Blood Faerie by India Drummond Read Free Book Online Page B

of concern passed over her. Was he ill? She didn’t worry about contracting a disease from him. The fae did not succumb to human ailments, but she searched his eyes. He did seem slightly red in the face, but she had no time to worry for him. She could not be found here once darkness fell. “Come, I will guide you to the city.”

Chapter 6
    I am fae , she had said.
     
    Munro lay in his bed and replayed the scene. She’d led him by the hand. An old melody played in his head. Over hill-way up and down…Myrtle green and bracken brown . She’d guided him as far as the Old Bridge and scanned his face with those eyes like pools of liquid silver. When she appeared satisfied with what she saw, she let go.

    He grabbed her wrist, and she flinched. Could she seriously be afraid of him? “What’s your name?” he asked her.
     
    She hesitated, as though giving her name would give away so much more. “Eilidh,” she said. An odd name, old and rich in texture, but once he heard it, he couldn’t imagine anything more right for her. Then she left him, running faster than she should have been able to. He watched until she slipped out of sight, but he couldn’t help but notice that passers-by ignored her, as though she didn’t register in their minds.

    He must be losing it. Somewhere deep, he accepted her. His logical brain, on the other hand, told him to go straight back to the hospital. He was too tired to be reasonable, so he turned toward home. It only took a few minutes to walk to Mill Street, and from there get the bus to the Tulloch Institute a few blocks from his house. By the time he put his key in the front door, it was pitch dark. Only when he heard his landline ringing did he realise he must have lost his mobile sometime during the day.
     
    He answered like always. “Munro.”

    No hello or how are you greeted him. “Jesus. Where have you been?” It was Getty. “The hospital said you walked out.”
     
    “Aye,” Munro said, not sure how to explain himself. “A bit out of it, I guess. How’s the St Paul’s case going? Any word?”

    Getty hesitated. “Not much, really. The victim, Robert Dewer, seems to have no enemies, no recent arguments, not much of a social life at all. The woman he was seen with at the bar, Alison Brice, said she just met him that night. He hadn’t been acting strange, and nobody can see a reason anyone would want him dead.”
     
    “Damn,” was all Munro said to that.

    “Yeah.”
     
    So a real whodunit. No motive and no witnesses. Except Eilidh.

    I am fae.
     
    Munro didn’t know what her presence or her race meant, in terms of their case, and it surprised him that he wanted to believe her strange pronouncement. But even he, a natural sceptic, reinforced by years of hearing every lie and excuse a man might invent, could not deny what he saw in Eilidh’s eyes or heard in her voice—not to mention those ears. But a faerie? Could it possibly be?

    “I’m back at the doc’s in the morning. I’m hoping to get word that’ll get me cleared for duty.” He didn’t mention that he’d spoken to the one possible witness to the murder. Not yet. He felt protective of her, even though he wasn’t sure why. Munro’s head hurt, and he knew none of this made any sense.
     
    “Alright then,” Getty said. His partner understood that he didn’t want to be off work during the biggest investigation their careers would likely see.

    “I’m going to bed. Been a long night. I’ll ring you first thing.”
     
    They said goodbye and Munro did as he said he would. The day had utterly exhausted him. Had he really napped in the forest? He could almost believe his encounter with Eilidh had been nothing more than a fevered dream. Almost.

    Although Munro had nearly talked himself out of returning to the hospital, he didn’t get the chance to back out. Eight hours after that phone call, Getty banged on the door and offered him a lift, even though Munro lived less than a mile from the Perth