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

jacket and hid away from the drizzling rain as best she could manage. As she passed silently through the streets and down the narrow alleyways, though it was nearly the middle of the day, it was almost as dark as it had been the previous night. Above her the ominous clouds were black and thick and overbearing, watching her as she walked.
    For some reason the weather seemed to affect Marcii’s mood more substantially than it ever had done before. By the time she eventually reached Malorie’s curious little home, as quaint and inviting as ever, Marcii’s surly disposition was obvious to any onlooker.
    However, though she’d hoped for exactly the opposite, upon her arrival, the sight which greeted Marcii did nothing to set her at ease. Her breath was filled with dread and her eyes pooled with dismay as she approached Malorie’s cottage.
    Keeping her distance, not wanting to be seen too close to Malorie’s home at first, for the sight was all but horrific, Marcii slipped into an alleyway to gather her wits and her composure.
    She peeked round the corner with a lump lodged in her throat.
    Three cats were skewered in Malorie’s front garden, undoubtedly hers. Marcii recalled seeing them only a few days ago, the last time she had visited.
    Presumably in the poor creatures’ blood, painted across the entirety of the house, covering every inch from the door to the rooftop, were those same symbols Marcii and Kaylm had seen the priests painting on the church only the night before.
    Unquestionably, the symbols had been painted by Tyran’s hirelings, meant to ward off evil and warn all who passed that a witch resided within.
    Surely, to be seen entering such a place would condemn Marcii as well.
    But she was committed now.
    She hadn’t come this far just to give up.
    Malorie was her friend, and with that in mind the young Dougherty stepped out into the meagre light. Drenched still by the ceaseless rain she stole through the dreadful day and towards her destination.
    She slipped inside swiftly, not even knocking at the door between the crumbling stones, for she knew the longer she spent upon the doorstep the more likely it was she would be seen.
    As soon as she entered she pushed the door quickly to behind her. It closed with a faintly audible click and Marcii surveyed the mess revealed before her with eyes wide.
    Considering Malorie’s home was only tiny inside, with barely enough room for what seemed like two dozen belongings, it appeared that Tyran’s enforcers had been most thorough. The table was overturned, and strewn about everywhere were smashed plates and cups and saucers and pots.
    The tiny living room and kitchen were in a horrendous state and Marcii felt dreadful at the mere sight of what lay before her.
    So fixated was she on what she saw that when Malorie finally spoke the young Dougherty jumped nearly a foot in the air.
    “Marcii.” Malorie breathed, her voice laden with sorrow.
    “Oh my God!” Marcii cried, shuddering as her words escaped her in fright.
    “My apologies…” Malorie offered as Marcii regained her breath, clutching at her chest amidst the mess strewn all around. “I didn’t mean to startle you…”
    “It’s okay…” Marcii managed, half laughing as she spoke, waving it off casually. “Don’t worry…”
    “Why have you come child?” Malorie asked then, cutting straight to the point as she often did, concern flooding from her words. “It’s too dangerous for you to be here.”
    “My mother needs more herbs…” Marcii started, but she did not finish.
    The look Malorie gave her then was perhaps the hardest, most withering gaze Marcii had ever seen from the strange, likeable woman. In response, the young girl silenced immediately and sighed most heavily.
    “I was worried about you.” Marcii admitted. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
    Malorie’s eyes softened, but her words were still weighed down by worry.
    “You shouldn’t be here.” The strange, distraught