“So, as I said, I stopped Morgan in time. I terminated his apprenticeship and took the grimoire off him. Then his mother and I made him promise that he would leave Golgoth alone and not try to raise him again. She believed his promise, and for her sake I gave him every chance and always hoped that her faith in him would be justified. But as I’d stopped him part of the way through the ritual, some of the power of Golgoth had already awoken and attached itself to him. Your mother was right—this is going to be a bitter winter. I’m convinced that’s to do with Golgoth and Morgan. After Morgan left my care, he turned to the dark, and his powers have steadily increased. And he thinks that the grimoire will give him ultimate power.
“Already he can do things that a man shouldn’t. Some are little more than conjuring tricks, like changing the temperature in a room to impress the gullible. But now it seems that he can also bind the dead to his will—not just ghosts, but also spirits that hover in limbo between this life and the other side. It pains me to say this, lad, but it looks very bad. I really do fear that Morgan has the ability to hurt your poor dad’s spirit. . . .”
The Spook looked up at the skylight, then down at the writing desk. He shook his head sadly. “Well, lad, get yourself downstairs and we’ll talk this through some more.”
Fifteen minutes later, my master was sitting there quietly in Meg’s rocking chair and pea soup was simmering away in a pan.
“Got much appetite, lad?” he asked.
“I’ve not eaten since yesterday,” I told him.
At that he grinned, revealing the gap where the boggart had knocked out his front tooth, got up, put two bowls on the table and ladled hot soup into them. Soon I was dunking bread into the delicious steaming soup. The Spook didn’t bother with the bread, but he did empty his bowl.
“I am very sorry your dad’s passed away,” he said, pushing the empty bowl away from him. “He should have had nothing to fear after death. Unfortunately, Morgan’s using the power of Golgoth to hurt your dad and get at you through him. But don’t worry, lad, we’re going to put a stop to it just as soon as we can. And as for the other nonsense, Morgan’s not my son and never was.” He looked straight into my eyes again. “Well, do you believe me?”
I nodded, but I can’t have done it convincingly enough, because the Spook sighed and shook his head. “Well, lad, either he’s a liar or I am. You’d better decide which one of us it is. If there’s no trust between us, there’s no point in you carrying on as my apprentice. But one thing’s for sure, I wouldn’t let you go off with him. Before that I’d take you by the scruff of your neck, give you back to your mother, and let her knock some sense into that thick head.”
His tone was harsh, and after all that had happened I felt really upset. “You couldn’t take me back to my mother,” I told him bitterly. “I was too late for the funeral and I didn’t even get to see her. Afterward she went off somewhere—maybe back to her own land. I don’t think she’ll be coming back.”
“Well, give her space, lad. She’s just lost her husband and needs time to mourn and think. But you’ll be seeing her again and not before too long, I’m sure. And that’s not prophecy. It’s good common sense. If she goes, she goes, but she’ll want to say a proper farewell to all her sons before she does.
“Anyway, it’s a terrible thing that Morgan’s been doing, but don’t worry—I will find him and stop him once and for all.”
I was too weary to say anything, so I just nodded my head. I hoped he was right.
CHAPTER XVIII
The Chapel of the Dead
FOR all the Spook’s promises, it wasn’t possible to deal with Morgan right away. For the next two weeks the weather was so bad, we hardly ever went outdoors. Blizzard after blizzard surged up the clough, whirling snow against the windows and burying the front of the house almost up to the level of the first-floor bedrooms. I was starting to believe that Golgoth had indeed been awakened, and I was grateful that Shanks had had the foresight to deliver extra provisions. When the Tuesday that Morgan had appointed for our meeting arrived, I was nervous and half expected to see him turn up at the house. But the blizzards were so bad that no one would have made it across the moor. Still, every hour trapped in that house felt like torture. I was desperate to get out and find Morgan and put an end to my father’s misery.
My master made us carry on with our usual routine of sleeping, eating, and lessons during the blizzard, but something new was added. Every afternoon he descended the steps to the cellar to talk to Meg and take her something to eat. Usually it was just a few biscuits, but sometimes he carried the remainder of our lunch with him. I wondered what the two of them talked about when he was down there, though I knew better than to ask. We’d agreed no more secrets, but I realized the Spook still expected some privacy.
The other two witches had to manage the best they could, chewing on worms, slugs, and anything else they could grub out of the damp earth, but Meg was still a special case. I half expected that, one day soon, the Spook would give Meg her herb tea again and bring her up from the cellar. She was certainly a far better cook than either of us, but after all that had happened, I couldn’t help feeling safer with her down in the pit. I did worry about the Spook, though. Had he gone soft? After all his warnings about not trusting women, here he was breaking all his own rules again. I felt like telling him as much, but how could I when I could see that he was upset about Meg?
He still wasn’t eating properly, and one morning his eyes were red and swollen, as if he’d been rubbing them. I even wondered if he’d been crying, and that made me think about how I would behave in a similar situation. What if I were the Spook, with Alice down there in the pit? Wouldn’t I be doing the same? I was also wondering how Alice was getting on. If the weather ever improved, I’d decided to ask my master if I could pay a visit to Andrew’s shop to visit her again.
Then, unexpectedly, one morning the weather did change. I’d kept thinking about the threat to Dad, hoping that, first chance, we’d be off after Morgan. But it wasn’t to be. With the sunshine came spooks’ business. My master and I were called away east, to Platt Farm. It was boggart trouble, or so it seemed.
It was an hour or so before we could get started, because first the Spook cut himself a new staff of rowan wood, and when we finally arrived, after a two-hour slog through the deep snow, there was no sign at all that a boggart had been in the vicinity and the farmer apologized profusely for being mistaken, blaming it on his wife, who was prone to sleepwalking. He said she’d moved things in the kitchen and clattered pots and pans to disturb the household, waking up the following morning without any memory of having done so. He seemed embarrassed at having called us out for nothing and almost too eager to pay the Spook for his trouble.
I was furious that we’d wasted precious time and told the Spook as much on the way back. He agreed. “I smell a rat,” he said. “Unless I’m mistaken, lad, we’ve been sent on a wild goose chase. Ever seen anyone so keen to put his hand in his pocket and pay?”
I shook my head and we doubled our pace, the Spook out in the lead, eager to get home. We arrived to find the back door was already open. The lock had been forced. After checking that the cellar door and the gate were still secure, the Spook told me to wait in the kitchen and went upstairs. Five minutes later he came down, shaking his head angrily.
“The grimoire’s been taken!” he said. “Well, lad, we certainly know who we’re looking for! Who else would it be but Morgan? He’s got Golgoth in his power enough to stop the snow, and then he plots and schemes to rob us.”
It seemed odd to me that Morgan hadn’t tried to steal the grimoire before. It would have been easy enough during the summers, when Meg was locked in the room on the cellar steps and the upper part of the house was empty. But then I remembered what the Spook had told me—the promise Morgan had made to his mother not to try and raise Golgoth again. Perhaps he’d kept his word until his mother died; now after he’d mourned her, he felt free to do whatever he wanted.
>
“Well, there’s little we can do today but get ourselves down to Adlington and ask that brother of mine to come up and fix the door,” said the Spook. “But don’t mention the grimoire. I’ll tell him that in my own time. And on our way, we’ll pay a little visit to Moor View Farm. I doubt I’ll find Morgan there, but I’ve a few things I need to ask the Hursts.”
I wondered why he didn’t want to tell Andrew about the grimoire, but I could tell that he wasn’t in the mood for questions.
We set off right away for Moor View Farm. When we arrived, the Spook went in alone to talk to the Hursts and told me to wait in the yard. There was no sign at all of Morgan. My master spent some time in the farmhouse and came out frowning. Tight-lipped, he led the way to Andrew’s shop.
The Spook behaved as if it were just a brotherly visit, making me wonder again why he made no mention at all of what had happened. It was good to see Alice, though. She made us a late supper, and we warmed ourselves in front of the big fire in the living room before seating ourselves at the table. After we’d finished eating, the Spook turned to Alice.
“That was a good supper, girl,” he said, giving her a faint smile, “but now I’ve got private business to attend to with my brother and Tom. So it’s best if you take yourself off to bed!”
“Why should I go up to bed?” she asked, bristling with anger. “I live here, not you.”
“Please, Alice, do as John says,” Andrew said mildly. “I’m sure there’s a very good reason for his not wanting you to hear what’s about to be said.”
Alice gave Andrew a withering look, but it was his house and she obeyed, almost slamming the door and stamping heavily up the stairs.
“The least she knows, the better,” said the Spook. “I’ve just been to see the Hursts and had a bit of a talk with the wife about why young Alice left. It seemed she quarreled with Morgan and went off in a temper, but in the couple of days before that, they’d been quite close and spent a lot of time together in his downstairs room. It may be nothing. It may well be that he just tried to win her over in the way he tried it with the lad,” he said, nodding toward me. “Tried and failed. But just in case, it’s better that she doesn’t hear this. This morning Morgan broke into my house and stole the grimoire.”
Andrew looked really concerned and opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “That’s not fair!” I told the Spook. “Alice hates Morgan. She told me so herself. Why else would she have left? There’s no way she would have helped him.”
The Spook shook his head angrily. “Some lessons are going to take longer to hammer into your daft head than others!” he snapped. “After all this time, you still haven’t learned that the girl can never be fully trusted. She’ll always need watching. That’s why I’ve made sure she’s close by. Other than that, I wouldn’t allow her within ten miles of you.”
“Look, hang on a minute,” Andrew interrupted. “You say Morgan’s got the grimoire? How could you be so foolish, John? You should have burned that infernal book while you had the chance! If he tries that ritual again, anything might happen. I was hoping to see a few more summers before my time is up. It should have been destroyed. I just can’t understand why you’ve kept it all these years!”
“Look, Andrew, that’s my business, and you’ll just have to trust me on that one. Let’s just say that I had my reasons.”
“Emily, eh?”
The Spook ignored him.
“What’s done is done and I wish Morgan had never taken the grimoire and it was still safe under lock and key.”
“So do I!” Andrew said, raising his voice and becoming angrier by the second. “Your duty is the County. You’ve said that often enough. What you’ve done in keeping that book rather than burning it amounts to a dereliction of that duty!”
“Well, brother, I thank you for your hospitality, but not for those harsh words,” the Spook said, an edge of anger in his own voice. “I don’t interfere in your business, and you should trust me to do what’s best for everyone. I just called here to let you know the situation we’re in, but it’s been a long hard day and it’s time we were off to our beds before we say things we’ll really regret!”
With that, we left Andrew’s in a hurry. As we walked down the street, I remembered why we’d visited in the first place.
“We didn’t ask Andrew to fix the lock,” I said. “Shall I run back and tell him?”
“No you won’t, lad,” said the Spook angrily. “Not even if he were the last locksmith in the County! I’d rather fix it myself.”
“Well, now the weather’s improved,” I asked, “could we start searching for Morgan tomorrow? I’m worried about Dad—”
“Leave that to me, lad,” the Spook said, his voice softer. “I’ve thought of a few places Morgan might have gone to ground. Best thing is if I set off well before dawn tomorrow.”
“Can I come with you?” I asked.
“Nay, lad. I’ve more chance of catching him napping by myself. Trust me. It’s for the best.”
I did trust the Spook. Although I could see some sense in what he was saying, I still wanted to go with him. I tried one more time to persuade him but realized I was just wasting my breath. If the Spook makes up his mind, you just have to accept it and let him get on with it.
The following morning, when I came down into the kitchen, there was no sign of the Spook. His cloak and staff had been taken, and as promised, he’d left the house long before dawn in search of Morgan. After I’d finished my breakfast, my master still hadn’t returned and I realized that his absence provided a chance just too good to miss. I was curious about Meg and decided to pay a quick visit to the cellar to see how she was doing. So I helped myself to the key on top of the bookcase, lit a candle, and went down the steps. I went through the gate and locked it behind me, continuing downward toward the cellar, but when I reached the landing with the three doors a voice suddenly called out from the middle cell.
“John! John! Is that you? Have you booked our passage?”
I came to a sudden halt. It was Meg’s voice. He’d released her from the pit and put her in a cell where she’d be more comfortable. So he had softened. No doubt she’d be back in the kitchen within days. But what did she mean by “booked our passage”? Was she going on a voyage? Was the Spook going with her?
Suddenly I heard Meg sniff loudly three times. “Well, boy, what are you doing down here? Come to the door so that I can see you better.”
She’d sniffed me out, so it was no use creeping back up the steps. No doubt she’d tell the Spook where I’d been. So I walked up to the cell door and peered inside, taking care not to get too close.
Meg’s pretty face smiled at me through the bars. It wasn’t the grim smile she’d given when we’d struggled. To my surprise, it was almost friendly.
“How are you, Meg?” I asked politely.
“I’ve been better and I’ve been worse,” Meg replied. “No thanks to you. But what’s done is done, and I don’t blame you for it. You are what you are. You and John have a lot in common. But I will give you one piece of advice—that’s if you’re willing to listen.”
“Of course I’ll listen,” I told her.
“In that case, heed what I have to say. Treat the girl well. Alice cares about you. Treat her better than John treated me and you won’t be sorry. It doesn’t need to end up this way.”
“I like Alice a lot and I’ll do my best.”
“See that you do.”
“I heard you ask about booking a passage,” I said, turning to leave. “What did you mean?”
“That’s none of your business, boy,” Meg replied. “You could ask John, but I don’t think you’ll bother because you’d only get the same answer from him. And I don’t think he’d want you prowling about down here without his permission, would he?”
With that I muttered good-bye and set off back up the stairs, taking care to lock the gate behind me. So it seemed the Spook still had his secrets, and I suspected he always would. No sooner
had I put the key back in its rightful place than he returned.
“Did you find Morgan?” I asked, disappointed. I already knew the answer. Had he done so, Morgan would have been with him, bound as a prisoner.
“No, lad, sorry to say that I didn’t. I thought I might find him lurking in the abandoned tower at Rivington,” said the Spook. “He’s been there recently, all right—no doubt up to no good. But it seems to me that he never settles in one place for long. Still, don’t worry yourself, I’ll search again first thing tomorrow.
“Anyway, in the meantime you can do something for me. This afternoon, have a wander down into Adlington and ask that brother of mine if he’d mind coming up to fix the back door,” said the Spook. “And tell him I’m sorry that heated words passed between us and that one day he’ll understand that I did things for the best.”
The afternoon lessons went on later than usual, and it was less than two hours before dark when, carrying my rowan staff, I finally set off for Adlington.
Andrew made me welcome, and his face broke into a smile when I passed on the Spook’s apology: he quickly agreed to fix the door within a day or so. Later I spent about fifteen minutes talking to Alice, although she seemed a bit cool. It was probably because she’d been sent to bed the previous night. After saying my good-byes, I set off back toward the Spook’s house, eager to return before it was quite dark.
I hadn’t been walking more than five minutes when I heard a faint noise behind. I turned around and saw someone following me up the hill. It was Alice, so I waited for her to catch up. She was wearing her woolen coat, and as she approached, her pointy shoes made neat footprints in the snow.
“Up to something, you are,” Alice said with a smile. “What was it that they didn’t want me to hear last night? You can tell me, can’t you, Tom? We don’t have any secrets. Been through too much together, we have.”
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