The child nodded. “It was when Mam gave me a white dress for my birthday. Dad carried me on his shoulders!”
“Is that the dress?” I asked. “Is it the one you’re wearing now?”
“Yes! Yes! Mam said I looked pretty, like a princess, and Dad laughed and spun me round and round until I grew dizzy.”
As the child laughed at the memory, the bloodstains faded and the dress became so white that my eyes hurt.
“Can you see your mam and dad?” I asked gently. “Look into the light!”
Tears rolled down her cheeks again, but she was smiling—they were tears of happiness. I knew that her parents were there waiting for her, holding out their arms and beckoning her forward.
The little girl turned her back on me and began to walk away. Soon she had faded and disappeared.
Alice and I strolled on without speaking. I felt happy, and the tension between us seemed to have evaporated. Sometimes it was really good to be a spook’s apprentice—I felt a real sense of achievement.
Ten minutes later we reached the wood mill. As the Spook had commented, boggarts are indeed creatures of habit. It had once been comfortable here, and there was a good chance that it had returned.
The main door of the mill had fallen off its hinges, and the workshop was deserted. There were no signs of violence or wanton destruction. The mill had simply been abandoned, probably when news came of the approach of the enemy patrol that had eventually attacked Chipenden. And the workers hadn’t returned. The County was still a long way from getting back to normal.
As I approached the workbench, a sudden chill ran the length of my spine—I knew that something from the dark was approaching. The next moment I heard purring, a noise so loud that it made the wood files and chisels vibrate in their racks. It was the cat boggart, and the fact that it was purring had gotten us off to a good start. Clearly it remembered me. So, wasting no time, calling out in a clear, firm voice, I began to negotiate.
“My master, John Gregory, asks that you return to Chipenden. The house is being repaired, and it already has a new roof. We thank you for your work in the past and hope that our association can continue into the future on the same terms as before.”
There was a long silence, but then I heard the scritch-scratching of the cat boggart. It was using its invisible claws to mark its reply on a huge piece of timber propped up against the wall. When the sounds ceased, I stepped forward and read its answer.
gregory is old and weary.
the future belongs to you. we make the pact.
I didn’t know how my master would feel about that, and I hesitated.
“Agree to it, Tom!” Alice insisted. “You are the future. Soon you’ll be the spook at Chipenden. Ain’t no doubt about it—the boggart is talking sense!”
In response to her words, the purring began again. I shrugged. The important thing was to get the boggart back to Chipenden to help fight off the imminent attack.
“I agree!” I called out. “The pact will be between you and me.”
Again there came the scritch-scratch of the invisible claws on the wood. When I read what it had written, I was filled with dismay.
my price is higher this time.
you must give me more.
The Spook had been right. The boggart was no longer satisfied with the terms of the previous pact. I thought quickly. What more could I offer? Suddenly I had a moment of inspiration. The boggart could travel down ley lines, and plenty of them ran through the house; they led off in most directions.
“In addition to killing dark things that try to enter the garden,” I told it, “I have another reward for you. Sometimes when I hunt out creatures of the dark, I find myself in extreme danger. Then I will summon you to fight by my side. You will be able to slay my enemies and drink their blood! What is your name? I must know your name so that I can call you!”
It was a long time before the boggart’s claws scratched on the wood again. Perhaps it was reluctant to tell its name to anyone? But at last it was revealed.
kratch!
“When I am in danger, I will call your name three times!” I said.
Again I heard the deep purring. But then I realized there was another condition I had to impose. “In addition to what is already protected within the garden, there are three wolfhounds. They must not be touched. They are our allies. Nor must you harm guests that I invite into the garden. Is it agreed?”
The purring deepened, and then came the scratching on the timber.
how long will the pact endure?
The answer came straight into my head. I didn’t even have to think. It was as if someone else was speaking for me.
“The pact will endure until three days after my death. During that time, you must protect my allies and drink the blood of my enemies. After that you will be free to go!”
Suddenly the boggart appeared before us in the gloom, taking on the appearance of a big ginger tomcat. There was a vertical scar across one blind eye—the wound it had suffered fighting off the attack of the Bane, I assumed. It moved forward and rubbed itself against my leg, purring all the while—then suddenly disappeared.
“You’ve done it, Tom!” Alice cried.
I smiled at her, feeling pleased with myself. “Well, Alice, we can’t be sure until we get back to the house, but I’m certainly hopeful!”
“Would you really summon the boggart to help you, Tom?” Alice asked. “That would leave the house unprotected.”
“That’s right,” I agreed. “I’d only do so if my life was in great danger. And I certainly wouldn’t summon it to face Siscoi.”
We set off for the village right away and collected the staffs from the blacksmith. As usual, he’d done an excellent job, and I paid him on the spot. Then I visited the three shops to collect our provisions—a good supply of vegetables, bacon, ham, and eggs, not to mention bread fresh from the oven. I carried the heavy burlap sack full of food, and Alice carried the three staffs.
I should have felt safe close to Chipenden, but I was uneasy. We would surely have been followed from Todmorden; the Fiend’s servants must be getting nearer.
As we walked up the lane that led to the house, we spotted a figure ahead and my heart lurched. But then I saw that it was a tall woman carrying a sack. Grimalkin! The witch assassin was leaning on the gate. Over her shoulder was the leather sack containing the Fiend’s head—she never let it out of her sight. She smiled, showing her pointy teeth.
“You have succeeded,” she said. “I went off sniffing for our enemies, but on my return I heard a warning growl as soon as I set foot in the garden. The boggart is back and hungry for blood! I don’t think I’m very welcome.”
We climbed over the farm gate and walked up the hill until we reached the perimeter of the garden. There we paused and I called out into the trees: “By my side is my guest, Grimalkin. Allow her to cross the threshold safely, and grant her the same courtesies as you would me!”
I paused and then cautiously led the way into the garden. There was no warning growl. The boggart was keeping to the terms of our pact. There was no need to speak on behalf of Alice—the Spook had already done so some time ago. And Judd was safe, too; ex-apprentices who completed their training to the Spook’s satisfaction could usually enter the garden with impunity.
“Did you see any sign of our enemies?” I asked Grimalkin as we approached the house.
She shook her head. “Neither hide nor hair. I ventured southeast, almost to the edge of Accrington, but there was nothing. Unless the witches come in the form of orbs, there is little chance of an attack much before dawn.”
In the kitchen I found that the Spook had taken delivery of a new table and six chairs, which stood opposite the fire. He was on his feet now, one hand resting on the back of a chair, a little smile on his face.
“Are you starting to feel better?” I asked him.
“That I am, lad,” he replied. “You did well to get the boggart back. And you’ve brought our provisions to
o,” he said, nodding at the sack I’d set down on the flags. “Hopefully it’ll cook us breakfast tomorrow morning. It’ll be just like old times!”
Judd Brinscall returned about an hour before dark. His mission to the barracks at Burnley had been successful. It seemed that reports of strange deaths over the past few months had already reached the ears of the commander, and with a spook’s report to add to that, he quickly made up his mind. A sizable force was to be dispatched to Todmorden, though there would be a delay of a day or so. It seemed that all their available troops were busy clearing out gangs of robbers that, in the aftermath of the war, were now occupying Clitheroe. They would no doubt soon restore law and order there, but they had no experience of dealing with dark entities. I had some misgivings about how they would cope with what awaited them in Todmorden, but I kept them to myself. It would help if one of us contacted the soldiers with advice—but first we had to survive the night.
We spent it out in the garden. It was certainly no hardship—the weather was just about as warm as it gets in the County after dark. Although still weak, the Spook was able to walk around now, and he congratulated me again on getting the boggart back. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it had insisted on making the pact with me. It wouldn’t make much difference to what happened, and there was no need for him to know.
We took turns to keep watch, but the Spook, Judd, and I slept with our staffs by our sides. I got the first watch and spent my time patrolling the inner boundary of the garden, where the rough grass met the trees. To pass the time, I checked the eastern garden to see if the dead witches were still safely bound in their graves; I also checked the bound boggarts. All was well.
I felt calm, confident that the boggart would take care of any encroaching strigoi. My greatest fear was that Siscoi might have already been brought into our world by the witches and come for the Fiend’s head. I hoped that pouring salt and iron into the offal pit had delayed him.
Grimalkin took the second watch, and I tried to sleep. I kept drifting off but waking up again with a sudden jerk. I was vaguely aware that the watch had changed once more when a terrible howl brought me up onto my knees.
Something had invaded the garden and was being challenged by the boggart.
CHAPTER XXI
EMPTY EYE SOCKETS
AN instant later I was on my feet, staff in hand; beside me, my master was struggling to rise. I grabbed him under his arm and supported his weight until he was standing. Someone was running off into the trees. I recognized the gait—it was Grimalkin, sprinting toward the source of the danger as the boggart’s warning growl erupted for a second time.
Alice was standing beside me, but there was no sign of Judd Brinscall. He had been on watch and could be anywhere in the garden.
“I’ll go and see if Judd is all right,” I said.
“Nay, lad, stay here. If he’s in trouble, the boggart’s on the spot and the witch will be there in a few moments to help.”
“That’s right, Tom,” Alice said, agreeing with the Spook for once. “Best wait here.”
Suddenly there was a third roar from the boggart—followed almost immediately by a high, thin scream, which was suddenly cut off. Moments later someone came running toward us. I readied my staff and so did the Spook. We relaxed when it proved to be Judd.
“I was in the western garden,” he said. “It’s all clear there. I thought it best to leave things to the boggart.”
“Aye, that’s the most sensible course of action,” said the Spook. “I trained you well—though the witch couldn’t wait to get involved. This attack’s come from the south. We’ll know what’s what in a few moments.”
Everything was silent, and even the breeze died down. We stood there, alert and ready for danger. After about five minutes, Grimalkin emerged from the trees.
“It was a strigoi,” she confirmed. “The boggart dealt with it before I got anywhere near. It didn’t seem happy with what it had caught and was busy tearing it to pieces.”
We settled down before the embers of the fire, but none of us felt like sleeping now. I suppose we sensed that another attack was likely.
It happened within the hour. Alice suddenly sniffed twice very loudly. “The witches—they’re almost here!” she cried, leaping to her feet and pointing to the east.
We all stood and searched the sky in the direction she had indicated. It was a clear night, the heavens liberally sprinkled with stars. Now some of the points of light were moving. I counted eight speeding toward us. Soon they had become distinct orbs, which paused above the trees of the eastern garden and began their dance, circling and weaving and exchanging places.
Both the Spook and Judd looked grim. They held their staffs in the diagonal position—though such weapons would offer no defense against the animism magic of Romanian witches, who would soon move in close and try to suck the life force from our bodies.
Grimalkin was whispering into Alice’s ear; she nodded as if in agreement. I suspected that they were going to use magic against our enemies. Back in Ireland, I had witnessed the terrible power that Alice had at her disposal. She was reluctant to use it, for it signaled yet another stage in her journey to becoming a malevolent witch. And it would hardly be welcomed by the Spook.
The orbs ceased their dance and swooped toward us, but there was a sudden roar of anger from the boggart, a terrible howl to challenge the witches. Something red streaked up at them, and they scattered before re-forming and attacking again. Once more the challenge was roared out, and the boggart soared upward for a second time. This time there were several shrill screams, followed by flashes of light. The orbs gathered over the trees again, but now there were only five—which dispersed again, each in a different direction.
“That seemed almost too easy,” observed the Spook. “No doubt they were taken by surprise. The boggart dealt with several of them, but we need to remain on our guard. The rest could try again at any time. They’ll eventually conjure up some means of fighting it off.”
Once again we settled down uneasily by the fire, but the attack never came, and soon the predawn light began to color the eastern sky. The five of us headed into the southern garden to investigate the aftermath of the intrusion. The remains of the strigoi host were scattered over a wide area: we found the skull up in a tree, impaled on a thin branch, twigs sprouting from the empty eye sockets. Of course, the demon itself would eventually find another host.
“We need to gather as many of the bones as possible and bury them,” my master said. “These are the remains of an innocent person, after all.”
We did as he asked, and I went back to the house and managed to find a shovel that had survived the fire. It was badly singed but still intact, and I used it to dig a shallow grave beneath the trees. In it we laid the bones we had managed to find, then I covered it with earth. When I’d finished, we all stared down at the freshly turned soil and, very softly, the Spook said, “Rest in peace.” That was just about the nearest he’d ever come to offering up a prayer.
“The boggart must have dismembered it because it felt cheated,” he observed. “Any blood inside the strigoi would have been secondhand, taken from a victim. My boggart likes its blood fresh! Let’s hope it’s in a good enough mood to serve us breakfast!”
When we entered the kitchen, five steaming plates of ham and eggs were waiting on the table, and a central dish was piled high with thick slices of buttered bread. We settled ourselves down without delay. The bacon was slightly overcooked, but we were all very hungry, and we tucked in.
At last the Spook pushed his plate away and looked at each of us in turn, his eyes finally settling on me again. “It’s time to talk,” he said. “We must discuss what needs to be done.” Then he turned to Alice. “I asked you once before, girl, and now I must repeat my question. Are you prepared to go into the dark and bring back what we need?”
“There’s got to be another way!” I cried out, before Alice could reply. “I won’t allow it.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t blame you, lad, for trying to protect her. But we know what’s necessary. Just how far are we prepared to go to achieve our aims?”
“We must do what is necessary. How long must I continue to carry this?” Grimalkin asked, rising to her feet and patting the leather sack. “Come with me, Alice. I need to speak to you alone.”
Alice followed the witch assassin out into the garden, leaving the Spook, Judd, and me to stare at our empty plates.
“We have our present problem to deal with before we consider the Fiend,” said the Spook. “And it’s urgent. We may be relatively safe within the boundaries of this garden, but what about the poor folk outside it? Those to the east, near Todmorden, may already be losing their lives. We have to help them. It’s our duty.”
“You mean return to Todmorden?” Judd asked. “I knew we’d have to go back—but surely not right away!”
“It’ll be weeks before I’m strong enough to make the journey, let alone be effective once I get there,” said the Spook, shaking his head. “It hurts me to have to ask others to do the work, but I have no other option. By now those soldiers from Burnley will be setting off to investigate Todmorden, but they fight wars against human foes and have no knowledge of dealing with the dark. We need to send expert help. Would you go, Judd, and take the lad with you? I don’t expect you to cross the river, but you could certainly help those on the County side. Our enemies will likely prey on isolated dwellings beyond the town to begin with. Those are the ones who will need you.”
“Of course,” Judd said. “The townsfolk won’t welcome us, though. They’ll be concerned about their own survival. Still, it must be done. We’ll set off immediately.”
I nodded in agreement. It was better to be doing something rather than just waiting for whatever our enemies decided to dish out.
After that, we fell silent again. I was just wondering where Alice and Grimalkin had gone and what they were saying to each other, when suddenly I heard a distant bell.
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