Arcane Rising: The Darkland Druids - Book One, R Nicole [suggested reading TXT] 📗

wasn’t handsome Owen Murray, the police detective who I was supposed to trust. It was a greyish-skinned man with black eyes and…pointed teeth.

“You’re—” The words died in my mouth as the vision faded. I blinked once more and Owen’s human face was the one glaring at me.

He grabbed my arm and dragged me against his body with a snarl, his fingers biting into my skin.

“Owen, what are you doing?” I demanded, pulling against his grasp. “Let me go.”

“I’ve got no patience for this pathetic game,” he rasped. “You’re coming with me.”

Terror threatened to overwhelm me like it had the night before, but I wasn’t going to let it turn me into a useless lump this time. I opened my mouth to scream, but I wasn’t prepared for the word that came out of it.

“Rory!” I screeched, digging my heels into the grass, pulling against Owen’s grasp with everything I had. “Rory!”

A black blur shot across the hill and an enormous German Shepard leapt into the air towards Owen, its jaws snapping. It latched onto his arm and shook, dislodging the hand holding my arm.

I fell, landing hard on my arse as Owen shouted and fought the dog. His face began to change, flickering wildly between human and monster, and I scrambled backwards, trying to get away.

Hands hooked underneath my arms and I was hauled to my feet. Spinning, I lashed out only for Rory to catch my forearm before my fist could collide with his face.

“It’s only me,” he said. “Hold your horses, lass.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and drew me away from Owen.

The dog yelped as the detective kicked it in the ribs and broke free. He turned towards us, his eyes black and full of a palpable rage that crackled across the hill.

“Elspeth…” Rory grasped my hand and began to back away, “now would be the perfect time to run.”

6

My heart felt like it was going to burst as Rory and I ran from Calton Hill.

Behind us, I could hear Owen’s boots thunder against the stone path in pursuit, the dog nowhere to be see.

We burst out onto the footpath, almost colliding with a cluster of pedestrians. Rory guided me to the right, back towards the archives and the city centre.

I threw a glance over my shoulder and caught sight of Owen shoving his way through a group of tourists waiting outside a hotel.

That’s why I wasn’t looking when Rory abruptly dragged me across the road…right into the path of a double decker bus.

I screamed, but the driver never saw us as Rory pulled me up onto the footpath, the wall of metal and glass brushing past as it continued its route like we hadn’t been there at all. The people waiting at the pedestrian crossing hadn’t noticed, either.

Rory wasn’t waiting around to see if we’d lost Owen. He tugged my hand and we ran towards the North Bridge, weaving between the throng of people walking to and from the Old Town.

“Why can’t anyone see us?” I called after him.

“We’re surrounded by an illusion,” he replied. “I’ll explain it all later, okay?” If there was going to be a later.

We slowed to a fast walk and I almost had to break into a jog to keep up with Rory’s long stride.

What was I doing? This wasn’t me. I was shy and awkward to the extreme. Why would they want someone like me?

“Ach, he’s right behind us,” Rory hissed. I threw a glance over my shoulder, but he tugged my arm. “Don’t look back. Just keep going.”

“Why aren’t we running? This seems like a running moment.”

“There’s too many people. We risk revealing ourselves to the humans. If we have a chance to get away without fighting, I’m going to take it.”

“Fighting?”

“Aye.”

I wasn’t in a position to challenge his assessment, so I followed him across the bridge.

Historic buildings and the remnants of ancient volcanoes dominated the view from both sides, and on any other day, I would have paused to take it all in, but I was aware of the monster following in our footsteps.

On the other side of the bridge, the Scotsman Hotel reared up on the right and various shops dominated the ground floor of the Hilton Hotel on the left. The façades were all greyish brown, the stone discoloured from age and pollution. A few copper domes and roofs dotted here and there, the glossy orange long oxidised into green.

Rory led me onto the Royal Mile just as the rain began to change from an annoying mist into fully formed droplets.

We weaved past walking tour groups who were regaled with ghost stories and tales of the filthy and overpopulated state the city used to endure in the sixteenth century. Rory jostled past slow walkers and groups of people milling about outside souvenir shops.

His grip tightened on my hand. “Down here.”

We slipped into one of the closes that ran off the main road. I’d read in Mrs. Campbell’s information display folder that the closes used to be gated alleyways which led to private property, but as the city grew and modernised, they were left open as thoroughfares for foot traffic.

This one made a sharp decline down the northern side of the hill the Old Town sat on—the steep grade broken up by a few sporadic sets of stairs.

About halfway down the hill, Rory pulled me into an alcove that was barely big enough for the both of us, let alone big enough to conceal our presence from Owen…or whatever he was.

We were under the eave of a door that looked like it hadn’t seen any use for a long time. Rory pressed his palms on either side of the jamb, shielding me with his body. The air shimmered behind him and I blinked, wondering if he’d just used his powers to hide us.

I didn’t know why, but I trusted him. When Owen grabbed me, it was Rory who I called to for help. That had to mean something.

I’d barely had enough time to catch