The Rabbit and the Raven: Book Two in the Solas Beir Trilogy by Melissa Eskue Ousley Read Free Book Online

brush.
    Monroe began to scream. The sound was muffled when something black and furry jumped down from an overhanging branch, straight into her face, knocking her to the ground.
    Marisol picked up a driftwood branch, wielding it like a club, and began beating the thing that was on top of her friend. She hit it with all her might, and the creature yelped and scurried away, dragging a long prehensile tail behind it. Carrying the branch in one hand, Marisol pulled Monroe to her feet with the other and helped her run through the grove to a set of stairs etched into the stone retaining wall that bounded Newcastle Beach. Marisol knew that these steps led to the inn’s gardens, and hopefully, to safety.
    The girls ran as fast as they could. Monroe was a little slower because she was wounded. Marisol could see deep gashes on her shoulders and across her collar bone, but luckily the thing had missed her jugular. The creature’s claws, if that’s what they were, had sliced her cheek though, and that seemed to be bleeding the most. Monroe seemed to be more in shock than pain, however, and Marisol guessed that the adrenaline coursing through her body was pushing her to keep going. She would feel the pain later.
    Up ahead, Marisol saw the familiar lights of the inn’s swimming pool, and just beyond that, the lobby. Running over to the pool’s guest services cabana, Marisol snatched a towel and helped Monroe apply pressure to her cheek to stop the bleeding. She helped her friend get inside the lobby, and told the front desk staff to call for medical assistance.
    “You’ll be okay now,” Marisol said. “I’ll be right back—I have to go help the others.”
    “Marisol—no!” Monroe cried, reaching for Marisol’s hand. “Don’t go back out there—please don’t! It’s still out there!”
    Marisol hesitated. She couldn’t help but recognize the irony. In spite of all the times Michal had made snide remarks regarding Monroe’s intelligence, Marisol had to concede that Monroe was the smart one when it came to common sense and safety. Still, someone had to get back out there and try to save their friends.
    Marisol made a decision. “I have to, Monroe.” She let go of her friend’s hand and hefted the heavy piece of driftwood against her shoulder like a baseball bat. As she walked toward the front door of the inn, Marisol looked back once more to reassure Monroe. Then she headed outside, down the inn’s front walk, and back onto the sand.
    The beach was empty. The bonfire was still going, and a few coolers had been tipped over in the chaos, but no one was there. No people, no monsters, nothing but the full moon lighting the empty expanse of shoreline.
    Marisol ventured out onto the sand a little further, hoping to find someone, anyone, alive, dreading a more gruesome discovery. Her terror threatened to paralyze her, making her stomach cramp like it was tied in knots. Taking a deep breath, she tried to force the fear aside and then discovered that she also felt supremely aware , all of her senses finely tuned to note every detail of her surroundings. Probably an adrenaline high, she reasoned.
    The sand was littered with footprints, but it was too loosely packed to determine whether they were made by human feet or not. There were far too many impressions to find a discernible trail leading to someone who might need help.
    Marisol studied the dark grove of trees where the trouble had started. She shuddered, thinking about the thing she and Monroe had encountered. Was Michal still in there? And if so, was she even alive? If she was, Marisol might be her only chance for survival, but it seemed like a very, very bad idea to go in there alone, in the dark. Just looking at the grove made her guts squirm. It would be smarter to go back to the inn and get some help rather than trying to find Michal on her own. That was, if there was anything left to find.
    “Looking for someone?”
    Marisol froze. The voice had come from behind her,