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

it’s only fair you stop calling me detective and call me Owen.”

I nodded a little awkwardly.

“Well, we’ll keep an eye out for the perpetrators,” he told me. “If we find anything, I’ll let you know, and if there’s anything you need…”

It took me a moment to realise he was offering services above and beyond what normal cops provided. I felt my cheeks heat and I didn’t know where to look. He was handsome, but my lack of romantic experience was totally showing all over my face. I mean, it wasn’t like I was a virgin or anything; I just didn’t know why anyone would be interested in a mousy woman like me. Oh, shut up, Elspeth.

“Oh, uh…” I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“Well, here’s my number.” He handed me a white business card emblazoned with the Scottish police logo. “If you need anything, please call. It’s no trouble.”

Owen flashed me another smile and strode back to his car. I watched as he drove away, the business card still clutched in-between my fingers like it was going to self-destruct in T-minus ten seconds.

A dot of rain hit my nose and I rubbed it away. Sighing, I pocketed the card and went inside. At least my nerves about the strange happenings in the kirkyard were calmed, but they’d been replaced with a whole other set of unknowns. Either that, or I was overthinking things.

The moment I stepped into the building, Mrs. Campbell’s door opened and she came charging out.

“Was that a policeman I saw you with?” She pulled aside the curtain on the foyer door and peered out at the street. “A handsome one, too. Are you all right, lass?”

“That was Detective Owen Murray,” I told her, realising just how much of a busybody my temporary landlady really was. “I ran into a little trouble and he offered me a ride back.”

“Must have been a wee bit more than a little trouble to get seen home by a detective.” She clucked her tongue and began to check my extremities. It was a little too personal for a woman I’d just met, and I extracted myself as politely as I could manage.

“It was nothing, really,” I muttered. “Just walking where I shouldn’t, I guess.”

“Don’t downplay yourself, lass,” Mrs. Campbell said with a frown. “Times may be changing, but they’re still tough for women, no doubt.”

I wasn’t going to be able to escape without telling her what had happened, so I told her about the men who attacked me in Greyfriars Kirkyard. Her expression changed throughout my tale, morphing from concerned, to interested, to surprised, and thoughtful in the span of three minutes.

“My, my,” she said, wringing her wrinkly hands. “What a welcome Edinburgh has given you, lass. A man and a dog you say?”

“And another weird-looking guy…” I shivered, recalling his pointed teeth and black eyes.

Mrs. Campbell pressed her hands on my cheeks and frowned. “Would you like me to make you something to eat? You look pale.”

For a lady I’d only met a few hours ago and was renting a holiday apartment from, she was acting rather grandmotherly right now. Somehow, I doubted she was like this with all her tenants.

“I’m okay, Mrs. Campbell. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a few days. It’s a long way from Sydney, and no one can ever sleep in economy.”

“Well, you’ll be safe here. I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you.” I seemed to be saying that a lot lately.

Mrs. Campbell returned to peeking out the curtains as I made a hasty exit up the crooked stairs. Closing my apartment door behind me, I flicked on the light and heaved a sigh of relief. I’d led a pretty mundane life for twenty-five years, and I’d made up for it all in one day.

Shuffling across the room, I practically fell into bed, only lingering long enough to change out of my clothes.

The moment my head hit the pillow, sleep took over and the night’s adventures melted away—but I knew the memories would be waiting for me in the morning.

4

What are you doing here? Get out! Run before it’s too late!

I woke with a start, the last of my dream fading into nothingness.

Get out? I rubbed my eyes and looked around the little bedroom, gathering my wits. Exhausted dreams rarely made sense, but it still took me a moment to remember where I was.

I must have slept for at least ten hours because my limbs were stiff and ached as I rolled over. Through the door I could see the window by the dining table where beyond was a grey sky and the sharp edges of the building next door. A moss-green drainpipe crawled up the side of the dark stone, looking like a thick vine, and disappeared out of view.

The longer I lay there and stared at the day, the more last night’s chaos seemed like something that had happened to someone else.

I blinked and a vision of the man with pointed teeth and black eyes appeared like a smack in the face. Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes and kicked my legs out of bed.

It didn’t make sense. Was it some kind of extreme body modification? Eyeball tattoos? Contact lenses? And why did I think of eyeball tattoos before contact lenses?

What would he have done with me if he’d managed to drag me off? It was a question that didn’t bear answering.

Who are you? Where did you come from? The other man’s questions rang through my mind and I shivered. I’d like to know the answer to that too, buddy.

There must be somewhere I could search some historical archives—or births, deaths, and marriages. Maybe Mrs. Campbell would know.

Determined not to let the city crush my spirits, I decided to go out and resume my mission somewhere a little more populated. I showered and dressed, stuffing some of the shortbread biscuits Mrs. Campbell had left into my mouth.

I was still spitting crumbs when I went downstairs.

A man was tinkering with the door, screwing something into the