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

jamb with a power drill. A toolbox was at his feet, and he wore a sweatshirt that read Edinburgh Security Systems PTY LTD.

Mrs. Campbell was pacing behind him like a restless fox, supervising his work with a keen eye. When she heard me on the creaky stairs, she threw her hands into the air and grinned up at me.

“Elspeth, there you are, lass,” she declared. “I thought it was past time to get some extra security installed.” She handed me a little grey plastic tag. “Pop this on your keys. The man tells me it’s called a fob.”

“Uh, thank you.” I wiped the biscuit crumbs from my mouth and took the tag, slipping it into my pocket.

This place was getting stranger as time went on…and not much time had passed. I wondered what chaos today would bring. Fingers crossed it was a little less menacing than last night’s adventure.

“Where are you off to today?” Mrs. Campbell asked, slyly ogling the installer’s rear end.

“I thought I might walk up to the castle,” I said, wondering if I should frown or laugh at her antics.

“Oh, good. Lots of people up there on the Mile. The castle is expensive, but everyone should go inside at least once.” She turned back to the workman and resumed her staring.

“Mrs. Campbell?” She looked at me and tilted her head to the side. “Do you know where I might be able to find some public information about births and deaths? And other things like marriages and census records? I’m researching my family tree and—”

“You can always look on the internet for that kind of thing. I’m a great fan of that Ancestor website, but you can go to the National Records office on Princes Street. It costs money, last I heard.”

“Thank you. I may as well walk over there and have a look before going to the castle.”

I gave her a small wave and stepped around the workman and out onto the street. The air was crisp, and I was glad I had the foresight to pack my coat. It was a thin leather jacket, but it kept most of the chill out.

“She’s such polite lass,” I heard Mrs. Campbell say to the workman. Then she bellowed after me, “Don’t forget it gets dark at half three!”

* * *

The National Records of Scotland sat directly at one end of North Bridge in the New Town of Edinburgh.

After five minutes in the place, I was told there was no room available for record searches and I’d have to make a booking online to reserve a desk. The fee was fifteen pounds a day, which was at least thirty Australian dollars—not cheap by any means.

I thanked the clerk and went outside, feeling a little deflated over the whole thing. I should have done more research, but my trip was so last minute that I’d done nothing but book a flight and the accommodation to go with it.

Outside was a statue of the Duke of Wellington on a rearing horse, the original brass long turned green due to the weather. I looked up at it and wondered what he would do. Wellington was a general, right? No, he was a prime minister.

I blinked up at the statue. We were definitely in two different leagues.

“Elspeth!”

My heart leapt at the sound of someone shouting my name. I turned to find Owen walking towards me, his imposing stature caused people to dart out of his way.

“Twice in as many days,” he declared, flashing a five-million-megawatt smile at me. “How are you this morning?”

My heart fluttered. “Much better.”

“I’m glad to see you out and not too shaken by your ordeal last night.”

I didn’t want to talk about it, so I veered the conversation elsewhere. “What are you doing today? I thought you’d be out working.”

“Oh, it’s my rostered afternoon off today,” he explained. “I was doing a few things in town when I spotted you.”

My nerves tingled at the vagueness of his explanation. Don’t be so critical, Elspeth. It’s just the lingering shock after what had happened last night.

That was one of my faults, I supposed. Overthinking, critical, suspicious—all excuses for not putting myself out there more.

“Don’t worry about your report,” he added. “I spent the morning canvassing Greyfriars with some constables.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Nothing, unfortunately. The kirk’s CCTV wasn’t working and it was dark. A lot of tourists visit to see the graves and the grass is all churned up, so there wasn’t much to find.” He smiled in an attempt to reassure me. “Your descriptions of the two men have been circulated, so all of Edinburgh’s officers will be on the lookout.”

I guess it was as much as I could hope for. Knowing those men were still out there was a little unnerving, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me from enjoying my holiday.

“This is nice,” he said, plucking the scarf around my neck.

I looked down at my first Scottish purchase. The scarf was green, blue, and black tartan, supposedly made from lambswool, though it felt acrylic to me.

“Oh, I didn’t think to bring one so I got it this morning from one of those tacky souvenir shops,” I explained. “It’s summer back home.”

“It’s called a Black Watch tartan,” Owen told me. “It’s for those who have no family tartan of their own.”

I snorted at the irony and shook my head. It was the only colour I liked out of the thirty variations on display. Another omen.

“What did I say?” Owen frowned and looked up at the archives.

“Nothing… It’s just I didn’t come here to be a tourist. I wanted to learn more about my family.”

“Your father?”

I nodded, remembering that I’d mentioned it last night. “He never really spoke about where he came from, only that he immigrated from Scotland when I was a baby. He passed away before I could ask the hard questions.”

“Oh, I see,” he said thoughtfully. “Was the archive no help?”

“I had to book a seat to do a day search, or whatever they