Arcane Rising: The Darkland Druids - Book One by R Nicole (scary books to read .txt) 📕

faster than my eyes could follow, but it was enough to snap me back into reality. The reality where I was being attacked by monsters in a misty graveyard.

I fled through the kirkyard, passing underneath the arch, desperately searching for the church where I’d seen the light on inside. Mist swirled around my ankles as I ran, but all I found were more tombs.

Stone skeletons and menacing angels stood silent in the gloom, fuelling the terror in my heart. Skidding to a stop, I turned around, searching for a way out of my nightmare.

The mist had swallowed the city and the sounds of the men…and the dog. It’d been a huge thing, like a German Shepard, only all black. No wonder I hadn’t seen it.

But that man… His teeth… His eyes.

Spotting the gate through the mist, I took off again, crossing the grass. It was muddy and I almost slipped on my arse, but I made it without falling. My fear began to ease as the city appeared.

A car whooshed by on the narrow road, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. No one else was around, but there had to be people in the houses. I fumbled in my bag, wondering what the emergency number for the police was in Scotland.

“Where are you going?”

The sound of a male voice caused me to spin and I came face to face with the second man—the one with the dog.

Before I could react, he’d grabbed my arm and nearly pulled me off my feet.

“Let me go!” I cried as he began to drag me towards a narrow lane.

First him and his dog were saving me from whatever that other guy was, and now he was trying to kidnap me? I didn’t have a clue what was going on. It was a jet-lag-induced psychosis brought about by my repressed grief over my dad’s death. It wasn’t right not to cry when your only parent died. This was my punishment, right?

“Don’t fash yourself,” the man said. “I’m only trying to help.”

“By dragging me into the alley so you can—” I choked on my words and began to panic. I didn’t come all this way only to be kidnapped, assaulted, and murdered. There was no way in hell I was going to become another number.

“Who are you?” he asked. “Where did you come from?”

“Your worst nightmares, creep!” I shouted.

With a cry of rage, I swung my fist at the man’s face, startling him enough so I could stamp my boot on his foot. He yelped in surprise and his grip on my arm loosened. I wrenched myself free and took off, sprinting down the road with energy I never knew I had.

And I didn’t look back.

3

I didn’t know how long I’d been running before I saw a police station up ahead.

Why was it so hard to find a cop shop in this city? Budget cuts, I thought. It’s always budget cuts.

I hurtled through the front door and slapped my palms down onto the counter, startling the young man at the desk. He spilled his coffee, the brown liquid dripping onto his trousers.

“Christ Almighty,” he exclaimed in a thick accent. “Will ye watch the door, lass!”

“I’d like to report a crime,” I declared between heaving breaths. “Someone just tried to kidnap me.”

“Attempted kidnapping, ye say?” He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Please take a seat.”

My mouth dropped open. “Take a seat?”

“Yes,” he said, brushing at the coffee stain on his trousers. “Take. A. Seat.”

Behind the partition, a man rolled a chair across the room and leaned back so he could see me. He seemed to be in his early thirties, lean and muscular, and dressed in a navy suit with an off-white shirt and loosened black tie. He smoothed his palm through his close-cropped hair and smiled at me.

“Don’t fash yourself, lass,” he said. “I’ll hear your report.”

The officer at the window looked taken aback. “But—”

“I said, I’ll listen to the lass’ report, constable,” he snapped. “Now bugger off and get yourself a stale doughnut to go with that shite you call coffee.”

The constable scowled and scurried away from the desk, cursing under his breath as he disappeared through the mostly empty offices.

“I apologise for my colleague’s briskness,” the man said, standing and moving towards the counter. “There’s a reason some people are assigned desk jobs.”

I’ll say.

“Detective Murray,” he added, holding out his hand. “And you are?”

“Elspeth Quarrie,” I replied, shaking his hand. “I, uh…” His grasp was firm and confident—everything I wasn’t—and I flushed.

“You look like you’ve had quite the fright, lass. Can I get you something warm to drink?”

“No, I…” I sighed and nodded. “Yeah. That would be great.”

“Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea.”

The detective smiled and rounded the front counter. “Let’s go into one of the interview rooms, hey? It’s warmer and a little more private.”

He ushered me down the hall into a back room. Inside, it looked just like interview rooms did on TV. There was a stainless-steel table bolted to the floor with two chairs on either side and a mirror covered one end of the room, which was likely two-way mirror. A surveillance camera was also built into one of the corners, where it was out of reach by the unfortunate interviewee.

There was nothing else in here for obvious reasons.

“Have a seat and I’ll be back in a moment,” Detective Murray said. “The chairs are quite cold, I’m afraid.”

“Oh…” I blinked, and he flashed a smile before he left to fetch my tea.

I sat on the chair, frowning when I found it to be ice cold. The chill spread through my arse cheeks and I snorted. A brilliant end to a brilliant day of disasters. First the airport was on the fritz, then…

Oh hell, what was I doing here?

How was I meant to tell the police I’d been grabbed in a dark, misty graveyard by a man with pointy teeth and black eyes? And that was only the half of it. They’d think I was crazy, send me to a hospital for