I nodded. That had been a close-run thing and had nearly cost me my life.
“We must be grateful that he’s sleeping once more,” said my master, “but others are very much awake. Take your mam’s homeland, Greece. As I told you yesterday, a fierce female deity called the Ordeen, who is worshipped by the maenads, has caused bloodshed there on a vast scale since time immemorial. No doubt she’s at the heart of all that your mam’s trying to contend with.
“There’s not a lot I know about the Ordeen. But apparently she arrives with her followers, who kill everything that moves for miles around. And the maenads, who are usually scattered across Greece, gather in large numbers to await her arrival. They’re like vultures ready to feast upon the flesh of the dead and the dying. For them it’s a harvest, a time of plenty, the reward they receive for their worship of the Ordeen and her followers. No doubt your mam will have lots more to tell us—there are blank pages in my bestiary that need to be filled.”
The Spook’s bestiary, one of the biggest and most interesting books in his library, was full of all manner of terrible creatures. But there were gaps where information was scarce, and he updated it whenever he could.
“I do know, however, that unlike the other Old Gods, the Ordeen doesn’t need human assistance to pass through a portal into this world. Even the Fiend needed the help of the Pendle witches. But it seems that she can pass through her portal at will—and also return when she pleases.”
“The followers who arrive with her through the portal—what are they like?” I asked.
“They are denizens of the dark, demons and elementals. The demons mostly have the appearance of men or women but possess terrible strength and are very cruel. In addition there are the vaengir—flying lamia witches. So many have now joined her that only a few remain elsewhere. They live alone, or in pairs like your mam’s sisters. Imagine what it must be like when the Ordeen arrives—a host of those creatures swooping down from the sky to rend and tear the flesh of their victims! It doesn’t bear thinking about, lad!”
It certainly didn’t. Mam’s two sisters were flying lamias. They’d fought on our side during the battle on Pendle Hill, wreaking havoc on the three witch clans who opposed us.
“Aye, it’s a dangerous place, Greece. Your mam has much to contend with. . . . There are also feral lamia witches, the ones who scuttle about on four limbs. They’re very common in Greece, especially in the mountains. After this lesson’s over I suggest you go up to the library, look them up in my bestiary, revise your knowledge of them, and enter a summary of what you find in your notebook.”
“You mentioned that elementals live with the Ordeen as well? What kind are they?” I asked.
“Fire elementals, something we don’t have in the County, lad. But I’ll tell you what I know about them on another day. For now we’d better continue your study of the Old Tongue, which is much harder to learn than Latin or Greek.”
The Spook was right. The rest of the lesson was so difficult it made my head hurt. It was very important that I learn the Old Tongue, though: It was commonly used by the Old Gods and their disciples, also in grimoires, books of dark magic used by necromancers.
I was relieved when the lesson came to a close and I was able to go up to my master’s library. I really enjoyed my visits there. It was the Spook’s pride and joy, and he’d inherited it, along with the house, from his own master, Henry Horrocks. Some of the books had belonged to previous spooks and went back many generations; some had been written by John Gregory himself. They chronicled a lifetime of knowledge acquired practicing his trade and fighting the Dark.
The Spook always worried that something might happen to his library. When Alice was staying with us, her job had been to make extra copies of the books, writing them out by hand. Mr. Gregory believed that one of his main duties was to preserve that library for future spooks, adding to the fund of knowledge whenever possible.
There were racks of shelves containing thousands of books, but I headed straight for the bestiary. It was a list of all sorts of creatures, from boggarts and demons to elementals and witches, along with personal accounts and sketches where the Spook described how he’d dealt with the dark. I flicked through the pages until I came to Lamia Witches.
The first Lamia was a powerful enchantress of great beauty. She loved Zeus, the leader of the Old Gods, who was already married to the goddess Hera. Unwisely, Lamia then bore Zeus’s children. On discovering this, in a jealous rage, Hera slew all but one of these unfortunate infants. Driven insane by grief, Lamia began to kill children wherever she found them, so that streams and rivers ran red with their blood and the air trembled with the cries of distraught parents. At last the gods punished her by shifting her shape so that her lower body was sinuous and scaled like that of a serpent.
Thus changed, she now turned her attentions to young men. She would call to them in a forest glade, only her beautiful head and shoulders visible above the lush green grass. Once she had lured him close, she wrapped her lower body around her victim tightly, squeezing the breath from his helpless body as her mouth fastened upon his neck until the very last drop of blood was drained.
Lamia later had a lover called Chaemog, a spider thing that dwelt in the deepest caverns of the earth. She bore him triplets, all female, and these were the first lamia witches. On their thirteenth birthday they quarreled with their mother and, after a terrible fight, tore off all her limbs and ripped her body into pieces. They fed every bit of her, including her heart, to a herd of wild boar.
The book then went on to describe the different types of lamia witch—what they looked like, how they behaved, and most importantly for a spook, how to deal with them. I knew quite a lot about lamia witches already. The Spook had lived for years with a domestic lamia witch called Meg and had kept her feral sister, Marcia, locked in a pit in the cellar of his Anglezarke house. They had both returned to Greece, but during my time at Anglezarke I’d learned a lot about them.
I continued to read, making brief notes as I did so. It was a very useful revision. There was a reference to the flying lamias, called vaengir, which the Spook had mentioned earlier. My thoughts turned to Mam. Even as a young child I’d known that she was different. She had a slight accent, which marked her out as someone who’d not been born in the County. She shunned direct sunlight and during the day often had the kitchen curtains closed.
Over time my knowledge of Mam had grown. I’d learned how Dad had come to rescue her in Greece. And then later she’d told me that I was special, a seventh son of a seventh son, and her gift to the County, a weapon to be used against the Dark. But the final pieces of the puzzle were still missing. What exactly was Mam?
Mam’s sisters were vaengir, flying feral lamias who, as the Spook had just explained, were only rarely found beyond the Ordeen’s portal. They were now in Malkin Tower, guarding her trunks, which contained money, potions, and books. It seemed to me that Mam must also be a lamia. Probably vaengir, too. That seemed most likely.
It was another mystery I needed to solve, though I couldn’t just ask her outright. It seemed to me that Mam had to tell me herself. And I might find out the answer very soon.
Late in the afternoon, given a few hours off by the Spook, I went for a stroll on the fells. I climbed high onto Parlick Pike, watched the shadows of clouds slowly drifting across the valley below and listened to the lapwings’ distinctive peewit calls.
How I missed Alice! We’d spent many a happy hour strolling up here with the County spread out below. Walking alone just wasn’t the same. I was impatient now for the week to pass so the Spook and I could set off for Jack’s farm. I was really looking forward to seeing Mam and finding out what she wanted from me.
CHAPTER III
A Changeling?
ON the morning we were due to set off, I walked down into Chipenden village to pick up the Spook’s weekly provisions from the baker, the greengrocer, and the butcher—after all, we would only be away a few days. At the last shop I told
the proprietor, a large red-bearded man, that if anyone came on spook’s business and rang the bell at the withy trees, it would have to wait.
As I walked back through the village, my sack was lighter than usual because of the food shortages. To the south of the County the war was still raging, and the reports were bad. Our forces were retreating, and so much food was being taken to feed the army that the poorest people were close to starvation. I noted that in Chipenden conditions had deteriorated further. There were more hungry faces, and some houses had been abandoned, the families traveling north in the hope of a better life.
The Spook and I set off at a good pace, but even though I was carrying my staff and both our bags as usual, I didn’t mind at all. I just couldn’t wait to see Mam. After a while, though, as the morning began to warm up, the Spook slowed down. I kept getting ahead and having to wait for him to catch up. He began to get rather irritated with me.
“Slow down, lad! Slow down!” he complained. “My old bones are struggling to keep up. We’ve set off a day early—your mam won’t arrive until midsummer’s eve anyway!”
Late in the evening of the second day, even before we reached the summit of Hangman’s Hill, I saw smoke rising into the sky from the direction of the farm. For a moment fear clutched at my heart. I remembered the raid carried out by the Pendle witches last year; they’d burned our barn to the ground before ransacking the house and abducting Ellie, Jack, and little Mary.
But as we began our descent through the trees toward the north pasture, what I saw was more a cause for wonder than fear. There were campfires to the south of the farm, a dozen or more, and smells of wood smoke and cooking were in the air. Who were those people camping in Jack’s fields? I knew he wouldn’t welcome strangers on his farm, so I wondered if it had something to do with Mam.
But I’d little time to think about that, because I sensed at once that she was home already. Faint brown smoke was rising from the chimney into the blue sky, and I felt the warmth of her presence. Somehow I just knew that she was back!
“Mam’s here now—I’m sure of it!” I told the Spook, my eyes glistening with tears. I’d missed her so much and couldn’t wait to see her again.
“Aye, lad, maybe you’re right. You go down and say hello. You’ll have a lot to talk about and be wanting some privacy. I’ll wait up here.”
I smiled, nodded, and ran down the wooded slope toward the new barn. But before I could reach the farmyard, my brother Jack came round the corner into my path. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been seriously ill after being beaten to within an inch of his life by the witches who had raided the farm and stolen Mam’s trunks. Now he was tanned by the sun and looked strong and healthy again, his eyebrows bushier than ever. He gripped me in a bear hug and almost squeezed the breath from my body.
“Good to see you, Tom!” he exclaimed, holding me at arm’s length and smiling broadly.
“It’s great to see you fit and well, Jack,” I told him.
“And no little thanks to you. Ellie told me everything. I’d be six feet under now if it wasn’t for you.”
Together with Alice, I’d helped to rescue Jack and his family from Malkin Tower.
“Mam’s back already, isn’t she?” I asked excitedly.
Jack nodded, but the smile slipped from his face. There was a certain uneasiness, a hint of uncertainty and sadness in his expression.
“Yes, she’s back, Tom, and she’s really looking forward to seeing you again, but I have to warn you that she’s changed—”
“Changed? What do you mean, changed?”
“At first I hardly recognized her. She has a wildness about her—especially her eyes. And she looks younger, as if she’s cast off the years. I know that doesn’t seem possible, but it’s true. . . .”
Although I didn’t say anything to Jack, I knew that this might well be the case. Human rules of aging didn’t apply to lamia witches. As the Spook’s bestiary had explained, there are two forms for a lamia, and they slowly change from one to the other. Mam was possibly slowly shape-shifting her way back to her feral state. It was a disturbing and scary possibility. Not something I wanted to think about too much.
“Tom—you know all about these things because of your line of work. Could she be a changeling?” Jack asked anxiously, his face suddenly full of fear and doubt. “Anything could have happened while she’s been in Greece. Maybe she’s been captured by goblin folk and replaced with one of their own?”
“No, Jack. Of course not,” I reassured him. “There’s no such thing as goblin folk. It’s just a superstition. So don’t you worry about that. I’m sure it’s just the warm Greek weather agreeing with her. I’ll go and see her, and we’ll talk later. Where’s James?”
“James is busy. He’s making more money with the forge than I am with the farm at the moment. But I’m sure he’ll find time for his youngest brother.”
James was living here now and helping Jack out with the chores, but by trade he was a blacksmith. It sounded like his new business was shaping up to be a real success.
“Who are all those people camping in the south meadow?” I asked, remembering the fires I’d seen as we’d descended Hangman’s Hill.
Jack scowled at me and shook his head angrily. “You’d better ask Mam that question!” he retorted. “But I tell you, they have no right to be here. No right at all! Witches from Pendle, they are. And to think they’re camping in my field after all that happened last year.”
Witches? If indeed they were, I could hardly blame him for being angry. The Pendle witches had put Jack and his family through hell last year. With that in mind, why would Mam allow them so close to the farm?
I shrugged at Jack and set off across the farmyard. Just behind the barn, facing the rear of the house, I saw a new building—and James, working at his forge within, his back to me. Just outside in the yard, a farmer was holding the reins of a horse waiting to be shod. I almost called across to James, but I couldn’t wait to see Mam.
As I approached the house, I was surprised to see Mam’s climbing rosebush in flower. Last time I’d been here it had looked dead; the blackened and withered stems had been ripped from the wall when the Fiend attacked the house in his attempt to kill me. Now there were new green shoots climbing up the stones and a few roses were in bloom, gleaming a bright County red in the sunshine.
I paused at the back door and rapped lightly on the wood. I’d been born and brought up in this farmhouse, but it was now no longer my home and it was polite to knock.
“Come in, son,” Mam called, and at the sound of her voice my eyes watered and a lump filled my throat. How I’d missed her! I stepped into the kitchen, and we were suddenly face-to-face.
She was perched on a stool, stirring the big pot of lamb stew that simmered over the fire. As usual, the curtains were drawn to keep out the sunlight, but even in the gloom, when she got to her feet and took a step toward me, I could see what Jack had meant when he said she’d changed.
Her smile was warm, but her face was a little gaunt, her cheekbones more prominent than before. Her black hair was no longer streaked with gray, and she really did look younger than when I’d last seen her, eighteen months earlier. But in her eyes I saw a wildness, an anxious, haunted look.
“Ah, son . . . ,” she said, and she put her arms around me and pulled me close. Her warmth enfolded me, and I sobbed deep in my throat.
Holding me at arm’s length, she shook her head. “Sit yourself down, son, and be strong. It’s good to be together again, but we’ve lots to say to each other, and we both need clear heads.”
I nodded and sat down facing her across the hearth, waiting to hear what she had to say. I desperately wanted to ask her about Alice and whether she might be the Fiend’s daughter, but Mam’s business had to come first. It must be important to bring her all the way back to the County for this meeting.
“How have you been, Tom? And how’s your master?”
“Fine, Mam. Fine. We’re both fit and well. Ho
w about you? How did you get on in Greece?”
“It’s been hard, son. . . .”
Mam caught her breath, and I saw the emotion in her face. For a moment I thought she was too upset to speak, but then she took a deep breath and her manner became matter-of-fact.
“I’ll come directly to the point. I’ve already visited Malkin Tower in Pendle and collected the bags of money that were in the trunks I gave you. Originally I meant them for you, to help your own cause here in the County, but things have taken a turn for the worse in my own land. Things are critical. I desperately need that money now to finance what must be done to avert a terrible disaster. Are you happy to surrender it back into my keeping?”
“Of course, Mam! It’s yours anyway. Just do what you think best. Is it to help your struggle against the Ordeen?”
“It is, son. It is. Did your master tell you what we face back in Greece?”
“He doesn’t know much about the Ordeen. He was hoping that you’d fill in the gaps in our knowledge. He’s waiting up on Hangman’s Hill to allow us some private time together, but he wants to talk to you later.”
“Well, I can do that for him at least—though I fear that when we’ve talked, things may not be so easy between us. Your master is a good man with high principles. He won’t be able to condone what I plan to do. But we’ll have to see. Perhaps he’ll realize that it really is for the best. Which brings me to the second thing I’d like to ask you. I need you, son. I need you to return to Greece with me and help me to fight the dark there. Others will help, too, but you have a special strength that might really make a difference and turn things in our favor. If I could avoid this, I would, but I have to ask. Will you come back to my homeland with me?”
I was astonished. My duty was to the County, and Mam’s wish had always been for me to become a spook’s apprentice. But if she needed help elsewhere, how could I refuse?
“Of course I’ll go, Mam. But will Mr. Gregory be coming, too? Or will I have to stop being his apprentice for a while?”
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