Midnight (The Dreadhunt Trilogy Book 3)

by Ross Turner

  Her legs buckled beneath her as if the weight of a house had just come to rest upon her shoulders, though in reality it was merely the burden of endless fatigue.

  Kaylm threw himself to Marcii’s side, ignoring the danger he was putting himself in, for all he cared about was her.

  Alistair smiled venomously and drew his blade slowly from Reaper’s skull. It made a horrible grinding sound that set even Tyran’s teeth on edge, and all heads slowly turned to look upon the man who was more a wolf than anything else.

  He rose to his full, imposing height and took cruel advantage of his animalistic ways, barking orders to his pack in short, sharp commands.

  Once again, without question, the wolves began to circle. All signs of injury seemed forgotten as they ignored their wounds and the pain that coursed through their bleeding limbs. Tyran’s men looked on, terrified, in that instant losing their will to fight almost completely.

  But then Alistair barked another command and his wolves turned their level gazes inward, all focusing upon the same target.

  They drew in about the young Dougherty, still lying unconscious upon the floor. Though they encircled her without question, their movements were slow and wary. Their eyes and their thoughts filled with uncertainty all the while.

  “KILL HER!!” Alistair suddenly roared, making everyone around him flinch, his pack included.

  Kaylm glanced around at the wolves that had surrounded them and swallowed heavily, crouching over his Marcii as protectively as he could manage.

  But there was no hatred or venom in the black, wolfish eyes surrounding him. Not like there was in Alistair’s.

  Still, that didn’t mean they would ignore his orders.

  Closing his eyes and gently shifting Marcii so that her head lay upon his lap, Kaylm kept her close, almost as if he was daring the wolves to try to get through him to kill her.

  Of course, that was a fight he would lose, but he would not go down without it.

  The wolves slowly closed in, ready, though all but willing, to follow their Master’s command.

  And then all of a sudden they froze, petrified.

  Marcii stirred and her eyes cracked open.

  The first thing she saw was Kaylm.

  He rested his fingers gently on her cheek.

  She smiled and turned her head to kiss the back of his hand.

  Then, as she climbed slowly and wearily to her feet, looking around all the while at the wolves that had encircled without her knowing, they flinched beneath her exhausted, steely gaze.

  Her eyes were filled with cold, yellow fire and there was infinitely more to her fierce gaze than that of a mere mortal, for she was certainly not the same girl she had been.

  She looked upon them, boring the flickering yellow of her furious eyes into their unmistakeable jet black coals, and all of a sudden everything changed.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Marcii was closer to Mother Nature now than she could possibly ever have hoped to be.

  It was as if she had become Her. Their wills flowed through each other as if they were one and the same being.

  As Alistair’s wolves looked in on their prey, just as they had been ordered to, Marcii turned her gaze, and indeed the very gaze of Mother Nature Herself, upon them one by one.

  Their eyes were suddenly opened and their minds released from the binding grasp that had been holding them for so many long years.

  In truth, though they had seemingly been the cause of so much suffering, they were innocent in all this madness.

  Suddenly free, blindingly so in fact, the wolves that were no longer Alistair’s looked upon Marcii as if for the first time. They saw her for everything that she was: everything that she had become.

  Then, looking around at the mayhem all about them, the pack saw with utter disgust and absolute horror the bodies littered like fallen leaves. Their own kind were scattered amongst the human bodies, laid to ruin, and the sight turned their animalistic hearts inside out.

  Unable to stand it for even a second longer, the pack immediately filtered out and away from the bloodshed, knowing above all else that it was not natural for them to be there.

  As they passed by the old man Alistair, his black eyes raging and furious, they each snarled fiercely at him in turn. Baring their teeth viciously, dripping blood, they never wanted to see him again for as long as they lived.

  Outraged and furious, he bellowed and shouted after them as they left, disappearing between the buildings and out of sight. It made no difference whatsoever though, for they were no longer bound to him.

  They quickly vanished from sight as if they’d never been there, leaving only footprints and the occasional trail of blood from their fresh, gaping wounds behind in the already churned snow.

  Soon they were gone.

  If it hadn’t been for the littered carcasses that remained, it might even have seemed as if they’d never been there at all.

  Marcii sighed heavily.

  In the same moment that she realised she could never undo all the torment Alistair had put those poor creatures through, over the many long years, she felt the misguided anger in the very breath of Tyran’s army dissipate and fade.

  They all finally realised, at long last, that she was not their enemy.

  She had saved them all, and from more than simply the storm.

  In fact, as one by one they looked over Reaper’s lifeless body, surrounded by blood red snow, melted into red slush, they realised that he hadn’t been either.

  Guilt rippled through Tyran’s ranks like poison.

  They’d already lost their will to fight and now their will to follow was fading just as quickly.

  Tyran sensed the change and felt a shiver trace up and down his spine.

  He was losing them.

  Desperate, knowing that not even the vast sums he was paying his enforcers would keep them at his side now they’d seen the good in Marcii’s strength, Tyran fought with his words to sway them back into his hold.

  “She’s a witch!” He cried, the silence echoing the desperation in his voice as he pleaded to what remained of the masses. “She’s deceiving you! Think of all the pain she’s caused you!”

  A few hesitated and glanced back at Marcii, unsure.

  Some of them expected her to fight her own corner, to convince them that they should ignore their Lord’s pleas.

  But instead the young Dougherty made not a sound, and her silence was more powerful than any word she could possibly have spoken.

  They turned back toward Tyran and began their slow, ominous advance.

  “Stop this!” He ordered, barking the command at his underlings with all the authority he could still muster. “I am your Lord! I command you to kill her!!”

  But all his desperate efforts to regain control fell on deaf ears.

  Cruelty had been his weapon. But such a tool is dangerous and can spread further than you intend.

  “SHE’S A WITCH!!” He suddenly screamed, beyond desperate now. “Deliver her punishment!! KILL HER!!”

  At long last the smokescreen all about them had lifted and Tyran’s people turned on him in rueful anger.

  Dropping their weapons, for they were of no use for this task, they descended upon him with hungry eyes and vengeful hands.

  Marcii closed her eyes and turned away, burying her head into Kaylm’s shoulder, unable to watch. The young Evans kept his eyes trained upon the sight however, somehow unable to tear his own gaze away.

  For some reason, despite everything that had happened, it was something he felt he needed to see.

  Perhaps it was a form of reconciliation for him.

  He wasn’t entirely sure.

  But that didn’t really matter.

  Either way, as he watched his once fellow townsfolk tear their Lord Tyran down from his podium, kicking and screaming, Kaylm felt a certain sense of closure.

  With their bare hands they pulled and wrenched at his clothes and his body until he no longer had the strength to fight
back.

  The sound of gruesome pops and rips echoed out across the now not so abandoned Ravenhead, as the newly freed people of Newmarket tore Tyran to pieces.

  His blood stained the already disgusting ground afresh as his arms and legs were loosed from his torso. His flesh littered the ground in a hundred and more separate places, and after much effort even his head found its way unceremoniously across the shattered rooftops.

  Marcii took Kaylm’s hand and squeezed it tightly, as if it had always belonged there. She tried with endless futility to ignore the horrible sounds of torture and death echoing all around her.

  In some ways, she supposed, she should have been pleased.

  The ghastly sounds did, after all, signal the end of the reign of a tyrant.

  Nevertheless, Marcii couldn’t help but cringe and wince, as she waited for the ever dreadful judgement of man to pass.

  Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, the sounds slowly blurred and faded away and the hordes vanished off into the distance with their bloodied prize.

  Exhaling a shuddering sigh, Marcii breathed into Kaylm’s shoulder and tried not to think on all that had been lost that day.

  A rare stillness and quiet consumed them, enveloping the pair like a vast chasm that descended over them.

  But, as it never seems to, the blissful silence did not last.

  A single, menacing, bloodthirsty chuckle pierced the suddenly quiet night, sending chills through the very earth itself.

  “Well…” Alistair breathed calmly, the sound of his voice terrifying in the darkness beneath the stars. “Wasn’t that quite the spectacle…”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Scoffing aloud obnoxiously, Alistair surveyed the bloodied, littered battlefield scattered all around him. Even in the still dark night his perfect coal eyes saw the limbless, ruined remains of both wolf and man strewn carelessly all about.

  There was still a little movement here and there as the odd, mortally wounded survivor shifted their weight slightly in a desperate attempt to find aid.

  He grinned cruelly and his eyes glinted darkly, knowing no help would come to them.

  Looking down and sneering at the sight of Reaper’s massive, lifeless carcass, the old man who was more creature than anything else felt not even the slightest pang of guilt. He glanced up and caught Marcii’s eyes as she finally turned from where she’d buried her head in Kaylm’s shoulder.

  They held each other’s gaze for a minute, not saying another word.

  It was as if a challenge hung in the blackened air between them, daring one to act before the other.

  Alistair wouldn’t budge.

  Eventually, sighing heavily, Marcii stepped out from her Kaylm’s protective embrace and faced Alistair head on.

  She skimmed between frozen blood, motionless bodies and hardened entrails as she paced over to him, keeping her eyes trained upon his malignant, mocking stare.

  Stopping short just half a dozen feet or so of where Alistair stood, Marcii glanced down at Reaper’s body and pain stung sharply in her chest, hardening her resolve yet even further.

  Alistair eyed her the whole time, his gaze calculating and expectant.

  Squaring her shoulders to face him directly, Marcii set her feet and clenched her fists, drawing upon her seemingly endless defiance.

  “This is your last chance…” She warned, her voice edgy and furious.

  After everything that he’d done, whether it was his fault or not, Alistair didn’t deserve yet another opportunity for redemption.

  But Marcii knew that, if she did not offer it, nobody ever would.

  It was important, Marcii decided, in this world of such hatred and violence, that somebody did.

  “Let that be enough bloodshed…” She went on. “Let’s end this peacefully. I don’t want to see any more futile deaths…”

  For a moment, unbelievably, it seemed as if Alistair was considering her plea, for his eyes turned thoughtful and his expression considerate. Marcii was shocked and couldn’t keep from letting her surprise show in her expression.

  That was her biggest mistake however, for as astonishment and disbelief crept across her face, Alistair’s features twisted and contorted into a cruel, satisfied sneer.

  It filled him with joy afresh to see he’d managed to give her a moment of hope, only to then wrench it from her grasp.

  Marcii’s eyes hardened and her pleasant surprise faded all too quickly, as she realised what he’d done.

  Again, and even more heavily than ever, she let out a deep sigh.

  Had there not been enough suffering today?

  The evidence of it lay all around them.

  But she knew he wasn’t going to change.

  He was too full of hatred.

  Too bitter and twisted.

  Smiling, Alistair raised his hand, still clutching the blood smeared blade that he’d killed Reaper with between his fingers, and pointed it at Marcii, levelling it with her head.

  “You…” He breathed, and the sound passed his lips as if it were the most momentous in centuries.

  Perhaps it was.

  “You need to die…”

  Marcii swallowed heavily, but didn’t once let herself falter.

  She held his gaze with eyes steadfast and unwavering, expecting little else from the monster stood before her.

  Alistair’s hand shifted to the left slightly, aiming the blade over her shoulder and towards Kaylm.

  “Then…” He went on. “When you’re cold and stiff, I’m going to gut your whelp too…”

  His words were like cast iron stones that weighed down on Marcii’s every thought and emotion.

  “So be it.” She replied firmly, steeling herself for what would undoubtedly be his relentless attempt at revenge.

  The smile that had danced across his lips faded into a grim scowl.

  He set his jaw and bared his teeth, probably even unaware that he was doing so. These were things so ingrained in his very being by now that they were quite simply a part of him.

  A part of who he’d become.

  Of the creature that he was.

  “This is the end…” He growled at her.

  Marcii nodded slowly, knowing his words were true, though she doubted that their thoughts danced with any more unison than that.

  “It is…” She agreed quietly.

  His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Marcii was not hiding anything.

  She didn’t know how this ended, she just knew that it needed to, one way or another.

  “So it is…”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Mother Nature had had enough.

  Alistair had taken one too many liberties, and Her endless patience had finally worn thin.

  Now, at long last, he’d gone yet another step too far.

  Marcii realised something then, remembering all of a sudden a thought she’d had not too long ago in Raven’s Keep. It had been a notion about the decision of where their fates lay. Only now did she understand that it was indeed Mother Nature who was the one making those decisions.

  Also, for some reason, she recalled something that Reaper had once told her, what felt like many moons ago now.

  He’d said that Mother Nature did not, and would not, interfere with the workings of man. That She had no interest in human quarrels, for they were often petty and always pointless.

  Marcii smiled, though it was not with joy.

  Clearly, Alistair had pushed Mother Nature past the point of no return.

  This was Her world, and She wasn’t going to let anybody ruin it.

  Not if She had Her say about it.

  In fact, She was the only one who had any say about it.

  She is understanding, patient, forgiving even.

  But Alistair had used up every last ounce of Her patience now, and it had well and truly worn through.

  Nobody else was going to die at the hands of this monster.

  Her only regret, though She knew without a shadow of a doubt what
She needed to do, was that, undoubtedly, he was one of Her own.

  He always had been.

  He would forever remain a Storm Born.

  Alistair launched himself at Marcii with speed and power like she’d never seen, driven by pure fury and rage, bubbling deep within his soul.

  Beneath his feet the slush churned and sprayed disgusting, red slop up in all directions.

  Marcii instinctively threw herself to one side to evade the attack.

  But Alistair was too quick to be taken for a fool. His hand whipped across his body even as Marcii dove away. His blade caught her side and drew blood with sharp pain.

  Marcii cried out and clutched at her ribs as she sprawled to the floor, trying desperately to roll away.

  “Marcii!” Kaylm cried out, darting forward to her aid, his eyes flaring.

  Alistair smiled viciously.

  He drew his hand back purposefully, preparing to launch the blade through the air with almighty force, aiming straight for Kaylm’s chest.

  The boy’s death would hurt Marcii far more than any blade ever could, and Alistair knew it.

  Marcii looked up from the floor in horror.

  She felt as if the world moved in slow motion for those few seconds, as she saw exactly what was unfolding before her very eyes.

  She was about to lose Kaylm.

  The thought was unbearable.

  She’d already lost so much; she couldn’t lose him too.

  “No!!” She cried out helplessly.

  But it was too late.

  There was nothing she could do.

  Then, suddenly, throwing him off balance just as he loosed the blade from his grasp, something struck Alistair square in the face.

  Even though she’d been looking straight at him, whatever it was moved so fast that Marcii had seen only a blur of movement.

  The soaring blade flew through the air towards Kaylm as he raced forward. But, thanks to whatever it was that had struck Alistair, it did not sail true. The spinning sword missed the young Evans by mere inches and skittered off against the cold, slushy cobblestones.

  “What the…?” Alistair started, but he wasn’t given time to finish.