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

asked. “The Merlin from the stories about Camelot?”

Rory nodded. “It was a real place, in another world.”

I shivered, his story caused goosebumps to prickle over my exposed skin. Was he telling me the truth? I wasn’t sure I could deny the things he was telling me anymore. For better or worse, I believed him.

“To escape,” he continued, “Merlin led our people through the Darklands, the reality surrounding Thríbhís Mhór. It was a dangerous journey and our people became separated. The only way we could survive the nightmarish landscape was to open a portal to another reality.” He sighed and looked at the fire. “That’s how we came to this world.”

“Only to be hunted again.” My heart ached and I pressed the heel of my palm against my chest.

“This Earth had its own share of problems,” he added. “Its own wars, its own supernatural creatures, its own version of humanity…and we landed in the middle of another battle. One we were able to stay out of until recently.”

“You talk about it like you were there,” I mused.

“Druids live a long time, but I was born here,” Rory said with a chuckle. “This happened about eight hundred years ago.”

“That long? Why can’t you go home?”

He shrugged. “We don’t know the way.”

“And the Fae? They are the other supernatural race?”

“The Fae have their own complicated story, and not all of them are bad. There are some good ones out there, but they rarely leave Ireland. It’s been that way for thousands of years. They have portals to their realm, but they are now guarded by the Witches. They have their own struggles, too.”

“Witches? First Druids, then Fae, and now Witches?”

Rory snorted. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“I’ll say. I’m still confused.”

“You’ll figure it out. You did manage to use your Colour at least, so that’s a good start.”

Colour. Magical powers. That was who I was? How didn’t I know? Crystals of light had splintered out of my arm—there was no way I was unseeing that.

It was clear I had a lot to learn. Rory could help me figure out what it meant to be a Druid, and maybe his people would know my father…and maybe my mother.

And home—

“My passport,” I said with a groan. “My things are still at Mrs. Campbell’s.” She was such a busybody, it was likely she’d already reported me missing.

“Is a passport really that important?” Rory asked.

“It is if I want to go home.”

“The Chimera know where you were staying,” he told me. “If you go back there, they’ll find you again. No doubt the apartments are being watched, or if ‘Detective’ Owen has gathered his wits, it’s already been cleaned out by the police.”

I hesitated. “How long have I been here?

“Only a night.”

Only? Three days in Edinburgh and I’d been attacked on the street, chased by a Fae, groomed by a crooked detective, stabbed a guy in the chest, and literally exploded. Not to mention the alternate realities, shapeshifting men, and portal-guarding Irish Witches.

“After what you’ve seen here, do you really want to go back to Australia?” Rory asked. “To a normal life?”

“I don’t know what I want to do,” I replied truthfully. “I’ve just had the motherlode of all info-dumps upended on my broken life. I’ve barely had time to grieve my father’s death. In the spirit of transparency, I’ve been avoiding it.”

Rory looked troubled and glanced at the cat. “You can go if that’s what you want, but not until you learn how to protect yourself…and dampen your Colour.”

“What about my things?”

He sighed and stroked the cat’s back. “I’ll go with you. Can’t have you running out of clean pants. It would be a catastrophe.”

8

Turned out, ‘pants’ was the UK’s way of referring to underpants.

Rory’s house—or at least the room he had in a share house with several other Druids, including the dog-man Jaimie—wasn’t far from Mrs. Campbell’s Serviced Apartments. Still, Rory took a slow path down the hill towards Holyrood.

The Mile was bustling with tourists and locals. All the shops were open, spilling warm, inviting light onto the footpath. A bagpiper stood on a corner, dressed in a traditional uniform made up of a kilt, sash, hat, and waistcoat. He played a loud, droning tune that sounded familiar, but I didn’t know what it was called.

“Ach, it’s quiet,” Rory said, oblivious to the jarring sound of the bagpipes. “I expected more fuss after what you did.”

“Should we be out?” I asked, staying close to his side. “I mean, I’d like my stuff, but it can wait.”

“We’re well hidden,” he told me. “If we don’t use any Colours or make direct eye contact with the Fae, then we’re safe enough.”

“But doesn’t your illusion use Colour?”

“Technically yes, but not enough for anyone to notice. For now, we blend in so if any Fae notices us, they can’t tell the difference.”

“Just two humans out for a stroll?”

“See?” He knocked his elbow against my arm. “You’re adjusting to the covert life already.”

In that moment, I realised I liked him. A lot. We barely knew one another, but it didn’t matter. The only other person who I’d ever been able to speak this freely with was Dad.

My heart twisted at the thought of my father. There’d be time for questions and answers later. If he was a Druid, then someone here ought to have known him.

I glanced at Rory and attempted to puzzle him out, but it was impossible. He seemed like the kind of guy to hide his true emotions behind sarcasm and charm, but he’d come through on all of his promises—in a roundabout way. He was one of those rare unicorns who did exactly what they said they were going to do.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked.

“Here comes your hourly existential crisis,” he mused.

“I’m serious.”

He shrugged. “You’re a Druid and Druids help their own.”

“Is it really that simple?” I wondered out loud.

“It’s that simple.”

I decided to take it with a grain of salt—everybody wanted something, even if they said otherwise. Trust for trust, like for like.

“Rory?