alarm. "What the hell happened? You look…Are those leaves in your hair?"

  "I w-went for a wuh walk. Fuh fell d-down. St-stepped in a str-str-str…brook. W-wasted d-day in the end." I shrugged. Understatement of the century. "M-met someone though." I offered this tidbit as a distraction.

  "Really?! Tell me! Tell me! Where did you meet him? It was a ‘him’, right?" Amy took the bait.

  "Duh don't you have homework?"

  "Well…."

  "Luh look, I have to shower and practise for at l-least an hour."

  "Oh, come on! You shower, I'll make some tea and you can tell me everything. Then you can practise and I'll do my homework. Pleeease?" Amy eyes were wide and hopeful. Well my distraction worked. I rolled my eyes.

  "F-fine. But it's not that exciting."

  "I'll put the kettle on." Amy tore down the stairs, racing right through the cold spot. I bit my lower lip and headed for the bathroom.

  A horrifying amount of dirt and small twigs washed out of my hair. There was no way Ciarán could have really meant it when he said wanted to meet up with me. Maybe he was just a flirt by nature. Or worse, he thought I'd been in need of help and hadn't wanted to leave me alone. How embarrassing.

  It was true though - I had needed help. I’d been in the middle of a fairly major melt down. I was certain that wasn't at all appealing to a boy. Not that I was in the market for a boyfriend or anything. Between the man in the kitchen and the watcher on the moor, not to mention Haze, I had quite enough men in my life to be going on with. It just so happened that they were all Dead. Or evil. Or both.

  I wrapped a towel around my now clean hair and stepped out of the shower. Belting my dressing gown, I felt a chill breeze move past me. Completely out of place in the steamy bathroom. That's when I saw the writing. A supple, cursive script in the condensation of the mirror. A flare of anger heated my chest.

  "I kuh can't bloody well r-read it, you stupid d-dead idiots!" I wanted to smash the mirror. I had had enough. Why wouldn't they leave me alone? Fingers tightening painfully in the terry cloth of my robe, I forced the anger back. Two words on the mirror. The first one began with a 'W'. I swiped them away with my sleeve.

  "J-just tell me!" My breath hitched in my throat. "St-stop opening w-windows and muh moving books. I don't nuh know what any of that m-means!" Books. For a moment something was almost within my grasp. Something to do with the cold girl. The writing I'd wiped away —had I seen that before somewhere? That scent. Rosemary and violets. Mum's shampoo. But Mum wasn’t be here. She'd never come back…Never…

  "Mum?" I felt stupid but so hopeful. Had it been Mum's writing? "Mum?" No answer. Had I really expected one?

  The scent was fading. Wish fulfilment. This was insane. Something else was playing with me. "Fuh Fine!" I snapped and yanked open the bathroom door. A flash of brown in the mirror caught at the corner of my eye. I looked again but the mirror was empty. I slammed the door shut behind me.