Spook's Destiny (13 page)

I felt its small cold fingers on my neck; then a sudden sharp stab of pain as the teeth punctured my flesh. It began to suck noisily, and I felt the blood being drawn out of my body – and with it my life.

I had no strength to resist. There was little pain, just a sense of floating away towards death. How long it went on I have no idea, but the next thing I knew, Scarabek was walking purposefully into the room, her shadow flickering on the ceiling in the candlelight. She came across and gently plucked the creature from me; as it came away, I felt a tugging at my throat when its teeth were withdrawn. She carried it over to the cradle, which still lay on its side, and swaddled it in the woollen blanket again.

She started singing to it in a low voice – a lullaby that might have been used to soothe a human child. Then she righted the cradle and placed the creature inside, carefully adjusting the blanket to keep it warm.

Scarabek came back and stared down at me, and I saw that her face had changed. Previously, she must have used some enchantment to disguise herself. The truth was now revealed and I recognized her instantly. There was no doubt: she was the Celtic witch from my dreams. These were the eyes – one green, the other blue – that I had seen in the cloud as we’d approached Ireland and when we faced the jibber in Dublin, and I shuddered at the malevolence glaring from them.

But how was it possible? How could she have returned from the dead when the dogs had eaten her heart?

‘Tom Ward! How easily you fell into my hands! Ever since you approached our shore I have been watching and waiting!’ she cried. ‘It took the
simplest
of spells to lure you into my cottage. And how well you obeyed me, leaving your precious staff at the threshold. Now you are totally in my power. My life will end soon, my spirit given up in sacrifice to Pan. You will die too, but only after suffering terribly for what you did to my sister.’

Sisters … Were they twins? They looked so alike. I wanted to ask her, but I was almost too weak to draw breath. How much blood had the little creature taken? I wondered. I fought to remain conscious, but my head began to spin and I fell into darkness. The witch had promised to make me suffer, but I already felt close to death – although there was no fear; just a terrible weariness.

How long I was unconscious I don’t know, but when I came to, I heard voices: a man and a woman talking together quietly. I tried to make sense of what they were saying – something about barrows and travelling north. At last I managed to find the strength to open my eyes. The two of them were standing over me – Scarabek, the witch, and the man called Thin Shaun.

But was he really a man or something else? His hood was pulled back, revealing an emaciated head that could almost have been that of a corpse. The skull was clearly visible, the skin thin and parchment dry, his hairless head covered in patches of dry, flaking skin.

‘He conceals a deadly weapon in the left pocket of his cloak,’ said Scarabek. ‘Take it from him, Shaun. I cannot bear to touch it.’

Thin Shaun reached into my pocket. I had no strength to resist, and he drew out my silver chain. As he did so, I saw the pain upon his face: with a shudder, he dropped it on the ground, out of my reach.

‘He used that to bind my sister before she was slain. But he won’t ever need to use it again. His life as an apprentice spook is over. We’ll take him north now, Shaun,’ said the witch. ‘I’m going to hurt him badly and let him feel something of the suffering I experienced.’

I was dismayed at the loss of my silver chain, but at least he hadn’t discovered the blood jar in my pocket.

Thin Shaun came across, picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, just as my master would carry a bound witch before putting her into a pit. He held me by the legs so that my head was hanging down towards his heels. I lacked the strength to resist, and was aware of a strange musty smell emanating from him, an odour of dank underground places. But what really unnerved me was the extreme coldness of his body; even though I could feel and hear him breathing, it was as if I was being carried by a dead man.

Curiously, though my body was weak, my mind became strangely alert. I tried to practise what the Spook had taught me and take careful note of my situation.

We left the cottage and headed north, Scarabek taking the lead and carrying the creature in the woollen shawl close to her bosom as if it were a human baby. Perhaps it was her familiar. A witch usually gave a familiar her own blood, but this was often augmented by blood from her victims. The most common familiars were cats, rats, birds and toads, but sometimes witches used something more exotic. I had no name for the thing she was carrying; it certainly wasn’t mentioned in the Spook’s Bestiary. But I was dealing with a witch from a foreign land, and her powers and habits were largely unknown to me.

To the east the sky was already becoming lighter. I must have slept for at least a day and a night. The fog was lifting and I could see the bulk of two mountains rising up ahead and to the right. And then I caught sight of something else – the unmistakable shape of a burial mound – and we were moving directly towards it. It was small, hardly more than twice the height of a man, and covered in grass. When we were less than five yards away, there was an intense flash of yellow light. As it dimmed, I saw the silhouette of the witch against a round doorway.

Moments later, the breeze died down and the air immediately became significantly warmer; we were surrounded by darkness, right inside the barrow. There was sudden flare of light and I saw that the witch was holding a black candle, which she’d just ignited by magic. Within the mound stood a table, four chairs and a bed, to which she pointed.

‘Put him there for now,’ she instructed, and Thin Shaun dumped me on it without ceremony. ‘It’s time to feed him again …’

I lay there for several minutes, struggling to move. I was still suffering from that strange paralysis. The witch had gone into another room within the barrow, but Shaun stood there silently, his unblinking eyes staring down at me. I was starting to feel a little stronger, and my heart and breathing were gradually returning to normal. But I guessed that Scarabek was now going to feed me more of the gruel laced with poison. If only I could manage to regain the full use of my limbs.

She returned within minutes, carrying a small bowl. ‘Lift his head, Shaun,’ she commanded.

With his right hand, Thin Shaun gripped my shoulder, lifting the top part of my body almost upright. This time the witch had a small wooden spoon, and as she brought it towards me, she held my forehead firmly while, with his left hand, Shaun tugged my jaw downwards, forcing my mouth wide open.

The witch kept stuffing the spicy gruel into my mouth until I was forced to either swallow or choke. As the concoction went down my gullet, she smiled.

‘That’s enough for now – let him go,’ she said. ‘Too much will kill him, and I have other plans for him first.’

Thin Shaun lowered me back onto the bed and stood beside Scarabek. They stared down at me while my mouth grew dry and the room started to spin.

‘Let’s go out and get the girl,’ I heard the witch say. ‘He’ll be safe enough here.’

The girl –
Which girl?
I wondered. Did they mean Alice? But then, once again, I felt my heart flutter and I fell into darkness. I knew no more for a while but kept having dreams of flying and falling. For some strange reason I was compelled to jump from a cliff, spreading my arms wide like a bird’s wings. But then I would plunge downwards out of a dark sky, the unseen ground rushing up to meet me.

I felt someone shaking me roughly by the shoulder; then cold water was dashed into my face. I opened my eyes to see Thin Shaun staring down and smell his foul breath. He stepped back to reveal that there were two other people in the room. One was the witch; the other was Alice.

My heart lurched. Alice looked dishevelled and her hands were bound behind her back.

‘Oh, Tom!’ she cried. ‘What have they done to you? You look so ill—’

But the witch interrupted. ‘Worry about yourself, child!’ she cried. ‘Your time on this earth is almost over. Within the hour I will give you to your father, the Fiend.’

AS THIN SHAUN
picked me up again, I heard Scarabek cry some word of dark magic. Seconds later we were standing outside the burial mound. It was dark once more, and there was a waxing crescent moon; the air was very cold, a hoar frost already forming over the soft boggy ground.

We headed north, the witch’s fist bunched in Alice’s hair as she dragged her along. The familiar had been left behind in the barrow.

Alice had been beyond the protection of the blood jar, so why, I wondered, hadn’t the Fiend come for her already? We’d both expected that, at the first opportunity, he’d take his revenge.

So was the witch going to summon him now? If so, the blood jar would prevent him from coming near. Did she know about it? Would she break it and give us both to the Fiend?

The landscape was bleak and treeless but covered with scrub and brambles, and it was to a tangled thicket that the witch finally led us. She dragged Alice over to a large thorny bush and tied her by the hair to its intertwined branches. While I watched from Thin Shaun’s shoulder, horrified at what was taking place, Scarabek circled the bramble patch three times against the clock, chanting dark spells. Alice began to weep. Her knowledge of the craft would tell her exactly what the witch was doing.

‘Oh, Tom!’ Alice cried. ‘She’s done a deal with the Fiend. She wants to hurt you too. He’ll be here soon.’

‘He will indeed!’ agreed Scarabek. ‘So it’s time to get you yonder so that the Fiend can come and collect the girl. Let’s away!’ she commanded Thin Shaun.

I’d expected – and hoped – to be tied up alongside Alice. Unknown to the witch, I still had the blood jar in my pocket, so he surely couldn’t hurt me.

But I was led away from Alice, up the slope. We gazed back down from on high. Alice looked very tiny, but I could just make out her desperate struggles to get free of the brambles.

I soon found out how wrong I’d been about Scarabek: she knew everything!

‘We’re far enough away now,’ she said, ‘and the girl’s beyond the protection of that jar she made. So that’s the first pain you’ll endure – watching the Fiend take your pretty friend’s life and soul! He’s delighted to have the opportunity to make you suffer. But don’t worry, I won’t let him get his hands on
you
! I intend to give you to the Morrigan.’

Lightning suddenly split the sky to the west as dark clouds raced inland, obscuring the stars. It was followed within seconds by a rumble of thunder, and then, in the ensuing silence, I heard a new sound – that of distant but very heavy footfalls, each followed by an explosive hiss.

Although still mostly invisible, the Fiend was just starting to materialize. He would take on the huge form of what witches called ‘his fearsome majesty’, a shape designed to instil fear and awe in all who beheld him. Some said that the sight could make you die of fear on the spot. No doubt this was true for those of a nervous disposition, but I had been close to him in that form before, and so had Alice, and we’d both survived the encounter.

We were too far away to see his approaching footprints. They were fiery hot, and whereas his cloven hooves could burn their impression into wooden floorboards, in cold boggy terrain like this they would merely cause the ground to spit and hiss, erupting in spurts of steam at each contact.

Although the clouds were almost halfway across the sky now, the moon was still ahead of that dark advancing curtain, and by its light I saw the Fiend materialize fully. Even at this distance he looked huge: thick and muscular, his torso shaped like a barrel, his whole body covered in hair as thick as the hide of an ox. Huge horns curved from his head and his tail snaked upwards in an arc behind him.

My heart was in my mouth as he strode directly towards Alice, who was struggling in vain to tear herself free of the brambles. I could hear her screams of terror. I tried to struggle out of Thin Shaun’s grip, but he was very strong and, in my weakened condition, my efforts were feeble.

Towering above Alice, the Fiend reached down with his huge left hand and knotted his fist in her hair, as the witch had done, tearing her free of the brambles and lifting her up so that her face was level with his own. She screamed again as her hair was ripped from the thicket, and began to weep. The Fiend loomed closer, as if intending to bite off her head.