The scene pierced my heart, because for the first time I was allowing myself to fall for a place that would welcome me. Sure, Loren Brae likely had her downfalls, but for now, she was shiny and new, andmine. Mine to call home.
Humming, a smile on my face, I continued down the hill toward the village, cradling Betty at my side.
A prickle of awareness, just a slight buzz against the back of my neck, had me snapping my head up and out of my reverie. It was the awareness that all women had, particularly when walking alone at night, but mine was honed after years of being ostracized. I stopped, turning in a full circle to look behind me, scanning the thick bushes and undergrowth that lined the opposite side of the street.
Eyes glinted.
It was just a glimmer, a small reflection, and then it disappeared, and though I searched, I couldn’t make out any movement.
Had I imagined it?
“Gloam?” I whispered, hoping my fox was silently following me home.
But why would he be silent? Wouldn’t he have madehimself known? A shriek tore through the night, ripping the blissful silence to shreds, and I froze. Slowly, I turned my head toward the loch, my heart pounding violently. A dark shadow drifted across the surface, cutting through the moonlight’s path reflected on the water. It was far in the distance, close to where the Stone of Truth was buried on the island, but even from here I could just make out the shape of a horse’s head rearing up from the water.
Would it attack? Or was their shriek just a warning?
It was my first time hearing them, even though Sophie had told me that Loren Brae had been plagued by the beasts for a while now. The only problem? Well, I should amend that as there were many problems with this situation. I didn’t have my weapon with me. Though I wasn’t entirely certain what I could do with a small scalpel against the ominous beast that drifted across the dark waters. The next biggest problem I had? There was still a sizable distance between me and my flat, which meant one of two things: I could either make a break for it and risk angering the Kelpie into chase, or I could ease backward into the bushes.
The same bushes where I’d just seen eyes glimmering at me.
Neither of these options felt particularly wise, but given the fact that Betty was the only weapon I currently held, and I was uncertain of a Kelpie’s speed, fading back into the dark undergrowth seemed the reasonable choice. Right, maybe not reasonable, but the one currently afforded to me.
My whole life I’d been taught to run. And as much as I wanted to stand at the side of the loch and face this beast head-on—just to prove that I could—I also wasn’tstupid. What I needed was far more training before I attempted to take on a Kelpie on my own. I eased backward, keeping my eyes trained on the water, and softly stepped toward the long row of hedges that lined the street. With each step, I felt my way with my foot, praying I wouldn’t trip and go sprawling across the pavement, and sweat beaded my brow. My breath came out in short bursts, and I pressed my lips together, not wanting to make any untoward sound to draw attention to myself. So far, the Kelpie continued to prowl the water near the island, and I didn’t want to draw it any closer to where I was.
The back of my foot hit the curb and I stepped backward, easing each foot upward, until branches touched my back. Bending forward, I ducked, pushing my bum through the hedges, protecting Betty as I went. Just a few centimeters more and I’d be fully concealed from sight. From there, maybe I could make a break for it if I could navigate the dense undergrowth coating the hills by the light of the moon.
If the sheep could do it, surely I could as well.
If only I had Sophie’s number on my phone—why didn’t I?—so I could quietly text her.
My phone rang.
Shite. Did I summon that to happen?
The first strains of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” a whimsical choice I’d picked so I wouldn’t get annoyed if people called me off-hours, boomed into the night before I slapped a hand against my pocket, silencing it.
I held my breath, but the shadow veered, racing toward me, a dark horse thundering down across a moonlit path.
“Shite!” I turned to run, branches scraping at my face, but a low growl stopped me.
Fuck.
When I turned, there was a dog standing tall, its back to me, hackles raised, as the Kelpie loomed closer. With its shaggy coat, broad shoulders, and pointed ears, the husky could almost be mistaken for a wolf. Except wolves had long since been gone from Scotland. Worry filled me as the shadow of the Kelpie fell, impossibly large, and the dog stood its ground, its head angled high, teeth bared to the threat.
I’d made a promise to myself to protect and help animals when I’d become a veterinarian. But this oath ran deeper, to one my mum and I had always practiced. First, protect.Thenpreserve or heal, as needed. And I, a protector of animals, was hiding in the bushes when one was about to become hurt.
Indecision warred and cost me time. Before I could step out, try to help, do anything, the husky lunged into the air, teeth glinting in the moonlight as it snapped its jaws ferociously. I froze, seeing how wild and untamed this dog was, and cringed as the Kelpie reared up.
Once more the animal leaped into the air, growling furiously, and to my absolute shock, the Kelpie shrunk backward.
He was doing it. The dog was keeping it at bay. When the Kelpie turned tail and raced across the loch, back toward the island, the husky turned and shot me a furious glance over its shoulder. It’s golden eyes glimmered, and I realized that this was the same beast that had been stalking me in the bushes.
Shite. Shite. Shite.
Fear rose, my throat going dry, and I swallowed once before I followed the Kelpie’s suit and turned tail and ran.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I was thinking, as branches bounced off my arms and scraped my face, and racing through the thick underbrush was impossible even under the bright light of the full moon. But panic is not friends with logic.
