AI Rory gripped the ancient oak tighter, its bark rough under her palms, and hauled herself over the crooked root that barred the way. Thorns snagged her jeans, drawing pinpricks of blood she ignored. The Heartstone pendant thrummed against her chest, warmer now, insistent, like a second heartbeat urging her deeper.
She dropped into the clearing and straightened, torch beam sweeping the wildflowers that carpeted the ground. Petals glowed under the light, unnatural pinks and violets blooming thick despite the chill that seeped through her coat. Richmond Park lay silent beyond the standing stones, their twisted trunks forming a ragged circle around her, but here the air hung thicker, laced with a sweetness that coated her tongue.
The pendant had pulled her to this spot. Last night, after a delivery run to Yu-Fei's that dragged into the small hours, it had started pulsing again, faint at first, then insistent as she unlocked her flat above Silas' bar. Maps on her phone pinpointed Richmond Park, this forgotten corner marked only by old folklore sites. Eva had texted coordinates weeks ago, vague warnings about "thin places" after Rory mentioned the pendant's glow. *Stay away unless it calls you.* But it called. And Rory answered questions, always.
She clicked off the torch to listen. Crickets should chirp this deep in the park, or foxes rustle leaves, but silence pressed in. Only her breath, shallow and steady. She paced the circle's edge, fingers tracing the nearest stone. Its surface pulsed with veins of darker wood, etched with spirals that seemed to shift under her touch . No, not shift. Her eyes tricked her in the dark.
A rustle came from the flowers ahead, soft, like silk dragged over petals. Rory froze, hand dropping to her pocket knife. Rabbits, maybe. Deer. Park wildlife. But the sound repeated, closer, circling left now. She spun the torch back on, beam stabbing the blooms. Nothing. Petals quivered in the breeze that hadn't stirred before.
"Get a grip," she muttered, voice swallowed by the grove. Cool-headed. Think. The pendant warmed further, crimson glow seeping through her shirt. She yanked it free, held it aloft. It pointed north, towards the grove's heart, where a low mound rose, carpeted in clover that shimmered wetly.
Footsteps crunched behind her. Light, deliberate, on grass that shouldn't crunch. Rory whipped around, torch catching empty air between stones. Her beam danced over bark faces that leered from the oaks, knots like eyes narrowing in the light. She backed up, heel sinking into soft earth that pulled like mud.
The air sweetened more, cloying now, honey mixed with rot. She coughed, nostrils flaring at the shift. Something brushed her ankle, feather-light, gone before she looked. Flowers. Just flowers. She knelt, parted the stems. Roots twisted below, pale and fat, pulsing faintly in rhythm with the pendant.
Another rustle, sharper this time, from the mound. Rory rose, knife out, blade catching moonlight that filtered wrong through the canopy. Branches overhead wove too tight for moon to pierce like that. She advanced, torch low, sweeping for tracks. Petals crushed under her boots released pollen that dusted her legs, glowing faintly before fading.
Halfway to the mound, the ground sighed. Air whooshed up from cracks she hadn't seen, carrying whispers. Not words. Fragments. *Lai... la...* Her alias from the flatshare days, back when Evan hunted her. Coincidence. She shook it off, reached the mound's crest.
A dip hollowed the top, ringed by toadstools fat as fists, caps bruised purple. The pendant burned hot now, chain scorching her collarbone. She dangled it over the hollow. Crimson light bloomed below, illuminating bones. Small ones, bird-sized, arranged in a spiral. Fresh marrow gleamed pink.
Rustle again, multiplied. From every stone. Leaves shivered without wind. Rory pocketed the pendant, knife ready, eyes darting. Shadows stretched long between oaks, edges fraying like smoke. One shadow detached, humanoid, hunched at the treeline. She blinked. Gone.
Her pulse thrummed in her ears. Count breaths. One. Two. The whispers grew, layered now. *Carter... Rory... flee...* Her name, hissed through petals. She spun full circle, torch beam whipping shadows that recoiled. The standing stones loomed closer, circle shrinking, bark groaning as wood flexed.
No. Illusion. Oxygen low or pollen haze. She retreated to the stones, pressed back against solid oak. Solid. Fingers dug into bark for anchor. The shadow returned, clearer, slipping between flowers. Slender limbs, too many joints, skin like birch bark peeling in strips. It paused, head cocking, eyes mere hollows reflecting her torch.
Rory slashed the air with the knife. It vanished. Laughter tinkled then, bell-like, from the mound. Children's? No. Higher, fractured . The ground vibrated underfoot, flowers undulating in waves towards her boots.
She bolted for the root barrier, torch bouncing. Petals whipped her calves, thorns now barbed hooks tearing denim. Blood welled hot. Whispers chased her. *Stay. Play. Malphora...* That name. Never spoken aloud. Eva's drunken ramble once, from old Celtic tales. Queen of thorns.
Torchlight caught movement overhead. Branches writhed, forming faces that mouthed her names. She ducked, slammed shoulder into the root. It gave, but vines snaked from soil, coiling her wrist. Crescent scar on her left throbbed , old wound reopening as thorns pierced.
Knife bit vine. Sap oozed black, smelling of iron. She yanked free, tumbled into undergrowth beyond the circle. Torch rolled, beam spinning wild. Shapes poured from the grove now, lithe forms on all fours, bark-skinned, fingers elongated to claws. They giggled, a chorus building.
Rory snatched the torch, sprinted blind through brambles. Branches clawed back, shredding sleeves. The pendant swung wild, heat fading as distance grew. But the giggles followed, gaining. Footfalls pattered, light and relentless.
She burst into proper parkland, oaks thinning to familiar scrub. Deer scattered ahead, eyes white-rimmed. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, screen lighting as she fumbled it out. 3:47 AM. She'd entered at midnight. Minutes? Hours lost.
Giggle right behind. Breath on her neck, sweet and foul. Rory whirled, knife slashing empty air. Nothing. But petals clung to her clothes, glowing faintly, roots twitching like worms.
She ran harder, lungs burning, towards distant streetlights. The giggles split, surrounding. Shapes flickered at vision's edge, herding her left, away from the exit path. One leaped across her beam, mid-stride, elongated limbs folding wrong. It landed silent, watched her pass.
Phone died mid-dial to Eva. Battery full ten minutes ago. Grove's time-slip. Trapped longer than she thought.
Thorns snagged her boot. She kicked free, stumbled into a ditch. Mud sucked at her legs, cold and grasping. Torch sank, beam dimming under slurry. Fingers brushed her calf underwater. Not weeds. Knuckled, probing.
She clawed mud, hauled up. Shapes closed in, circle reforming. Whispers unified. *Ours now. Heartstone's bride.*
Pendant flared again, hottest yet. Rory ripped it off, hurled it into the dark. Glow arced, landed amid shapes. They shrieked, recoiling, petals igniting in crimson bursts.
Silence crashed back. Shapes melted to shadows. She staggered up, coat shredded, arms scored bloody. Torch flickered last light on retreating grove. Stones stood inert, flowers wilted black.
But a single giggle lingered, from the ditch. Small hand broke surface, pale and thorn-pricked, grasping for her dropped knife.
Rory snatched it first, blade sinking into mud beside the fingers. They withdrew, splash fading. She backed away, heart hammering, eyes locked on ripples that spread too far, too deliberate.
Then the ground buckled beneath her, roots erupting in a spray of earth and bone.