Unearthly Things by Michelle Gagnon

Author:Michelle Gagnon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult Fiction
Publisher: Soho Press
Published: 2017-02-19T17:30:55+00:00

Chapter X

In an instant, I was within the chamber. Tongues of flame darted round the bed: the curtains were on fire. In the midst of blaze and vapour, Mr. Rochester lay stretched motionless, in deep sleep.

I fled downstairs, nearly tripping over two kids sharing a joint on the landing. Their protests barely registered. Helen and Daniel finally caught up to me by the front door.

“Jesus, Janie,” Daniel gasped, extending an arm to steady me. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”

“I’m guessing she didn’t say you’d be president someday?” Helen said, but her tone belied the words.

I struggled to breathe; it felt like my lungs had solidified into stone. “It’s . . . I’m . . .”

“Just catch your breath,” Daniel said gently.

“I need some air.” I struggled for the doorknob.

Before I could turn it, the door was thrown open from the other side. I found myself staring at Georgina, who gaped back with an equally shocked expression. Her eyes flitted to Daniel, still clutching my elbow, and her gaze darkened.

“So,” she said coldly. “Guess I’m late to the party.”

“Not now, Georgina,” I muttered, pushing past her. I stopped a few feet away from the stoop, rubbing my arms to try and warm them. The night was cold; a thick mist coated everything. On top of my terror, I was struck by an overwhelming pang of homesickness. I yearned for the familiar smell of close-cut grass, hints of jasmine, and salt on a warm breeze. Blinking back tears, I stared up at the moon. It glowed orange through a veil of fog.

“Here.” Helen draped her jacket around my shoulders.

I gratefully drew it close, the wool scratchy against my skin. “Thanks,” I croaked.

“So are you going to tell us what happened in there?” Daniel asked.

I shook my head, still too unnerved to talk about it. Besides, I must have imagined the girl, right? Just like the lights in the elevator and hallway: all by-products of a hyperactive imagination fueled by lack of sleep.

I was having a hard time convincing myself, though. The girl I’d seen had looked eerily like Nicholas. And how could my brain have come up with that on its own? Plus, the way the fortune-teller had gone all The Exorcist on me . . .

No, I told myself. None of this is real. You just need to forget about it.

The cold was grounding, the sound of a siren in the distance oddly consoling. This was tangible: the city encircling me, my anxious friends hovering by my side. And judging by the expression on Georgina’s face, I had much bigger problems to contend with.

“I’m fine,” I said, fighting the quaver in my voice. “Really. I just want to go home.”

Sleep eluded me that night for longer than usual. Every time I closed my eyes, the ghostly image of the girl snapped into focus. I’d taken care to lock my door from the inside. Tomorrow, I’d see if Daniel could install a better deadbolt to barricade it against whoever kept messing with my stuff.

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