Marcii (The Dreadhunt Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

house.
    Marcii’s father appeared, his face white and blanched so much so that he looked decidedly ill.
    His name was Marcus Dougherty.
    He was of a slight build and was shorter than Marcii’s mother, and in fact slightly older than her too. He had light brown hair and attractive blue eyes, though they seemed aggrieved at that point and Marcii could see quite clearly he still wasn’t well.
    Her father had always been a weak, sickly man. He coughed groggily and his eyes looked bloodshot and were streaked with red.
    Smiling warmly at his youngest daughter, he crept into the room and came to sit beside his wife, though he daren’t sit too close, for her tongue was sharp, and her temper sharper.
    She did not greet him and shot him only the briefest of glances. It was a look filled with solemn regret and disappointment, tinged with the resentment that always follows confinement.
    “And my coin?” Amanda questioned immediately, even before Marcii had placed the last item from her list upon the table.
    Her daughter dove again into the deep pockets of her coat and scrabbled about for every last penny, knowing full well her mother would count them more than thrice to check she hadn’t been swindled.
    Though her father was a cooper, and a skilled one at that, Marcii’s family were not wealthy.
    They did not live in poverty like some.
    Like Vixen, Marcii thought to herself.
    But times were often tough.
                  Suddenly, and in fact thankfully, for Marcii always felt the tension between her parents most keenly, there was a heavy knock at the door. The sharp rap of knuckles upon wood echoed in Marcii’s ears and she turned automatically to answer, knowing if she moved too slowly she would feel her mother’s wrath.
                  She always did her best to please; she had little other choice. But more often than not she found that she couldn’t do right for doing wrong.
                  The door creaked slowly inward as Marcii yanked it back.
    Accompanied by a rush of cold air came the sight of a priest. He was garbed in dull, unkempt brown robes that began in a hood and reached all the way down to his feet, revealing only the tips of his equally grubby, brown leather shoes.
                  His red hair was thick and scruffy, sitting in haphazard curls jutting off in all directions atop his head, and his face was freckled more than reasonably.
                  “Alexander!” Marcus cried, rising as swiftly as he could manage to his feet.
                  But before their guest could reply, Amanda cut in.
                  “Come inside before you let all the heat out!” She instructed.
    Alexander did as he was bid.
    Marcii complied too and instantly closed the door behind him, catching his wry smirk that made her chuckle inwardly.
                  Alexander Freeman had always been something of a fool. He’d grown up with Marcii’s father, right here in Newmarket, and had often been caught out stealing from the market stalls.
                  His parents had forced him to join the Priesthood in the hope to straighten him out. However, aside from just about managing to keep his head above water, including baptising Marcii and her older sister, he was, at best, an average servant of the good Lord.
    He much preferred to simply live in the moment, and rarely considered the consequences that might perchance play out from his actions.
                  Whether that is the best way to be or not, will likely never be decided.
                  “I’ve just come from the square…” Alexander informed them immediately, rubbing his hands firmly together. “Tyran was on top form as ever…”
                  “Yes…” Amanda replied for her husband. “She mentioned something about that…” She said, indicating uncaringly towards Marcii. “Though she wasn’t very specific…” She