Authors: Martin Booth
Soul Stealer
Text copyright © 2003 by Martin Booth
First U.S. hardcover edition published by Little, Brown and Company in 2005
First published in Great Britain by Puffin Books in 2003
Reader’s Guide copyright © 2006 by Little, Brown and Company
All rights reserved.
Little, Brown and Company
Warner Books, Inc.
Hachette Book Group
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New York, NY 10017
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www.HachetteBookGroup.com
First eBook Edition: October 2009
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental
and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-316-08719-3
For my family
—
Alex, Emma and my wife,
Helen
—
who helped beat back my own demon
in order to write this story
Contents
One: The Eye Of Fnnocence and Experience
Two: Two Zombie Frogs and Dead cows’ Eyes
Three: The Suggestion of Chimerae
Seven: A Bungalow like Any Other-Not!
Fourteen: Half-lives Half-deaths
Dangerous magic - ancient enemies
Someone is out to steal your soul.
SOUL STEALER
Martin Booth says:
All the magic in
Soul Stealer
is real: the chants, the herbs, the potions and the equipment. The colophon
used in this book is an ancient alchemical
sign referring to the
caput mortuum, a
death’s head or skull: it symbolizes decay and decline. It is, even today, still used as a common curse in southern Italy
and the Balkans. The other colophon
is the alchemical symbol for
aurum potabile
or liquid gold, which was thought to be a youth-giving potion or the elixir of life.
Alchemy, a curious blend of magic and science, was the chemistry of the Middle Ages. People who studied alchemy were called
alchemists and they devoted their lives to the quest for the elixir of life, the creation of a homunculus (an artificial man)
and the means to turn ordinary (or ignoble) metal, like iron or lead, into a noble metal, like gold or silver. This was known
as transmutation, a term also used in nuclear science to mean the conversion of one element into another, either naturally
or by artificial means.
The Eye Of Fnnocence and Experience
P
ip opened her eyes and looked blearily at her alarm clock. The digital numbers flicked over to read 6:57 a.m. She slowly sat
up, stretched and, pushing the curtains aside without getting out of bed, peered out of the window. A thin veil of river mist
hung over the fields surrounding the old manor house of Rawne Barton, the trees outlined against the gray light like the veins
in skeletal leaves. The hills in the distance were barely visible, the quarry little more than a faint dark scar upon them.
A robin settled momentarily on the window sill, puffed out its orange breast, chirped once and flitted off. She loved these
early moments when she was still half asleep and the world, like her, had not yet fully woken up.
Yet, somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she felt a gnawing apprehension which at first she could not place. Then, gradually,
she realized the cause of it. This
was to be the first day of term, a new term in a new school — and a secondary school, at that.
Reaching for the window, Pip opened the latch. A cool, damp drift of air filtered into the room. It smelled of the first falling
leaves of autumn and the grass her father had mown the day before. Feeling its chill, she snuggled back down under the duvet,
preserving the last vestiges of warmth.
Suddenly, through the open window, Pip heard a noise. It sounded bizarrely like an animal roaring somewhere far off, followed
by someone clicking heavy sticks together. The hair went up on the back of her neck. It was an unearthly sound, echoing in
the mist yet also muffled by it. It was unlike anything she had ever heard before.
As she slipped quickly out of bed, Pip’s toes curled with fear as they felt for her slippers. She was afraid, yet at the same
time, intensely curious. The noises had to have a rational explanation, had to be made by an animal of some sort and yet,
at the same time, she could think of no wild animals in England that, outside of a zoo, even remotely roared.
As she stood up, the noise ceased abruptly. Pip wondered if she had simply imagined it, that it was nothing more than a remnant
of the last dream she had had before waking. In recent weeks, her dreams had become quite vivid and fantastical. This, she
considered to herself, was hardly surprising after the events of the summer holidays.… Indeed, after them, if there were a
saber-toothed tiger loose in the English countryside, released by some evil force or twisted mind, she would not have been
at all amazed.
A moment later, her alarm clock went off. Pip tapped the snooze button and, standing in her slippers, turned towards the chair
where her mother had laid out her new school uniform the night before — a yellow-and-blue striped tie, a white shirt, a gray
sweater and a gray pleated skirt.
The second she took her first step towards the chair, however, Pip froze and then spun around. In the half-light across the
other side of her bedroom stood the vague, shadowy silhouette of a person, half hidden by the angle of her wardrobe. She sharply
sucked in her breath. The hair on her neck and arms prickled. She felt her hands go immediately clammy and the blood drain
from her cheeks. Almost as a reflex, she looked around for a weapon, but all she could see was her badminton racket.
“Fear not. It is I,” said the outline, softly.
“Sebastian!” Pip retorted, angrily.
Sebastian stepped into the middle of the room. He was wearing a dark, nondescript cloak draped over his shoulders.
“You scared the living daylights out of me,” Pip complained.
“I apologize most humbly,” Sebastian replied with a short bow. “It was not my intention to startle.”
“Well, you did!” Pip snapped back.
Aware that her midriff was showing, she smoothed down her pajama top to below her waist and rubbed her arms to remove the
goose pimples.
Pip and her twin brother, Tim, had met Sebastian during the summer holidays. Knowing him had led them into a remarkable and
perilous adventure. They had soon
discovered that Sebastian was no ordinary boy. For one thing, he was more or less six hundred years old but had been in a
kind of hibernation for most of the time. Moreover, he possessed alchemical powers learned from his father, an alchemist of
repute.
Rawne Barton had been built by Sebastian’s father on land granted by the King. It was rightfully his home. Still, Pip considered,
this did not give him the right to sneak about her bedroom whenever he chose.
“In your time, was it common courtesy to enter a lady’s bedroom in the middle of the night?” Pip demanded; then she grinned
and added, “What are you doing here anyway, skulking about like this?”
“It is morn,” Sebastian pointed out, “not night but, yes, decorum would not have had me linger in your chamber. However,”
he added matter-of-factly, “I see it my place to guard you through the dark hours. From time to time, I look upon you to ensure
you are safe.”
“You mean you stand here while I’m sleeping?” Pip replied, somewhat taken aback by the thought.
“Not just you. I watch over Tim, also.”
“Does he know?” Pip asked.
“He knows not,” Sebastian answered, “for I do not remain in a solitary position. A sentry who does not patrol the entire castle
is not fulfilling his duty.”
Pip picked up her hairbrush and started to tug at her sleep-tousled hair.
“Well, it’s day now so I don’t need guarding. And I’ve got to get up and dressed. So, if you don’t mind…”
From across the fields came another curt, grunting roar. Pip glanced at the window.
“As for that sound which alerted you, be not concerned,” Sebastian said. “It is but that of two red deer stags. My father
used to hunt them here with the King. Autumn is coming and they are in rut, the stags fighting over the hinds. Although England
is much changed from my father’s time, there are still some such creatures in the woods and wilder places. See.”
Sebastian pointed to the window. Outlined against the mist down by the river, Pip could make out two magnificent stags, standing
as if to attention with their antlers branched into the air. Facing each other against the backdrop of the early morning light,
they might have been posing for the painting of a heraldic shield. As she watched, they lowered their heads, briefly clashed
their antlers together then, separating, walked sedately off in different directions, to be swallowed by the fog.
“That was fantastic!” Pip exclaimed. “I didn’t know such amazing animals lived around here.”
“They are dignified beasts,” Sebastian declared. “They come down from the moorland to the woods. One usually espies them only
at dusk and first light, for they are shy creatures.”
“Look,” Pip went on, turning her back on Sebastian and continuing to brush her hair. “I don’t think we need a security guard.
The house has an alarm system for Dad’s cameras and computers and stuff. If it’s triggered, lights flash, a siren sounds and
the security firm gets an alert call.”
Sebastian made no immediate reply. There was a soft footfall in the corridor, and the bedroom door opened.
“As usual,” said Pip with resignation and without even bothering to glance over her shoulder. “You’ll never learn to knock,
will you, Tim?”
“Sorry, sis,” said Tim, coming in and pushing the door behind him. He was already dressed in his school uniform. “Up and ready?”
“Do I look it?” Pip answered sarcastically.
It was at that moment Tim noticed Sebastian standing in the room. “Hey! What’re you doing here?”
Sebastian made no immediate reply. Tim gave his sister a quizzical look, quickly raising and lowering his eyebrows. She glowered
back. From the end of the corridor came their mother’s voice. “Breakfast!”
Their father’s voice followed. “Shake a leg, you two! Bourne End Comprehensive school throws its doors wide open for you.
The spectacular light of secondary education shines forth to greet you to the future of academe!”
Pip and Tim exchanged glances.
Spectacular
was one of their father’s favorite words. Sebastian came across the room.
“I must have a word with you before you depart,” he announced and, from a pocket in his cloak, he removed a thin, gold chain
from which hung a tiny pendant set with a cloudy white stone. He held it out to Pip. “I wish you to take this and wear it
at all times, especially when away from Rawne Barton.”