Buried Fire by Jonathan Stroud Read Free Book Online Page A

church or something."
    "Not that there's any evidence they went inside the church at all," he continued, as Tom offered no comment. "Perhaps it's just some stunt, though it seems a pretty crazy one to me. Are you all right, Reverend?"
    Tom was staring out in front of him, looking at the hole in the earth. Slowly, Joe Vernon followed his gaze, across the mound of earth to the corner of the hole closest to the yew tree, where the branches spanned out over the diggings. The neat squared corner of Mr Purdew's trench was gone. Soil had been ripped away from the side of the hole and had fallen to the bottom where the cross had lain. It was as if a huge bite had been taken from the earth, exposing the tangled roots of the yew tree which jutted out like a chaos of ligaments or veins. PC Vernon walked across to the lip and looked down.
    "Nothing there," he remarked.
    "I bet there isn't," said Tom, so quietly that the policeman failed to hear. "I bet there isn't."
    "There's been a lot of activity on this side of the trench," said PC Vernon. "Sure this wasn't done by Purdew's boys?"
    Tom dumbly shook his head.
    "In that case," the constable went on, "we'll have to add this to our list of mysteries. I wonder what they were after."
    Tom felt sick.
    Then Joe Vernon sniffed, and bent his head closer to the trench. "Another thing I can't understand," he said, "is why they should bother to burn it."
    Wordlessly, Tom came to stand by his side. The roots of the tree which protruded from the ground had been scorched and twisted by an intense heat, and the soil exposed by the night's digging was blackened and blistered with the corruscating touch of fire.

9
    "How are you, Mike?" Stephen stood at the end of the bed, holding a tray. "I've brought orange juice, water and sweet weak tea. A choice fit for a king."
    Michael was sitting up in bed, plumped up against pillows, with a dressing-gown draped over his shoulders. Sarah had pulled open the curtain furthest from the invalid, and he sat in the dark half of the room. He waved a hand regally.
    "I might try the water. Not the juice. My tongue's raw." His voice was thick and clotted, and when he stuck his tongue out at his brother it was an angry red, and scored here and there with thin white sores.
    "Your tongue is foul."
    "Thanks. Think I'll ever kiss a girl again?"
    "Again?"
    Michael gingerly took a sip of water. Stephen passed to the window and looked out. Sarah was walking down the garden in bare feet, carrying peelings to the compost heap. There were coils of mist hanging in the shaded meadows beyond the garden, and behind the cold hump of the Wirrim, the early sun burnished the sky. Another hot one.
    "I'm pleased to see you can open your eyes this morning—" Stephen said. Sarah was tapping the box empty over the compost heap, stretching out awkwardly with one foot raised to balance her. "—without screaming like a bloody pig." He felt his anger beat hot against the pane.
    "Stephen—"
    "That was quite a performance you put on last night. You managed to screw us all up before you went to bed. Well, I can tell you pal, that after you were tucked up nice and cosy, Sarah cried for – oh just a couple of hours, and had a blazing row with Tom, over the little matter of whether or not you habitually took drugs."
    "Stephen, you know that's crap—"
    "Do I? Last night I was ready to kill Tom for his suspicious little puritan mind. But this morning – well, sorry mate, but I'm not so sure. Did you see Sarah's face this morning when she came in to see you? Or did you not dare open your eyes?"
    "I saw it."
    "Did you? Well so did I. And I'll tell you what I read there, shall I? For all that she fought your corner, and sent Tom away with a flea in his ear – in the end, Michael, she's being worn down by sheer lack of alternatives. And this morning I feel the same way."
    He had turned now, and was facing his brother. Michael's face was hidden by shadow.
    "So tell me," said Stephen, "what else is there to