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

“So you really don’t know anything?” He raised his eyebrows. “Grandparents? Aunts? Uncles?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

If he thought it was strange, he didn’t let it show on his face. “So, you want to find out more about your family tree?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to.” It was beginning to feel like something was stopping me. Dad never talked about his past, and now it seemed Scotland itself was trying its hardest to join the party. “I was hoping to find out something—anything—but it seems like Scotland has a grudge against me.”

Owen laughed and I scowled up at him. For a guy I’d just met—and a cop to boot—he wasn’t making a good impression right now.

“You’re laughing at me?”

“Don’t fash yourself, Elspeth,” he said. “It’s nothing personal.”

It sure felt like it.

“Are you busy now?” he added.

I gave him some serious side-eye. “Not really…”

“See up there?” He pointed to a hill that sprung up a few blocks away. It was full of greenery and had a tower of some kind built at the top. Behind it, I could see the top of some large Greek columns. “That’s Calton Hill. There’s a wee monument on top and a great view of the city. Would you like to walk up there with me?”

I frowned. “Well…”

“C’mon,” he said, “I’m a detective. What am I going to do?”

I glanced at the archives. “I guess I don’t have anywhere to be.” It didn’t take much for me to cave.

Owen and I walked along the street a few blocks, then he led me up some stairs—what was with the stairs in this place?—and through some thick greenery. We passed a sign that read, Welcome to Calton Hill, and by the time we reached the top, I thought I was going to die. My lungs burned, giving away how unfit I actually was. Luckily for Owen, he was gracious enough not to make fun of me this time.

Before us was a large forecourt with a domed building, the tower I’d seen from below, and an unfinished copy of the Athens Acropolis. Literally.

Eight Greek columns were erected on one side, and two at either end. They seemed to have forgotten to finish it or maybe they had run out of money. It stood out in the open, shadowed against the sky, a mere glimpse at what it might have looked like if it’d been completed.

Owen led me across the forecourt to the side of the hill overlooking the newer part of Edinburgh. The city stretched for miles, reaching a large stretch of water, then continued to the horizon.

“See all that water? That’s the Firth of Forth,” Owen explained. “There are four main bridges. The Forth Bridge, Forth Road Bridge, Kincardine Bridge, and the Clackmannanshire Bridge. The Forth Bridge is the big red one, a suspension bridge, but you can’t really see it from here.” He grasped my shoulders and turned me towards the bustling city centre. “That’s York Place down there—it’s one of the main roads through the city centre. There’s a nice wee art gallery there.”

The wind whipped around us, buffeting my hair in all directions. I scraped it away and followed his gaze, trying to spot all the places he’d pointed out.

“What’s the tower behind us?” I asked.

“That’s the Nelson Monument,” Owen replied. “It’s a memorial for Nelson’s win at the Battle of Trafalgar during the Napoleonic Wars.”

“There’s a lot of monuments to British people,” I mused.

“Ach, don’t remind us,” he said with a chuckle.

Edinburgh was full of so much history, and I knew I’d barely begun to scratch the surface. Royalty like Mary Queen of Scots and many other Stuart Kings. Writers and poets like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Robert Burns, and Sir Walter Scott. Artists, scientists, doctors, and so many other historical figures had called this place home.

My head spun and I turned away from the view just as a shaggy little dog ran up to us and wagged its tail. It was a wiry scrap of a thing, all black and grey with sharp brown eyes. He had no collar and no one seemed to be calling out.

I knelt down and held out my hand, palm up. “Hey, buddy,” I murmured, scratching behind his ears. “Where are your people, huh?”

“Careful, I wouldn’t touch it,” Owen said above me.

I waved him off. “It’s fine. He’s friendly, see?”

Abruptly, the dog yapped and took off, bounding across the hill like a bat out of hell. I rose, bewildered at its sudden flight.

“There’s been a problem with strays,” Owen said, taking out his mobile phone. “I should call someone about it. Can’t have the thing bothering people.”

“Oh no, don’t do that,” I said, craning my neck to see where it’d gone. “It could belong to someone and it’s just lost.”

The detective snorted and his phone rang. “Seriously?” He took the call and spoke to whoever was on the other end in a clipped tone.

I turned away, more to hide the uneasiness I felt at the change in his voice more than to give him some privacy.

“Ach, I’ve been called into the station,” he grumbled, stepping around so he could catch my eye. “Are you fine to make it back on your own?”

I nodded and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah, I remember the way.”

He frowned and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Sorry to run, lass, but it’s an emergency.”

“It’s your job, I understand. Thanks for the tour.”

Owen smiled, the uneasiness between us fading. “You’re welcome.”

I lingered on top of the hill as he strode away, then jogged down the stairs, and disappeared around the corner. It was really nice of him to show me around a little, but his mood seemed to flip in an instant.

Maybe I was making it too much of a thing. Yeah, maybe.

Smiling to myself, I wandered towards the tower—the Nelson Monument—and found a hidden alcove that looked over the southern part of the city. Now I was out of the wind, I combed