The Spook’s Revenge: Book 13 (Spooks) (8 page)

BOOK: The Spook’s Revenge: Book 13 (Spooks)
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‘Only you can do it!’ she hissed. ‘If they cross the sea to Ireland, then you must do the same. Follow them as far as is necessary! You’re not a boy any longer. You’re a man. You have the sword. Was Bone Cutter still in my hand?’

‘Yes, it’s safe.’

‘I know Alice gave you the other dagger, Dolorous. You have all three blades now, and the gifts from your mam. What’s more, you’re a seventh son of a seventh son. So go and do what’s necessary. Kill anyone who stands in your way, but bring back the Fiend’s head!’

GRIMALKIN COLLAPSED BACK
against her pillow, fighting for breath, her eyes closed. The effort had exhausted her. I quickly left the room and went to find the Spook. As I expected, he was sleeping in his chair in the kitchen, close to the embers of the fire.

‘My turn is it, lad?’ he asked, opening his eyes at the sound of my boots crossing the flags towards him. He thought I’d come to wake him for his turn to watch over Grimalkin.

I realized I had to make my mind up about how much to tell him. I decided to leave out any reference to Alice and Grimalkin’s use of the
Doomdryte
. He would have considered that unforgiveable, and the greatest of follies. I just concentrated on the need to recapture the sack and its contents.

I shook my head. ‘Grimalkin said I had to go after those witches and try to recover the Fiend’s head.’

‘The odds against you are very great, lad. You might well be going to your death.’

‘It’s death and worse for all of us if those witches reunite the head with the body.’

I thought my master would protest more, but all he did was apologize.

‘I’d go with you if I could,’ he said sadly, ‘but I haven’t the speed for such a pursuit. You’d never catch them with me dragging at your heels.’

As quickly as I could, I prepared for my journey. I didn’t take my bag because it would only hinder me. I wouldn’t need my silver chain – I wouldn’t be taking any prisoners to bind in pits. Salt and iron would also be an unnecessary encumbrance. So I wore the sword and the two daggers in their sheaths and, carrying my staff, prepared to set off into the night.

The Spook was waiting at the door. He had a small parcel of cheese for me, which I stuffed into the inside pocket of my cloak.

‘I fear for you, lad,’ he said, patting my shoulder. ‘If anyone else were setting out alone after them, I’d think it a hopeless task. But I’ve seen what you can do.’

Then he did a strange thing: he shook my hand – something that happened very rarely, because nobody wanted to shake hands with a spook. Even when my dad and John Gregory had agreed the terms of my apprenticeship, they hadn’t shaken hands. He’d certainly never taken mine before.

It made me feel strange. In one way it was as if he was treating me as an equal – a fellow spook rather than just the apprentice that he was training. Yet I felt a chill in my heart. It seemed like the end of something.

I headed west at a fast walking pace. When I came to the river Ribble, I had to make a decision: which bank should I follow towards the sea? Had they gone north or south? Soon the river would become too wide and deep to cross. If I got it wrong, I would have to go into Priestown, a place where spooks weren’t welcome, and cross the bridge there. It would mean several hours’ delay.

I found no evidence of tracks to the north, so I took a chance, crossed at the next ford, opting for the south bank of the Ribble. Then I pressed on, breaking into a jog. Those I hunted had almost an entire day’s start on me. Would they have made camp for the night? That was surely my only real chance of catching them before it was too late.

According to Grimalkin, there were over a dozen of the Fiend’s servants, with perhaps more joining them on their journey. But such a large group would draw attention, especially as many of them were witches. So would they split up into smaller units? After all, their main objective would be to get the Fiend’s head to the pit where his body was bound – Kerry in the southwest of Ireland. One person could do that. They could all converge later.

Soon after dawn I had my first piece of good luck. Beside the path was a pond; the earth around it had been churned into mud by cattle – and there were a dozen or more fresh tracks; the majority clear imprints of pointy shoes.

I could find no trace of a man’s boot. I thought Lukrasta might be with the witches, Alice his prisoner, but I knew Alice’s tracks well and saw no sign of her either. That made my heart drop into my boots – I’d hoped that in following the witches I would also find Alice.

Half an hour later, I faced my first threat. But it wasn’t witches.

As I passed a farm, a big farmer suddenly stepped out from behind a barn into my path. He had broad shoulders and well-muscled arms, but a bulbous belly hung down over his leather belt.

‘You a spook?’ he demanded belligerently.

I nodded.

‘Well, where were you last night when you were needed?’

He was angry and unreasonable, so I tried to placate him.

‘On my way here,’ I replied calmly.

‘Well, you’re too late to be any use to me. There were witches here last night – dozens of ’em. Helped themselves to three pigs and most of my hens. What are you going to do about it? You owe me compensation. It’s your job to stop things like that happening.’

Most people are nervous in the company of a spook. They think that we’re contaminated by the dark. But very occasionally we get angry reactions such as this. The man’s livelihood had suffered, and he wanted to take it out on someone. I looked young and I was smaller than him, so I would do.

With a snarl, he stepped towards me, hands outstretched, intending to grip my shirt front. I dodged to the side and ran towards the gate that led to the next field. I could hear his heavy boots pounding across the grass behind me. He was fast for a big man: he would catch me as I clambered over the gate.

I didn’t want to hurt him, but I had to do something. I spun quickly and rapped him twice with the base of my staff: one blow to his left shin; the other to his right forearm. He dropped to his knees with a groan, which gave me a chance to climb over the gate. I ran on, and when I glanced back he was still on the other side, shaking his fat fist at me.

Soon it started to rain, a cold wind blustering into my face from the west. If anything, this drove me on faster. I ran all morning, pausing to catch my breath only briefly. Twice I found the tracks of those I pursued. They were still together, and three or four new witches had joined the group.

The third time I found their tracks, it was at a crossroads. They were heading south. Liverpool seemed the most likely port for a boat to Ireland. Would they have already arranged passage? They’d been hunting Grimalkin for many months. It could well be that plans were already in place to return the Fiend’s head to Kerry.

By noon I was exhausted and desperately in need of rest, so I sat on the edge of a ditch in the lee of the wind and the rain, and nibbled at the cheese my master had given me. I remained there no more than five minutes. After slaking my thirst with the icy-cold water of a nearby stream, I ran on.

All morning, desperate thoughts had been churning around inside my head – mainly fears for Alice. Perhaps I’d been mistaken, and her pointy shoe prints had simply been obscured by those of her captors? That made me run even faster.

I’d also speculated about the Wardstone and what might happen on Halloween. What was it Mab had said about something that would change the world?

Finally, as the late afternoon gave way to evening, I ran on without thought, numb and weary, driving myself on in pursuit of my enemies. I thrust to the back of my mind the fear that when I caught up with them I would achieve nothing. It was all very well for Grimalkin to send me off after them; to say that only I could retrieve the Fiend’s head. But the odds against me were too great. How could I defeat so many? How could I hope to rescue Alice as well? I began to wonder if they knew that I was following them. Witches could long-sniff the approach of danger; this didn’t work against seventh sons of seventh sons, so I was safe from that, but of course they might have a scryer with them. Someone with even half the ability of Mab Mouldheel would see that I was on their trail. Then again, there were many non-magical means of protecting themselves against pursuit.

Once the witches knew that they were being followed, they might wait in ambush. A couple of them would peel off to the side and make their way back towards me. It would be impossible to tell that this had happened until it was too late.

That’s exactly what they did.

But there were more than two.

Five witches lay in wait for me.

The rain had stopped and the clouds were in shreds. The sun had dropped below the horizon; soon the light would begin to fail.

I was now moving at a slow jog. Before long I would have to stop and snatch a few hours of sleep. As I moved into a forest, I immediately sensed that something was wrong. It was too quiet. The birds should not have been roosting yet. Seconds earlier, the countryside had been filled with song. Now, in the deeper gloom beneath the branches, all was silent.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone running towards me from behind and to my left. Without breaking stride, I swung hard, widdershins, with the base of my staff. There was a dull thud, and the satisfying feel of contact with a skull. My attacker went down and I ran on.

However, I’d made a mistake and I knew it. I heard the voice of Grimalkin in my head; a fierce rebuke filled with scorn.
Fool! Fool!
that imaginary voice cried.
That one will get up and attack again. You are greatly outnumbered. Kill or be killed!

That was what she would have said. Now I had one enemy behind me as well as many ahead. So I pressed the button on my staff to release its blade. Next time I would show no mercy.

Suddenly a long-haired witch burst out of a group of saplings close by; she attacked, shrieking like a banshee, scattering dead leaves with her pointy shoes. She wielded a blade strapped to a pole and I saw that her lips were flecked with foam. She looked demented; insane with hatred and anger. I barely had time to lift my staff, but somehow I parried her blade and then flicked it upwards so that it arced away from her.

She ran to retrieve her weapon, but I came round in a circle and attacked quickly, thrusting the blade of my staff under her ribs and into her heart. She screamed and fell, and I ran on. I needed to get out of the trees so as to see other attackers earlier.

When I emerged from the forest, three more witches were waiting. They were Pendle witches; their brown garb, long skirts and leather jerkins marked them out as Deanes. They waited in a line, their eyes watchful, confidently wielding their long blades. They looked much more formidable than the previous two.

‘You’re a fool to follow us, boy!’ the tallest one jeered.

All three began to cackle.

‘I’ll drink his blood!’ one cried.

‘I’ll take his thumbs!’ shrieked another.

The third one drew her finger across her neck. ‘I’ll cut off his head,’ she said softly, her voice hardly more than a whisper. ‘That will please our master!’

I thrust my staff blade-first deep into the soft ground and drew the sword and a dagger – the Bone Cutter. They were more flexible weapons.

The ruby eyes in the skelt hilt of the sword seemed to glow in the gloom under the trees. Then both eyes began to drip blood. The sword was hungry.

A second later the dagger also began to bleed.

I concentrated, waiting for them to make a move.

Let them come to me . . .

They did. All three attacked at once.

THE BATTLE WAS
fast and furious, and I had no time to think. All I could do was react as they pressed home their attack. More by luck than skill, I managed to kill two of them: a slash with my sword against a neck; an upward thrust with the dagger, and it was done.

The third witch ran back into the wood.

I followed. She was fast, and by the time we came out of the trees again, I hadn’t managed to close the gap. She had thrown away her weapon in the interests of speed and was heading back in the direction we’d been travelling. Then I saw the witch I’d previously stunned, perhaps two hundred yards ahead, also running away.

BOOK: The Spook’s Revenge: Book 13 (Spooks)
9.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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