Midnight (The Dreadhunt Trilogy Book 3)

by Ross Turner

  Silence followed, hanging over them for a minute or two, as the standoff remained.

  All the while Marcii and Kaylm searched Malcolm’s face for any sign of deceit. Even the tiniest hint of treachery would have sent them to cast Kaylm’s older brother away and into the wilderness once more.

  He might have returned to Tyran’s rule.

  Though, if his words were true, he might not.

  He might have preferred his chances away from civilisation for a time.

  Eventually Marcii relented.

  Her exhaustion won out over her suspicion.

  “Have you eaten?” She asked. Her words were still sharp but at least a little of the poison had faded from them.

  Malcolm shook his head.

  Kaylm looked across to the young Dougherty, concerned. He’d already felt the shaking in her fingers spread through her palm and worsen.

  His eyes filled with concern and asked silently if she was okay.

  Smiling wryly, Marcii finally gave in to her fatigue.

  “Come.” She breathed, looking back to Malcolm, offering him rest and food in that single syllable. Though she daren’t admit that she desperately needed both herself.

  Malcolm smiled thankfully and followed the witch Marcii and her friends through into the old, abandoned town and down the narrow, stone streets.

  He kept his eyes down and his face straight, maintaining his composure.

  Secretly though, deep inside, he revelled.

  One step closer to success.

  Ever closer to revenge.

  Chapter Forty

  The fire popped and cracked and filled the stone tower with warmth. There was already plenty of light, for the day was clear and bright, though winter’s grasp was crisp and freezing cold.

  They had taken to congregating at the top of Raven’s Keep more and more frequently. It was something that seemed to have been decided without a word, though none of them were really sure why.

  Perhaps because the tower gave them a view of their surroundings they felt they might be more prepared when either Tyran or Alistair did finally appear.

  Sitting in silence around the fire, eating freshly cooked game that Reaper had caught for them, even still Marcii’s mind tumbled over itself. It seemed to have done nothing else of late.

  As she looked around she realised in awe how their numbers had grown.

  Fortune had indeed fallen upon them to find such company in all of this. But the more she thought on it, the more she realised that such good fortune had only come out of their individual suffering.

  In the beginning, when she had first fled Newmarket, after watching Tyran burn her family alive, Marcii had felt so alone.

  She’d thrown herself into the wilderness in a desperate attempt to escape Tyran’s hunting party. She hadn’t known where she might go and, if she was perfectly honest, she had expected little but death.

  But alas, it was not to be.

  The enormous demon Reaper had pulled her from the icy clutches of death, in more ways than one.

  Though he’d saved her life, admittedly at first, he had absolutely terrified her.

  Marcii recalled her fear wryly.

  She glanced across the dancing flames at the enormous and intimidating demon sat opposite her. His black eyes like the darkest coal kept their wary gaze upon Malcolm, for clearly he still did not trust the newcomer.

  Marcii sighed.

  If she was honest neither did she.

  She just prayed she hadn’t made a mistake letting him join them, and that she wouldn’t come to regret it.

  Who it was exactly she was praying to though, she was still yet to decide.

  Kaylm squeezed her hand and she threw her gaze to him and smiled. He sat close beside her as he always did.

  She remembered how he’d risked his life to come and find her, and indeed had very nearly paid the full price for his efforts.

  Marcii smiled grimly as her memories came flooding back to her. She remembered seeing Kaylm in her vision, bound and helpless. She had been so determined to save him. Though at the time she hadn’t realised exactly why.

  She did now though, as she looked at him once more.

  It was because she loved him.

  The young Dougherty smiled again as something Malorie had once told her crossed her mind.

  ‘She shows these things to us so that we may act on them, if we choose to.’

  And my how she had acted on it, Marcii thought to herself amusingly. Mother Nature had indeed known exactly what she would want to see.

  At the memory of Malorie’s words Marcii looked across at her fellow witch, sat contentedly beside Reaper. Her head rested lightly against his massive arm, though her gaze was not idle either and flickered dangerously to Malcolm every few minutes or so.

  She had been murdered.

  Marcii had watched it with her own eyes.

  Yet, regardless, she’d been waiting for them when they’d reached Ravenhead and had insisted that they return to Newmarket to find the old man Midnight.

  With a lot of luck, and even more help, they’d eventually managed to do so, though without Vixen, Marcii was certain they would not have succeeded.

  Marcii thought on the young orphan girl Vixen then. And indeed Raven too.

  They were entities all of their own: mixed up so impossibly deeply in all of this that it was difficult to even keep track.

  Raven, Malorie’s mother, had resided in Ravenhead for all of her life, and in fact beyond it too. She had caused its abandonment when her son had been killed, whilst in the very same moment Malorie had created Reaper.

  And Vixen, the young orphan whom, in reality, was so much more.

  As far as Marcii understood, Mother Nature had quite simply created her, out of nothing, it would seem. And her single purpose, her sole reason for existence, was Marcii.

  To help her.

  To guide her.

  She had certainly fulfilled that task, the young Dougherty thought, and then some.

  For as long as Marcii could remember Vixen had always been there.

  In fact, she struggled to remember an occasion, either before or after she’d left Newmarket, that Vixen had not helped her.

  She was sure there must have been a time, at least once, when the young orphan had not intervened.

  However, hard as she racked her thoughts, she could not think of even one.

  And now Malcolm had appeared.

  After everything.

  He and his parents had driven Kaylm out in the first place.

  Though Tyran was not innocent in all of this, Marcii thought.

  There was just too much to think about.

  Too much to worry about.

  Malcolm had talked briefly about the wolves, but he hadn’t even mentioned Alistair. It was altogether possible, and probably quite likely, that he didn’t even know about the old man Midnight’s involvement in all of this, let alone his younger brother.

  Marcii sighed.

  She was weary beyond belief. Food had done her good though and she felt herself slowly recovering.

  It would not be long she imagined before either Alistair appeared with his pack, or Tyran with his army.

  Either way, very soon, all of this would come to a head.

  One way or another, all of their futures would shortly be decided.

  The trouble though, Marcii suddenly realised, was that she didn’t know who the one making those decisions would be.

  She felt all of a sudden completely helpless.

  Grasping understanding all at once, she realised that her life, and indeed the lives of all her friends, were no longer in their own hands.

  The decision of their fates lay elsewhere, and the thought of that alone was utterly terrifying.

  Chapter Forty-One

  The young Master Evans was feeling helpless too. But his mind was not working as quickly, nor as deeply as Marcii’s, for his thoughts were settled upon a single, overwhelming notion.

  His c
oncern was centred almost solely around his older brother.

  Since joining them Malcolm had been nothing if not sincere. He told them of how Tyran’s madness had only deepened when the wolves had decimated his ranks. And then, just as suddenly as they’d arrived, the great beasts the size of bears were gone.

  He smirked when he recalled for them how furious Tyran had been when he’d discovered that Marcii had returned yet again to Newmarket, and once more slipped through his fingers.

  The more Malcolm talked, telling them all about the bustling trade town, the more it sounded as if Tyran had destroyed what had once been their home. Kaylm’s older brother told them of how all the market stalls had been replaced with rows and rows of armouries, stacked higher and higher by the day with lethal weaponry of all sorts.

  Marcii seconded most everything Malcolm told them, for she had seen much of it in her many visions. And though he remained silent, Kaylm too knew that his brother spoke the truth, for he had seen Marcii’s visions for himself.

  For some reason, the more Malcolm and Marcii concurred, the more emphasis Kaylm’s own subconscious placed on his own feelings of worthlessness: feelings that had already surfaced on their own, let alone with this not so subtle encouragement.

  Kaylm’s eyes wandered from the fire and from the group and began scanning the empty streets below, searching for a distraction from his silent torment.

  The snow was falling slowly and in thick chunks, blocking most of the light that still remained in the dim, late afternoon. The longer his eyes avoided the fire the more they adjusted to the murky streets.

  After a few minutes he could make out more of the buildings outlined amidst the enormous, drifting snowflakes.

  The empty streets snaked out away from the Keep like arteries feeding out from a beating heart. Except these arteries were not filled with rushing blood, giving life to everything they touched. Instead they were empty, piled high with thick snowdrifts that only deepened as time went on, blocking all routes of escape.

  Or were they?

  Suddenly Kaylm’s sharpened eyes picked up movement, and not just that of the settling snowfall. A figure slipped into perfect view of where he sat, standing upright amidst the powder.

  His heartbeat quickened.

  None of the others had seen it. They were all still too busy listening to Malcolm.

  Shuddering slightly as a chill coursed through him, the young Evans fought to control his breathing, not wanting to give anything away.

  Suddenly, just as quickly as it had appeared, the figure vanished. It melted away amidst the veins and arteries, vanishing into the dim murk that hung so heavily.

  He should really have told the others what he’d seen.

  But he didn’t.

  Of course he wasn’t going to.

  This was his chance: his opportunity to prove his worth.

  Unlinking his hand from Marcii’s, Kaylm made the excuse that he was going to fetch more firewood.

  He hurried for the stairs before anyone had time to argue. Marcii and Malcolm were still deep in conversation. So, although she acknowledged Kaylm’s words, the young Dougherty did not see the haunted look in his eyes.

  Malcolm smiled slyly but did well to conceal it within the conversation.

  Malorie, Reaper and Midnight however all noticed that something was amiss. They shared a worried glance between themselves as the young Master Evans scurried past and descended the stone stairwell.

  Soon Kaylm disappeared into the gloom below and Malorie nodded at Midnight and Reaper almost imperceptibly. That single gesture confirmed that they’d all had the same identical thought.

  Reaper’s giant hands spun into motion, keeping their movements small and discreet so as not to draw Marcii or Malcolm’s attentions.

  He confirmed what they’d all thought. He stated that their eyes were better and that he and Midnight would ensure Kaylm was unharmed, whilst Malorie stayed back to ensure Marcii’s safety too.

  Without a sound it was decided.

  The enormous demon, moving as ever upon perfectly silent feet, followed the old man Midnight down the stairs and after Kaylm.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, plunging into the darkness, they saw that Kaylm had taken his armour that he’d left at the bottom of the Keep.

  His sword was gone too.

  “I’ve never known firewood to put up that much of a fight…” Midnight breathed through the night. Snow began to settle in his scruffy, grey hair and beard and his subdued words steamed out in great, puffing billows.

  The two of them exchanged a worried look and Reaper’s expression spoke volumes, as it always did.

  Fortunately, their pitch black eyes like burning coal enabled them to see perfectly in the swiftly advancing night. Kaylm’s footprints were obvious in the already packed snow and they set off in swift pursuit, keeping where they could to alleys parallel to Kaylm’s route.

  After a few minutes they’d passed by the wood store and continued further out into the complexes of Ravenhead, keeping on swift, silent feet the whole way.

  Where their young friend was going they had no idea.

  But something was troubling him, certainly.

  And the further they went, the deeper the pit in the old man Midnight’s stomach grew, for he could sense that danger was drawing near.

  Reaper’s expression mirrored his concerns, though the enormous demon made no more efforts to talk and his eyes remained everywhere all at once.

  The snow continued to tumble down, heavier and heavier until the air was filled with slowly falling flakes. Soon it was so thick that even Midnight and Reaper’s perfect eyes struggled to make out anything further than a dozen feet or so ahead of them.

  Blinded by the weather, they pressed on.

  It wasn’t long though before the snow was falling so heavily that they were beginning to lose Kaylm’s tracks, for his footprints were refilling faster than they could follow them.

  Panicking, they picked up their pace.

  Something was terribly wrong. They could sense it now clear as day and their hearts raced, beating furiously in their chests.

  Undoubtedly Marcii would be able to sense it too, but whether she’d get very far in this snowfall was anybody’s guess.

  All they could do was continue on, hoping desperately that when they eventually found the young Master Evans, it wasn’t already too late.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The young witch Marcii Dougherty stumbled blindly through the thick snowfall, forcing her heavy legs through the built up snowdrifts. There was no time to accommodate her remaining fatigue, still bearing down so heavily upon her.

  Her legs felt as though they were made of lead and only grew heavier the further she forced her way through the snow.

  She’d been hoping to follow the others’ footprints through the already settled white. But the falling flakes were so thick that even Reaper’s massive tracks had already been filled.

  Nonetheless, Malorie, Raven, Vixen and of course Malcolm, all followed her without question, trusting that she knew where she was leading them. After all, she’d been the one who’d torn them away from the warmth and security of Raven’s Keep and led them out into the freezing night.

  In truth Marcii hadn’t really known what she’d felt. But whatever it was it had screamed in her senses like a siren and Mother Nature had sent the world spinning all around her.

  This time there had been no vision to follow the feeling however: just a pit of dread so deep within her that it could only have meant one thing.

  Turning corner after corner and trudging down every street that drove the void within Marcii’s soul ever deeper than the last, she continued to lead them blindly through the night.

  After what felt like hours her body was numb through with cold and exhaustion.

  The whole search seemed futile.

  She didn’t even really know what she was looking for.

  Then, all of a sudden, out of the gloom, two
figures materialised before her, as if they’d been waiting for her all along.

  They were facing away from her, but it was clear to Marcii who they were. She recognised the enormous, looming figure of the demon Reaper immediately, and beside him stood the comparatively tiny outline of the old man Midnight.

  Marcii called out to them, but her voice seemed to float away and vanish into the harsh night, disappearing off into the distance amidst the heavy snowfall.

  Drawing closer and trying again, forcing her legs through the snow with animalistic grunts of effort, still they did not hear her.

  Finally, and only as she’d almost reached them did they turn at the sound of her voice.

  Instantly, Marcii knew something was terribly wrong.

  Their expressions were identical: both stricken.

  “What is it?” She asked quietly, afraid to even speak. Somehow her meagre whisper carried more easily through the darkness than her shouts had done.

  Midnight opened his mouth to reply but then closed it again, seemingly unable to find the right words.

  Reaper just shook his enormous head and turned his eyes forward once more, raising his hand to gesture out into the night as he did so.

  Marcii strained her eyes to see, but she knew she didn’t stand a chance compared to the two of them.

  Frustrated and filled with fear, she collected her thoughts, attempting to calm them as she did so, concentrating upon a single, unified notion.

  Very, very slowly, maddeningly so, the snowfall began to lighten and cease.

  It took what felt like all of her remaining strength and then some.

  More than once she thought herself foolish for trying such a thing.

  She was probably going to need every ounce of energy she was using right now for whatever lay beyond the murky blackness, just out of sight.

  It made no difference though.

  She wouldn’t be able to do anything if she couldn’t see.

  Besides, she was committed to this now.

  As the gloom eventually lifted and the snowfall finally ceased, Marcii’s heart skipped a beat. The vacuum inside of her bottomed out and she felt as if the world had unexpectedly fallen away from beneath her feet.