by Ross Turner
Any of it.
Reaper held Malorie still, pulling the peculiar, murdered woman so close that the young Dougherty thought he might never let her go.
Clearly there was much here that she knew nothing of.
The ghostly figure of Raven looked on with an expression all of her own, for clearly she had seen much of this before.
It brought to her mind memories of happiness, filling her eyes with glorious delight. But, at the same time, her gaze was tinted with sorrow and regret.
Raven’s eyes revealed the truth of memories so excruciating that it was unbearable. There were simply not enough years in the world for them to be recalled without pain, let alone for her to relive them as she was now having to.
Even so, time waits for no one.
The very sight that could have brought back such surging emotions had just unfolded before her, bringing a whole new meaning to her longing, otherworldly existence.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Was Malorie really a witch?
And if she wasn’t, how in the world could she still be alive?
Was she the one responsible for all that had happened?
All the hunts?
All the torture?
All the executions?
Marcii didn’t know what to think anymore.
She had never even believed in witches, regardless of the fact she’d spent the latter part of her life being hunted for being one.
Naturally, Kaylm felt the same way, although he’d watched Malorie drown in the river with his own eyes, just as Marcii had done.
Whether she’d realised it or not though, Marcii had been growing used to the supernatural over the past weeks, months even. It was something that, even subconsciously, she had been swiftly coming to terms with.
Reaper eventually placed Malorie down, though he seemed more than just a little reluctant to let her go.
All the while the enormous demon’s hand stretched out and Malorie gripped his massive fingers in her tender, delicate palms, unwilling to lose his touch for even a moment.
The mysterious woman turned her gaze once more upon the young Dougherty. Her eyes said just as much as Reaper’s always did, if not even more.
It was as if she could see or sense something most profound, and that indeed also there was an immense, intolerable sadness linked to that knowledge.
Her eyes were more violet and more luminous than ever before and the emotion housed within them was barely concealed, flowing endlessly. They spoke to Marcii with a thousand heeds of warning. Seeing them, the young Dougherty knew immediately there was infinitely more going on here than she could possibly hope to imagine.
So much had happened in such a short space of time, yet it seemed as though she’d still barely even scratched the surface.
Her mind simply could not piece together how Malorie fitted in to all of this, for undoubtedly it was more deeply and more intricately than she could possibly ever begin to comprehend.
And then there was Vixen, and Raven too.
The young, abandoned orphan who, quite clearly, wasn’t what she appeared to be. And the ghost of a woman whom Marcii knew even less about than she did Vixen.
The intricacies here were simply too great for Marcii to fathom in that moment.
But then came Malorie’s words.
When she spoke, her heavy voice was thick with emotion and laden with promise of yet more suffering to come, only disturbing Marcii further.
“We must find the old man Midnight.” The mysterious woman instructed.
Glancing between the young Dougherty and the ghostly figure of Raven, she spoke just as much with her bright violet eyes as she did with her tongue, filling the air with fresh dread that had never before existed in Marcii’s mind.
As is the nature of such things.
“He is in grave danger.” Malorie warned, her words ominous and foreboding. “Only he holds the key to stop all this madness.”
Thank you for reading Reaper
Book Two of The Dreadhunt Trilogy
I hope you enjoyed it
Look out for
Midnight
Book Three of The Dreadhunt Trilogy
Marcii finds herself yet again upon the dreadful streets of Newmarket, seemingly unable to escape them. Having been forced to return upon the witch Malorie's will, she and her companions are in search of the old man Midnight, who somehow might hold the key to their salvation from the Dreadhunt.
When the old man admits that indeed he is not what he seems, an entirely new world opens up to Marcii: one that she could never even have imagined. Those responsible for the savage attacks in Newmarket reveal themselves once and for all, stepping hauntingly from the shadows.
It soon becomes clear to the young Dougherty that these events were not as they first seemed. But the more she manages to unravel the truth, the deeper Marcii finds that she herself is entwined within it.
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