Under the Altswood Sky (The Altswood Saga #2)

Chapter 7 - Sleep

Chapter 7 - Sleep

I was startled awake by the sound of frenzied knocking on the front door, drop-kicked from the dream world into reality. Dawn had only just broken as I bolted upright, blinking rapidly to gather my bearings in the hazy light. The digital clock on my bedside table clicked to 6:34AM.

I collapsed back onto my pillow, groaning. "It's too early for this."

The knocking stopped.

I sat up again, listening. This time, all my senses were pricked at the ready.

There were no retreating footsteps, which immediately weirded me out. In my room, I could hear every noise that was being made along the driveway and to the front door. Why couldn't I hear anyone walking away?

"What the hell are they doing?" I muttered to myself. "Standing by the door?"

I got out of bed quickly, keeping my ears perked for the sound of gravel scattering on the driveway. On tip-toes, I left my bedroom and crept down the hallway—Dad's bedroom door still closed and snoring from within—sidling into the dim lounge. I dropped to a crouch there, still listening.

Nothing.

Making up my mind, I marched to the front door, yanking it open so hard that the frame collided with the interior wall and shook at the hinges. I was half-expecting to see a person looming there, my mouth already opening to demand an explanation.

But there was no one at my doorway. Only an undisturbed scene: birds flitting in the trees and a cool, salty breeze.

Then I looked down.

"What—"

A single flower sat on my doormat. Its fragile, white petals drooped at the ends, darkening the tips to an almost imperceptible pale purple. Before I had even picked it up and lifted it to my nose, its sweet scent was already wafting up.

"Hello?" I called out, setting the stalk down.

Only the southerly wind answered, curling around my neck in greeting.

I shoved on a pair of shoes, stomping down the front steps. It wasn't warm enough to be walking around yet, but the horizon was gleaming gold and I could hear the neighbours talking in their garden. I determined it would probably be safe to take a look around in case someone had gotten the wrong house.

"Hey, Mrs. Nguyen," I called, peering over the low fence.

The old woman turned around, pulling up her brimmed hat. "Oh, hello, Luca." She turned off her watering hose. "How are you today?"

I squinted up against the rising sun, grimacing. "Tired, mostly. Did you see anyone go up my driveway a few minutes ago?"

Mrs. Nguyen frowned. "Not that I could see. I've been out here for a while now."

"That's weird," I sighed. "I was woken up by some really loud knocking."

"A tourist, perhaps?" Mrs. Nguyen suggested. She bent over, rolling up the hose. "Although there are a lot of strange disturbances at your household. Did you sort out where that rabid dog came from?"

"Rabid dog?" I repeated, before realising she meant the barking in our backyard during the production. Dad had been so busy trying to make sure Steven and Zane didn't have mortal wounds before sending them into the arms of their panicked parents that it had completely slipped his priority list.

"It was a stray," I said, thinking I heard something like that mentioned in the calls he received. "Apparently we have those now with the incoming hordes of tourists."