Free Marcii (The Dreadhunt Trilogy Book 1) by Ross Turner

Marcii could not remember his wife’s name, but in that particular moment, that wasn’t really what was really troubling her.
    Eventually though, sighing deeply, the young Dougherty relented, for just the same as anybody, she was not perfect herself.
    It was not her place to condemn others, she decided.
    “I’ve been running errands for my mother…I’m very late…I was just on my way home…” She half lied.
    Fortunately, Alexander’s wife, whose name even still Marcii could not remember, did not see through her hastily constructed guise. Alexander looked on at her with grateful eyes filled with silent thanks.
    Marcii’s returning gaze to him was not forgiving, for it was not her place to do that either, but she did not speak of what she’d seen.
    “Well you should be getting home.” Alexander’s blissfully oblivious wife continued. She turned to her dear husband. “Why don’t you walk her home, Alexander?” She suggested.
    But before he could reply, Marcii swiftly intervened, for the notion turned her stomach somewhat violently.
    “No, no…” She declined hastily, smiling falsely. “Not to worry. I’ll be home in no time…”
    “Well run along then dear.” Alexander’s wife ushered her, uncertainty evident in her voice. “This is no time to be walking the streets…”
    And though her warning was of course genuine, she couldn’t possibly have known the full extent of the danger that lurked down the dark, dank alleyways.
    None of them did.
    How could they?
    Marcii bade them both goodnight and took off at a dead run through the dark streets. Fear filled her every breath and a hundred and more thoughts tumbled through her mind.
    This was all getting very out of hand.

Chapter Twelve
     
     
    It wasn’t her best idea, Marcii had to admit.
    She knew Malorie wasn’t the most liked, or trusted, among those in Newmarket. But, if Marcii was honest with herself, that was part of the reason she wanted to visit the kindly woman again so soon.
    What with all the rumours and conspiracies and distrust that Mayor Tyran was stirring amongst the townsfolk, no one was really safe, but especially not those that were already outcast.
    She wasn’t entirely sure where her casual composure was coming from, considering all that had happened of late.
    The nameless monster that had been slaughtering people in the night.
    The hangings.
    The bloody symbols.
    The fear.
    Perhaps she was being foolish, but Marcii pushed any thought of consequences from her mind, pressing on regardless.
    Malorie was her friend.
    She wanted to make sure that she was alright.
     
    She made the excuse to her mother that she was going to see Malorie to pick up more herbs.
    At first Amanda was outraged, for it had been less than a week since she’d sent her daughter last. But, for once daringly fighting her corner, Marcii pointed out that the lingering smell from the decaying cats and smeared blood, scattered all about the town, was vile to say the very least.
    They had been burning fresh herbs to cover the foul stench seemingly by the hour.
    Vermin and rodents of all shapes and sizes had multiplied in number exponentially over the past week, only adding to the problem.
    And, though Tyran had of course assured his people that the smell was a good thing: that it was warding off the evil spirits that all these so called witches were summoning, it was, without a shadow of a doubt, revolting.
    Finally, wrinkling her nose more and more every time Marcii so much as mentioned the dreadful stench, Amanda Dougherty at last conceded. She handed her daughter a few coins and sent her on her way to buy more herbs to burn, just grateful to be rid of her for a few hours, for times were taxing enough as it was.
    The weather outside was grim and for some reason that put Marcii even more on edge. The terrible smell of death and the fear coursing through everybody’s veins seemed to hang in the very air itself, damp and relentless.
    She pulled the hood up on her