And so I became the wife of a farmer and bore him six sons and then, finally, a seventh, whom we named Thomas Jason Ward; his first name chosen by his father, the second by me, after a hero from my homeland whom I was once fond of.
We lamias are accustomed to shape-shifting, but the changes that time works on us can never be predicted. As the years passed I grew to accept my lot and to love my husband. I moved gradually closer and closer to the light, and eventually became a healer and a midwife, helping my neighbors whenever I could. Thus it was that a human, John Ward, the man who saved me, led me down a path I had not foreseen.
The end of the letter made me feel a little better. At least Mam was saying that she’d loved Dad. She’d gradually changed and become more human. I gave a sudden shiver, realizing that now the opposite was true. She was leaving her humanity behind and had evolved into something very different from the mother I remembered. What she was asking was unthinkable.
“Mam said she held two sacred objects,” I told Slake. “Why is the second one in the dark?”
“Do you think it was easy to hobble the Fiend?” she hissed, once more extending her talons. She opened her mouth very wide, showing me her teeth, and saliva began to drip from her jaws. For a moment I thought she intended to attack me, but then she slowly let out her breath and continued to speak.
“There was a great struggle despite Zenobia’s magic. The Fiend snatched up one of the objects as he was hurled back into the dark. These are Zenobia’s instructions for the ritual. . . . Read them now!” she commanded, handing me a second piece of paper.
I took it, folding it and putting it in my pocket. “I’ll read it tomorrow,” I said. “I’ve already learned too many things that aren’t to my taste.”
Slake growled deep in her throat, but I turned my back on her and went up the steps to the battlements. I didn’t want to see Alice yet. I had to think things through first.
CHAPTER VI
HALF A TALE
I paced the battlements of Malkin Tower, backward and forward, backward and forward, like someone demented. As I walked, my mind twisted this way and that, trapped in a labyrinth. No matter which avenue of escape I explored, I always returned to the two questions that tormented me.
Should I tell Alice that she had to go into the dark again? And after that, was I prepared to make such a sacrifice? Could I really take Alice’s life?
The night passed slowly as I agonized over what I should do. Finally I leaned on the parapet, staring west over the trees of Crow Wood. Gradually the sky began to lighten, until the massive bulk of Pendle Hill was visible. There, in that pale dawn light, I began to read the letter outlining the ritual by which the Fiend could finally be destroyed.
The destruction of the Fiend may be achieved by the following means. First, the three sacred objects must be at hand. They are the hero swords forged by Hephaestus. The greatest of these is the Destiny Blade; the second is the dagger called Bone Cutter, which will be given to you by Slake. The third is the dagger named Dolorous, sometimes called the Blade of Sorrow, which you must retrieve from the dark.
The place is also important: it must be one especially conducive to the use of magic. Thus the ritual must be carried out on a high hill east of Caster, which is known as the Wardstone.
That was a strange coincidence. I was to attempt to destroy the Fiend on a hill that bore my own name! I shivered as if someone had walked over my grave—then continued to read.
First the blood sacrifice should be made in this precise manner. A fire must be constructed, one capable of generating great heat. To achieve this it will be necessary to build a forge.
Throughout the ritual, the willing sacrificial victim must display great courage. If she once cries out to betray her pain, all will be lost and the rite will fail.
Using the dagger Bone Cutter, the thumb bones must be taken from the right hand of the victim and cast into the flames. Only if she does not cry out may the second cut be made to remove the bones of the left hand. These also are added to the fire.
Next, using the dagger Dolorous, the heart must be cut out of the victim and, still beating, cast into the flames.
The full implications suddenly became clear in my mind. Alice was being asked to retrieve the blade Dolorous, which would then be used in the disgusting ceremony to cut out her heart. She was being asked to venture into the dark to seize the very weapon that would slay her!
It was appalling. I shuddered at the thought of carrying out such a task.
Then I heard someone climbing the steps toward me. I recognized the click of Alice’s pointy shoes and hastily stuffed the letter into my breeches pocket. Seconds later she emerged onto the battlements behind me.
“Did you see your mam?” she asked, placing her hand on my shoulder. “How did it go? You seem upset. I can feel you trembling.”
“I am upset,” I admitted. “She’s changed terribly. She doesn’t seem at all like the Mam I remember.”
“Oh, Tom!” Alice cried. “Everybody changes. If you were to step into the head of your future self years from now, you’d no doubt be appalled by how different you were and how much your thoughts and feelings had altered. We’re changing all the time, but it’s so gradual we don’t notice it happening. And for lamias it’s much more rapid and marked. Your mam can’t help it, Tom. It’s in her nature—but she still loves you.”
“Does she?” I said, turning to face her.
She stared at me. “What is it, Tom? There’s something wrong, isn’t there? Something you haven’t told me.”
I gazed into Alice’s eyes and made a decision. I would tell her part of what I knew—that she was being asked to go into the dark again. But there was no way I could tell her that she would have to be sacrificed to finally defeat the Fiend. That was impossible. The ritual was horrible, and I knew I was incapable of carrying out such an act on my worst enemy, let alone my best friend.
So there on the battlements, in the gray light of dawn, with the raucous cries of crows in the background, I gave her half a tale.
“There’s something I’ve got to tell you, Alice,” I said. “It’s terrible, but you have to know. There are three sacred objects needed to bind the Fiend for all time. I already have the first two—my sword and a dagger called Bone Cutter. But the third of the hero swords is also a dagger, and it’s hidden in the dark under the Fiend’s throne. They want you to go into the dark and get it, Alice—but I said I wouldn’t let you.”
For a moment Alice was quiet, all the while staring intently into my eyes. “What do you know about the ritual itself, Tom? What has to be done?”
“I’ll be told that later—once we have the three objects,” I lied.
After I’d finished, we were both silent for a long time. I stared up at the sky, watching the small clouds race eastward, their edges tinged with red and pink from the rising sun. Then suddenly Alice rushed into my arms, and we hugged each other tightly. As we did so, I knew that I could never sacrifice her; there had to be another way.
When we finally broke apart, Alice looked up at me. “If it’s the only way, then I’ll go into the dark and get what we need,” she said.
“No, Alice! Don’t even think of it. There must be something else we can do!”
“But what if there isn’t, Tom? Grimalkin can’t keep the Fiend’s head out of the hands of our enemies forever. They’ll never give up. Everywhere we go is dangerous, because they’re always at our heels. They waited for us here, didn’t they? And eventually the Fiend will return with all his power. We’ll be snatched away into the dark for an eternity of torment. At least this way only one of us has to go. I have to venture into the dark whatever the cost. And I’ll be coming back. Ain’t going to stay there forever, am I?”
“No, you can’t go into the dark,” I insisted. “I won’t let you.”
“It’s my decision, Tom, not yours. There’s still more than five months till Halloween, but the sooner I get that dagger, the better.”
“You can’t go back there, Alice!” I cried. “Remember what it did to you last time.”
“That was different, Tom. I was snatched away by the Fiend. Well, he ain’t there now, and the dark is weakened because of it. And I’ve a lot of power of my own. I can look after myself, don’t you worry!”
I didn’t reply. Even if Alice succeeded, she would only have moved things nearer to the point where she was supposed to die. Mam’s second letter was in my pocket, and there it would stay.
We stayed in the tower for the remainder of the daylight hours, planning to leave after dark, when it would be easier to slip away unseen.
While Alice went down into the tunnel to pay another visit to Agnes, I had a short conversation with Slake. In her presence I read through the remainder of Mam’s letter and was able to question her about things that were unclear. The more I learned, the worse it got. By the end of our discussion, I was close to despair.
At last it was time to leave. While Alice stood nearby, waiting for me, I turned to the lamia. “I may never return here,” I told her. “You are free to go.”
“It is not for you to dismiss me,” Slake hissed. “I will stay here until after Halloween. Then, when the Fiend has been dealt with, I will burn the trunks and leave to seek out others of my kind.”
“And if he is not dealt with?”
“Then it will go badly for all of us. If you fail, the consequences do not bear thinking about. You must do what is required.”
“It is not for you to tell me what to do!” I retorted. “I make my own decisions. However, you have my gratitude. If ever you need my help, call me and I will stand at your side.”
As we left the lamia, Alice stared at me in astonishment. I knew why: those final words had flown out of my mouth without thought, but I realized that I meant every word. That night on Pendle Hill, when the Fiend had been summoned by the covens, Slake and her sister had fought to save us. We would have died there but for their intervention. Here, guarding the tower, Wynde had been lost. And although it was difficult to accept, she was distant kin—a descendant of Mam’s—so I owed her no less than what had been promised.
“Do you know what I think, Tom?” Alice said as we began to descend the steps. “You talked about your mam having changed, but you’ve changed too. You made that promise to Slake without any thought of what Old Gregory might say. You’re more of a spook than he is now.”
I made no reply. It saddened me to think of my master in decline, but I knew that Alice was right. As he had told me the previous day, I needed to act and think like the spook that I would become. We were heading into an uncertain future, but things were approaching a climax. Soon, for good or ill, it would be over.
Agnes was waiting for us near the exit of the tunnel. There were flies buzzing about her head and dried streaks of blood around her mouth. She smelled of loam and things that slithered underground.
“We’re going back to Chipenden,” Alice told the dead witch. “I’ll come back and see you when I can.”
Agnes nodded, and a gray maggot fell out of her hair and writhed at her feet. “Come and see me in the dell when your need is great. You too, Thomas Ward. You also have a friend among the dead.”
Alice gave the witch an affectionate pat on the shoulder, and we crept along the tunnel cautiously, emerging through the sepulchre to stand among the thickets that covered the graveyard.
Alice sniffed three times. “There are half a dozen witches here, but they’re all dead. Agnes has been busy!”
So we hurried north, then west, skirting the edge of Pendle to head directly for Chipenden. Agnes was our ally and friend, but I noticed that Alice had not bothered to tell her about her journey into the dark. Dead witches changed, moving away from human concerns, and Agnes was no longer someone Alice could confide in.
CHAPTER VII
CROSSING IT IS DANGEROUS
As we crossed the Spook’s garden, the dogs raced toward us, barking excitedly, and I had to spend a few minutes patting them and being licked in return. I thought the disturbance would have brought my master out to greet us, but there was no sign of him. Was there something wrong? I wondered. Had he gone off on spook’s business?
But then I saw the smoke rising from the kitchen chimney and was reassured. When I led the way inside, I saw a stranger sitting by the fire, talking to John Gregory. Both men rose to their feet and turned to face me.
“This is Tom Ward, my apprentice,” said the Spook. “And that’s the girl, Alice, who I’ve been telling you about. And this is Judd Brinscall, lad, one of my ex-apprentices. He’s come all the way from Todmorden to escort us back there.”
“Mistress Fresque is a friend of mine, Tom,” Judd said with a smile. “She’s a Romanian but now lives in Todmorden, and she sent me to find out what’s delayed your master’s visit to her library.” Judd Brinscall was shorter than my master and slight of build. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, but his face was lined and weather-beaten, suggesting that he had spent most of his life outdoors. His blond hair was starting to recede, but his eyebrows were black, making a strange contrast. He wore the hood and gown of a spook, but unlike ours, his was green with streaks of brown and yellow.
I remembered his name because it was among the most prominent ones scratched upon my bedroom wall here at Chipenden, the room used by all the boys my master had trained.
“You’re staring at my gown,” he said with a faint smile. “Once I wore one almost identical to yours, Tom. But there’s a reason for it. When I’d finished my time here with Mr. Gregory, he offered to let me work with him for a couple more years to develop my skills as a spook further. That would have been the sensible thing to do, but I’d endured five long years learning my trade in the County, and I had the wanderlust. I needed to visit new places while I was still young—particularly Romania, the land my mother’s family comes from.
“I traveled far, crossed the sea, and eventually ended up there. I spent two years studying under one of the local spooks in the province of Transylvania and substituted this gown for my own. It provides necessary camouflage when journeying through the forest.”
“Well, lad,” interrupted the Spook, turning to me, his face filled with concern. “How did things go at Malkin Tower? Sit yourself down and tell me all about it.”
So, while Alice remained standing, I took my place at the table and began my tale. At first I was hesitant, feeling a little uncomfortable about revealing so much in front of a stranger.
My master must have noticed my disquiet. “Spit it out, lad! You needn’t clam up in front of Judd here. We go back a long way.”
So I told my master part of what I had learned—though nothing of the ritual itself, which he would not have countenanced. I told the same lie I’d given Alice, pretended that the next course of action would be revealed only when all three hero swords were in my possession. And, of course, I did not reveal the worst thing of all—that I must sacrifice Alice to achieve our aims.
It saddened me to lie by omission in that way, but perhaps not as much as it might once have done. I was becoming harder, and I knew that what I did was for the best. A great burden of responsibility was being thrust upon my shoulders, and I had to learn to bear it alone.
When I’d finished, both spooks stared hard at Alice. “Well, girl?” said my master. “It’s asking a lot, but are you prepared to attempt what’s required? Will you go back into the dark?”
“There’s got to be another way!” I said angrily. “We can’t ask Alice to do this.”
Neither spook said a word; both cast their eyes down and stared at the table. Their silence said everything. I felt bitter. Alice was nothing to them. Judd Brinscall had only just met her, and my master had never learned to trust her, despite what she’d been through with us, despite all those times she’d saved our lives.
“I’ll do what’s necessary,” Alice said in a quiet voice, “but I want to be sure that it’s the only way. I need time to think. And I need to talk to Grimalki
n. She ain’t that far away, so I’ll go and find her. I shouldn’t be away more than a few days.”
The next morning Alice headed north to find the witch assassin. I gave her a hug at the edge of the garden.
“Whatever you decide, Alice, don’t go off into the dark until we’ve spoken again. Do you promise?”
“I promise, Tom. Wouldn’t go without saying good-bye, would I?”
I watched her walk off into the distance, my throat constricting with emotion.
Within the hour, after leaving the three dogs in the care of the village blacksmith, my master, Judd Brinscall, and I had departed too. Although he’d cried off from the journey to Pendle, the Spook seemed happy enough to head for Todmorden. His knees were feeling better, and his stride showed its usual energy. As we walked, the three of us talked.
“Do you know what I miss about the old house?” Judd said.
“For me, it’s the roof and the library,” the Spook joked, “and it gladdens my heart to see that both are being attended to!”
“Well, I miss the boggart!” exclaimed Judd. “It might have burned the bacon occasionally, but it always did the washing up and kept the garden safe from intruders. It scared me at first, but eventually I grew quite fond of it.”
“It scared me too,” I said. “It gave me a clout behind the ear when I came down to breakfast too early on my first day. But my memories of it are mostly good.”
“Aye,” my master agreed. “It warned us of danger and saved our lives on more than one occasion. It will certainly be missed.”
We broke our journey in the village of Oswaldtwistle, the Spook leading us directly to its one and only tavern, the Gray Man.
“Money might be short at present but my old bones are begging for a warm bed tonight, lad,” he told me.
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