‘You seem to be in good spirits, but in truth you have never been lower or closer to final defeat!’ Grimalkin said when the laughter finally ceased.
‘You are proud and arrogant, witch!’ growled the Fiend. ‘With your two eyes you see less than I do. Siscoi is the greatest of my present servants – soon he will free me from captivity and take all your blood. How reckless you are, witch, to bring me so close to him! You could not have made his task easier!’
‘You have already lost many servants, fool,’ Grimalkin retorted. ‘Prepare to lose another! They have died or been defeated by those who face you now. We are the most powerful of your many enemies! Before this night is through, Siscoi will be destroyed or damaged so badly that he will be of no further use to your cause.’
The Fiend laughed again. ‘It will not happen, witch, because this boy, upon whose scrawny shoulders rests your slim hope of victory, is a coward. He has already fled in terror from my servants, and will do so again!’
Did he mean when I was down in the cellar of the Fresque house? I’d panicked and run, true, but later I’d gathered my courage and returned. I was about to protest when Grimalkin smiled at me and laid a finger against her lips, indicating that I should not reply.
‘In the midnight hour this boy will do what is necessary!’ she said.
‘Then here is something for him to think about. As I warned you, Thomas Ward, your brother James is dead. My servants cut his throat and threw him into a ditch. You will never see him again in this world.’
The Fiend was the Father of Lies but my instincts cried out that he was telling the truth. My heart felt as heavy as lead. I had lost my brother.
Grimalkin lifted up the head by its horns, then moved towards the forge and held it out over the glowing coals. Soon the Fiend started to scream, and a smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils. It was a long time before she stuffed the mouth with nettles and twigs and returned the head to the leather sack. Finally she handed it to Alice to hide with her magic.
* * *
We set off for Mistress Fresque’s house soon after eleven. Our intention was to disrupt the ritual of the witches and, if possible, kill them all.
We climbed up above the town and started up Bent Lane, beneath the arch of trees. It was very dark, but my eyes were gradually adjusting. ‘Won’t they sniff us out?’ I whispered.
The Pendle witches had their own defences against detection; seventh sons of seventh sons also had immunity, but these Romanian witches were different. Who knew what powers they might possess?
‘Alice will take care of it soon,’ Grimalkin told me. ‘She will cloak us. Our attack will come as a complete surprise.’
I shivered. It was good to have someone so formidable on our side, but the thought of Alice’s power made me increasingly uneasy.
Suddenly we heard something large lumbering along beside us.
‘It’s a moroi!’ said Grimalkin, drawing a blade.
‘As long as we stay on the path, we’re safe,’ I told her. ‘Save your blade. I have weapons of my own, but they aren’t made out of metal. Judd Brinscall taught me an easier way to do the job.’
So saying, I reached down and plucked two big handfuls of grass, then tossed them towards the outline of the huge bear. Instantly it dropped down on all fours and sniffed at the scattered grass.
‘It’s counting!’ I said. ‘Romanian elementals are obsessive – it is compelled to count and re-count every blade of grass. It can’t move on until it’s finished.’
We left the trapped moroi and continued along the path until the house loomed up before us.
Alice held up her hand, signalling that we should halt. Then she began to mutter a spell under her breath. Instantly a cold shiver ran the length of my spine – a reaction to the dark magic that was being used.
At last Alice fell silent, sucked in a deep breath, then pointed towards the door. ‘It’s done,’ she said softly. ‘We are cloaked – hidden from enemy eyes.’
Avoiding the tree that grew up out of the path, we approached the front door. I remembered how Judd had dealt with doors, using his boot to break it down. But this was a house where daemons had lived, and it was shrouded with illusions. Stealth was a better option here. We hoped to take the witches by surprise.
The door was locked, but my special key made short work of it, and moments later we were in the library. It was just as I had first seen it with my master. Above us was the atrium, lined with books right up to that spectacular conical roof. On the ground floor, one book caught my eye immediately. I walked up to the shelf and pointed it out to Grimalkin and Alice. It was the Doomdryte.
‘We need to destroy it now,’ I told them. ‘According to Judd, it’s the source of power for the house – it makes the illusions possible.’
‘No,’ Grimalkin said firmly. ‘There is no time. Such a book will be defended by powerful spells. And do you want to alert our enemies? Alice will counter the illusions anyway. Later I will penetrate its defences and then burn this house to the ground.’
‘If you do, seize the Doomdryte and give it to me or my master to burn. We have to be sure. We need to see it destroyed with our own eyes!’
‘I will do as you ask,’ Grimalkin said. ‘But first we must deal with our enemies.’
I opened the far door, and instead of steps leading down, we saw a small unfurnished ante-room and, on the far side, another door, which was ajar.
Through the gap, we could make out five witches standing in a large room. The furniture had been pushed back against the far wall so that the floorboards were clear. Two were standing guard, arms folded; one was staring directly at us, so it was fortunate that we were cloaked by Alice’s magic. The other three wore expressions of intense concentration and were behaving most curiously. They were crouched on all fours, facing each other, their noses almost touching. Twigs were tangled in their hair, but not randomly; there was artifice in their arrangement. The head of each witch was adorned with a spiky pentacle. There was blood in amongst the hair – evidence that they had been driven into their scalps as part of the ritual to summon Siscoi.
Grimalkin stepped forward, preparing to attack, but then she halted and stretched out her right hand, as if encountering some invisible obstruction. She turned back to face us, clearly annoyed. ‘There is a defensive barrier,’ she whispered.
Alice came alongside her and stretched out both hands. ‘It’s strong – very strong,’ she said. ‘Ain’t going to stop us, but it’ll take time.’ She began to chant under her breath, but she wasn’t the only one.
The lips of the three crouching witches were moving too, but no sound could be heard. Instead, something thin and white emerged from each of their mouths – three needle-sharp pieces of white bone. Suddenly the three witches scuttled backwards, moving in tandem, as if controlled by a single mind. Next they spat out the pieces of bone, which fell so that their six points formed a triangle. It seemed impossible that such large objects had been able to fit in their mouths. Immediately this process was repeated, and a second triangle lay on the floorboards touching the first.
When this procedure happened for the third time, I realized their intention: to create a five-pointed star, the inner symbol of a magic pentacle.
‘Quick!’ I hissed at Alice. ‘We need to stop this before it’s too late!’
She nodded. Despite her power, the combined spells of the Romanian witches were proving a match for her. There were beads of sweat on her forehead. Grimalkin was now gripping a dagger in each hand, tensed for the attack. But she had to wait.
As the fifth bone triangle fell into place, the three witches let out a whoop of triumph. Then, with the knuckles of their left hands, they rapped in unison three times upon the wooden floor. The pentacle of white bone began to glow; it floated upwards, spinning and growing steadily larger as it did so.
The bone pentacle must be the portal. Siscoi was about to use it to enter our world!
At that moment Alice finally broke through
the barrier holding us back, and Grimalkin ran forward. The cloak that hid us from the witches’ sight gave way at the same instant, and the two guards threw themselves between Grimalkin and their sisters. They were strong and fierce, but neither of them was a match for the witch assassin. Blood sprayed upwards as she jabbed and slashed; there were brief screams, and then they were no more.
I was already hard on Grimalkin’s heels. Rather than rising up to meet us, the three remaining witches scuttled towards us on all fours, claws and teeth ready to tear us apart. I stabbed downwards with my staff, taking the nearest through the heart, pushing my blade deep into the wood beneath the twitching body.
I looked up. Grimalkin had killed one and was busy dispatching the other, but the spinning pentacle was directly above her. Within it I saw the bestial, scaly face and arms of the vampire god, lips drawn back in a snarl to reveal needle-like teeth and long fangs. He seemed to be immersed in a thick, viscous red liquid. What could it be other than his favoured blood? There were many different domains within the dark, each shaped by and suited to meet the needs and pleasures of its owner. What could be more appropriate here than an ocean of blood?
There was a sound like water falling over a great cataract down upon rocks – but it was blood. It surged out through the mouth of the pentacle and crashed down onto the floor of the chamber, directly in front of Grimalkin. Within it we could see Siscoi twisting gracefully, mouth wide open, razor-sharp fangs ready for the witch assassin.
FOR A MOMENT my heart was in my mouth. Grimalkin seemed as good as dead. But Siscoi appeared to pass right through her, before soaring away to disappear through the far wall. He was still in spirit form, I realized, and as yet could do nothing. But he was on his way to the offal pit, where a new host body lay waiting to be possessed. It was less than twenty minutes to midnight.
‘We’re too late!’ I cried.
Grimalkin was standing there, covered in blood, as if transfixed. Even she knew that our cause was lost.
Suddenly I heard a voice in my head. There was no mistaking its owner. It was Mam!
Hesitate and you will all be destroyed. Take the fight to the god! Deal with him before he emerges! It is your only chance! But only you can do it, son. Only you can slay the vampire god and hope to survive!
Of course, I could not actually kill one of the Old Gods. What human could hope to do that? But I knew what Mam meant. If I could slay the host, then Siscoi would be unable to use it and the immediate threat would be gone.
‘We need to kill the host in the pit before he gets out!’ I shouted. Then, without further explanation, I turned and sprinted out of the house, with Grimalkin and Alice at my heels. As we ran down the path, we saw the moroi, snout to the ground, still counting the blades of grass. Before long, I headed into the trees and realized that there would be no difficulty in finding the offal pit: the beam of dark red light was visible beyond the trees ahead. When I reached it, I saw that the stone lid of the offal pit had been dragged to one side. That would save us time and effort. I threw down my staff and pulled off my cloak. I would use the Destiny Blade and Bone Cutter against Siscoi.
Grimalkin placed her hand on my shoulder. ‘No!’ she said. ‘I will kill him, not you!’
‘I heard Mam’s voice,’ I told her. ‘She said that only I can do this deed and hope to survive.’
‘I will come with you anyway. I cannot let you face Siscoi alone. Even your mother cannot tell Grimalkin what to do!’
I shook my head. ‘No. If I die, you must fight on. You must continue to keep the Fiend’s head away from his servants for as long as possible. With Alice’s help you may still eventually find a way to destroy him.’
‘Only the three of us working together can hope to achieve that,’ Grimalkin said firmly. ‘We need to survive, and in order to do so must stand as one. Alice will guard the entrance to the pit and, if he gets past us, attempt to blast Siscoi with her magic. We two will go down, but I will leave Siscoi to you. The moroi guarded the area above ground; it may well be that other protectors of the host wait below. The stone has been removed.’
I nodded in agreement. Her words made sense.
Alice came to my side and gave me a hug. ‘Oh, please be careful, Tom. What would I do if anything happened to you?’
‘Be ready, Alice, in case I fail. Above all, stop Siscoi. Don’t let him get the Fiend’s head,’ I urged her.
‘I doubt if I can stop him, but I’ll try, Tom,’ she replied.
I walked to the edge of the offal pit and looked down. Part of me thought that I was probably going to my death, but at that moment I accepted it calmly. It was my duty: this was the task for which my master had prepared me; all my training had been to this end. Sometimes, I knew, in order to protect others, a spook must make the supreme sacrifice.
The light shone up into my eyes, dazzling me, and I was forced to turn away. I would have to avoid looking into it directly.
I glanced up, gave Alice a smile, nodded to Grimalkin and then entered the pit feet first. To one side the opening was broad; I chose the other, narrower side. It was like climbing down a chimney, and I was able to use my knees, feet and elbows to control my descent. But the task was made more difficult by the slime that covered the rocks – the residue of the offal and blood that had been tipped into the pit by the witches. There was an awful metallic smell of blood mixed with a stench of rot, decay and putrid flesh. Bile came up into my throat and I almost vomited. I was forced to halt for a moment until my stomach settled. I regretted not cutting a piece of cloth from my cloak to tie around my nose and mouth, but it was too late now.
A light shower of pebbles and soil fell onto my head and shoulders, dislodged by the feet of Grimalkin, who had followed me into the pit. I continued downwards, and soon, below me, I heard breathing and then moaning, as if there was something huge suffering down there.
At one stage in my descent, the red light was partially obscured by an outcrop of rock far beneath me, so I was able to look down. I did so, and instantly regretted it. Immediately below me I saw a gigantic figure, human in form but perhaps twice my size. It was lying on a rocky ledge, writhing and taking deep shuddering breaths – and it was soon clear why. The huge face was corroded, the eyes empty sockets from which matter was weeping. This was the old, first host – the one Judd and I had damaged by tipping salt and iron down the fissure.
Was this movement the mindless reaction of that empty body, or was it conscious in some sense? I asked myself. Could it feel the effects of the damage like a sentient being? I felt certain that it could.
The minutes were ticking down towards midnight. The new host must lie further down the pit, below this one. I just wanted to complete my task, but something inside me couldn’t bear to see such suffering. Once I’d drawn level with the huge figure, I braced myself against the rock with my knees. I wouldn’t be able to reach it with the dagger, so I unsheathed the Destiny Blade. I judged the distance carefully, and even though I had to close my eyes at the last moment, I managed to do what was necessary, drawing the blade across the creature’s throat. When I opened my eyes again, the blood was gushing down over its chest and cascading into the fissure below.
The huge body convulsed, trembling as if fighting to break free of invisible chains; then it gave a sigh, slumped back against the rock and was still. Whatever life it had possessed was gone. I had performed an act of mercy – but had I also wasted precious time that I needed to deal with Siscoi?
I sheathed the sword and continued down. The rocks were now even more treacherous, coated as they were with fresh blood. At one point, dazzled by the light shining up, I slipped and momentarily lost my grip on the rock face. I froze for several moments, shaking with fear. I’d come close to disaster. Then I gathered my courage and continued my descent.
Soon I reached a wide ledge, where I was able to stand for a moment with my back to the rock and stretch my trembling arms and legs. I could see the next part of the descent below me, but on three sides
, shrouded in darkness, were what looked like the mouths of a number of caves. I suddenly realized that Grimalkin had been correct: other entities had indeed been placed on guard down here.
I could hear new sounds – the steady approach of boots, deep breathing, and finally growls of anger. A second later my enemies came into view, their eyes a sea of red points of light glittering in the darkness. The situation reminded me of the moment in the cellar when, faced with overwhelming odds, I had fled like a coward.
But this time I would not run. I drew Bone Cutter, gripping it in my right hand, wielding the Destiny Blade in my left. Grimalkin dropped down beside me, a blade in each hand, and we met them together. I glimpsed teeth and claws, and the stink of rancid strigoi breath washed over me, but I lunged out with my blades, feeling satisfaction as the dagger found flesh – though it was the dead flesh of a daemon. My sword, with its longer blade, was more likely to be successful: I struck the head from the nearest strigoi; it rolled across the floor and fell into the fissure. At my side Grimalkin was slashing to left and right with deadly intent, slicing heads from bodies and driving our enemies back with a ferocity that surpassed their own.
The strigoii were fast, but the fighting was at close quarters, hand to hand, denying them much of that advantage. I struck and struck again until the pressure eased. Then Grimalkin spun me towards the fissure and stood on guard, blades raised to meet the next onslaught.
‘Climb down now!’ she commanded. ‘There is little time. I will hold them back!’
I did not argue. It was surely almost midnight. Perhaps I was already too late; perhaps Siscoi had taken command of the host. I sheathed my sword and thrust Bone Cutter into my belt before easing myself down into the shaft and continuing my descent.
As I climbed down, the metallic clashes, grunts and screams of the battle above receded; soon they gave way to a different noise. I could hear breathing again . . . it was the new host. This time it would not be blind. The vampire god would already have taken possession of it, and at the stroke of midnight would be free to emerge from the pit.
The Spook's Blood Page 18