Page 10 of Time of the Druid (Stones of Scotland #7)
Chapter 10
N orah wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but it definitely wasn’t good. Every breath felt too loud, every movement like it would shatter the silence and bring the whole place down on her. The moment she’d said his name aloud, she’d felt the shift—like the entire room had inhaled at once and refused to exhale. Why on earth had she used Matthew’s full name? Stupid, stupid, stupid .
The dining area felt like it was shrinking around her, walls of firelight and bodies pressing inward. The crackle of the fire sounded too sharp, too bright against the sudden silence. She could hear the rustle of robes as people turned to stare, could feel the weight of their attention like hands pressing between her shoulder blades. Her throat had gone dry. The air itself seemed to thicken, like smoke without fire, and the heavy scent of stew turned to ash in her mouth.
The tall man, Brude, stepped so close to Norah that she had to lean backward in order to keep her eyes on his face. His expression was cold, detached—not anger, not yet. Just analysis. Like he was studying a threat.
“Alright, enough,” Jack snapped, jumping to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re about, but no one treats the lady like that.”
“Lock them up,” said the silver-haired lady, her voice smooth and quiet but cutting through the air like a blade.
And the dining area erupted into chaos.
Druids lunged at them from every side, some with their hands, and some with glowing ropes of what Norah could only assume was magic. The air itself shimmered around the ropes, like heat off stone. Jack shoved her backward so that she stumbled over the bench and only just kept her footing. He had a gun in either hand, pointed at the druids. They might not have recognized the weapons, but his stance was warning enough. Everyone slowed down.
But it only lasted for a second. There were dozens of druids, and only one Jack. Norah didn’t know who moved first, but one of those fiery ropes lashed at Jack’s arm, catching him with a crackle of energy.
He screamed but didn’t stop moving. Grabbing Norah’s arm with one hand and firing off a shot with the other, he began to drag her away from the chaos, running toward the edge of the forest. Norah twisted her head to look back over her shoulder. A dozen ropes wrapped around Matthew, pinning him in place. He writhed and struggled, twisting to get free. Sparks of light burst around him as he strained against the magic.
Norah froze, her pulse hammering against her ribs. Every instinct screamed at her to keep running, to let Matthew deal with his own trouble. Whatever nefarious plan he’d been in the middle of, it was none of her business. Let him get wrapped up in glowing ropes. Let the druids drag him off to whatever twisted fate they had planned. Edmondson would be happy enough if they killed his son, wouldn’t he? Maybe it would even save her the trouble.
But her legs wouldn’t move.
Because what if they didn’t kill him? What if they kept him alive and started asking questions? What if they found out who she was, who she worked for? Edmondson would be furious that she’d bungled the mission so badly. And Norah knew exactly what he did to people who failed him. The image of the dog crumpling as the stone shattered hit her like a punch to the gut.
“Jack, we have to get him out,” she said urgently.
Jack swore under his breath, then fired two shots in the direction of the crowd. The druids froze for just a second, no doubt confused by the noise, and that time was enough for Matthew. With a single slash of his hands, he severed the glowing ropes and shoved the nearest druids out of the way. He ran, reaching Norah and Jack in just a few long steps.
“Move!” he shouted. “I’m not strong enough to hold them all off at once.”
That was all Norah needed. She jerked into motion like a switch had flipped inside her, adrenaline flooding her limbs. Energy surged through her legs as if someone had lit a fire beneath her feet. She tore free from Jack’s grip, the urgency clawing at her throat, and sprinted toward the trees, her boots pounding over trampled leaves and roots.
She was halfway to the edge of the clearing when a sudden, sharp jolt of dread stopped her cold.
“Our things!” she said, horrified. “Jack, we need the compass.”
“God damn it,” Jack said, casting a glance over his shoulder. An unnatural glow through the trees told them that the druids were heading their way, albeit not at a run. Who could tell what terrible things they might be planning?
“We can’t go back,” Matthew said. “I promise you that if you turn around now, you will die. Nothing is worth going back for. Now run.”
A fireball shot through the branches, singing Norah’s hair. The heat was so close it felt like a slap. She couldn’t stop the shocked scream that ripped from her lips.
“He’s right,” Jack said. “I mean it this time. Run, damn you.”
Norah ran. Her legs burned and her head was a maelstrom of panic—what if they were stuck here?—but she focused on the feeling of her feet on the forest floor, on avoiding the branches that whipped past her feet. She’d be damned if she let some druids take her down. Not after everything she’d survived.
They tore through the woods, crashing through ferns and ducking under low branches. Shadows flickered around them, and the sounds of pursuit stayed just behind—quick footsteps, shouts, and something darker, stranger: the crackling hum of magic. Time lost all shape. Each breath was a gulp of misty air, every heartbeat loud in her ears.
It was hard to tell how long they ran for. In the strange twilight of the forest, time barely seemed to move. Norah’s body, tired though it was, reached a strange kind of equilibrium. On either side of her, Jack and Matthew ran in silence, only the sound of their breathing disturbing the gentle noise of the wind through the canopy.
They didn’t come to a halt until the three of them burst into a small clearing, where the canopy above cracked open just enough to let through a pale wash of evening light. A stream, clear and cold, chattered over smooth stones, cutting the space in half. The damp air clung to their skin, thick with the scent of moss and wet bark. Norah stumbled to a stop and slumped forward, bracing herself on her thighs, lungs dragging in great heaving gulps of air that burned her throat. Her legs felt like lead. Every inch of her ached with the strain of running, but her ears stayed sharp, listening for the snap of branches, for the hiss of magic that might mean the druids were still behind them.
“Are we safe?” she asked, letting her hair tumble down over her face. The gentle stream of air on her sweaty scalp was absolute bliss. Her hands were shaking. She clenched them into fists to make it stop.
“Safe enough for now,” Matthew said grimly. “But I have no idea what any of us are going to do next.”
Norah straightened up, alarmed at the fear she heard in his voice. This was not the cocky, confident Matthew she’d known before. When she glanced at Jack, she saw the same fear in his eyes—tight, wary, and bracing for more.
“Well, we can’t stay in this clearing forever,” she said. Her voice was steady, but her mind raced. “Where can we go?”
The silence stretched too long, and Norah felt the weight of it settle on her chest. Whatever they chose next, it wouldn't be easy—and it wouldn’t be safe.