She walked across the fields, insubstantial as the mist that began to spread, a shallow sea, over the bare, black ground. Her white gown was filthy, as were her naked feet. Her hair was a tangle of oily gold around a face bright with madness.
Fear blew through her like a sudden, vicious storm. But she planted her feet. She'd ride it out.
The light had gone out of the day. Heavy clouds rolled over the sky, smothering the blue with black, a black tinged with violent green.
There was a laugh, a wet chortle that screamed across her nerves.
Pity stirred with fear.
Here was the storm, spewing out of the sky, bursting out of the ground, swirling though the fog and into the filthy air.
It clogged her lungs as if she were breathing mud. And she heard the crazed screams through it.
Then the storm stopped as abruptly as it began, and Amelia stood in the calm. Sad and pale in her grey dress.
You're mine. My blood. My bone. Out of my womb, out of my heart, Stolen, ripped away. Find me. I'm so lost.
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"I've done just about all I can do here. I could spend months more on your family history, filling in details, moving back generations. I plan to do just that. But regarding the purpose for which you hired me, I'm at an impasse. She wasn't family, Roz. Not a Harper. Not by birth, not by marriage."
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