Street Witch: Book One by S. L. Prater

Author:S. L. Prater [Prater, S. L.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2021-03-08T16:00:00+00:00

As if in answer, the sound of desperate weeping echoed up from a copse of trees down the muddy hill, a stone’s throw away. The man howled so wildly, Marnie nearly mistook him for an animal.

“Who is that?” She narrowed her eyes on the trees, trying to see through them. There was something desperate and threatening in those cries. She didn’t dare turn her back on them.

The boy stared at his feet. “My father, the pastor of the Cloth.”

“Your father’s the pastor of Glint . . . then you live in the parsonage. Is the girl there your sister?”

He nodded. “Is Addie all right?” His face was earnest.

“She is. With time she will be even better.” Marnie stepped toward the trees carefully, checking her footing. The ground swayed beneath her, proving she wasn’t as recovered as she would have liked to be.

The boy caught up to her and grabbed her arm. “Don’t,” he whispered.

The wind turned. The trees swayed, carrying the crying howls of a devastated man and the stink of demon magic.

“I won’t let him hurt me,” Marnie said, teeth clenched.

“No. I don’t want you to hurt him.” He glanced at the spirit marking just below her collar.

Marnie digested his fear solemnly. Scaring others could have its advantages in dire situations. Like being magic drunk could also have its advantages. Marnie felt brave. Recklessly so. Much braver than she should have because the thick stink now in the air smelled as foul and powerful as any demon curse could, and she found herself walking toward it instead of running away from it.

“Go and hide,” she said sternly. The boy squeaked and hurriedly obeyed as Marnie marched for the trees.

The pastor of Glint howled up at the sky like a starving wolf looking for its pack. It did not take long to figure out what ailed him. The pastor, a tall thin man with thick brown hair, cried out in pain and panic, clutching a wooden prosthetic hand to his chest. Jutting out of his shoulder, through the cloth of his brown pastor’s stole, was a diseased hand, a demonic replacement, likely offered in exchange during a demon deal. It was shriveled and undersized.

He stared at it with wide, horror-filled eyes. “Why, why, why, please, someone help me . . .”

Marnie shushed him. “You’re terrifying your family.”

The pastor paced and whimpered. There was spittle on his chin. He had the wild eyes of a recently violent man, but Marnie could not find it in herself to be afraid of him.

She was disgusted. Her temper bubbled within her. Her gut did somersaults.

“Was it worth it?” she taunted him, and he finally fell quiet.

His red-rimmed eyes were full of unshed tears. “It tricked me,” he moaned, more drool running down his chin. “I never deserved to lose my hand. I wanted it restored to me. This thing”—he waved at the diseased hand jutting out of his shoulder—“this is not what I asked for.”

“Of course it tricked you. Demons are liars, and you’re a fool for dealing with it.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.