Spook’s: I Am Grimalkin (13 page)

Without another word I stuffed the apple and thorns into the ugly mouth and pushed him back into the sack. I was shaking with anger.

Later, Thorne and I both dipped into the books in the large trunk but discovered nothing of any direct use. I did read something written on a single sheet of paper – Tom’s mother’s account of how she had hobbled the Fiend. But, unlike the faded ink of the other notebooks, this seemed to have been written very recently – surely it could not be her hand?

The Dark Lord wished that I return to his fold and make obeisance to him once more. For a long time I resisted, while taking regular
counsel
from my friends and supporters. Some advised that I bear his child, the means used by witches to be rid of him for ever. But even the thought was abhorrent to me
.

At the time I was tormented by a decision that I must soon make. Enemies had seized me, taking me by surprise. I was bound with a silver chain and nailed to a rock so that at dawn the sun’s fierce rays would destroy me. I was rescued by a sailor, John Ward, who shielded me from the sun and freed me from the silver chain
.

Later we took refuge in my house, and it soon became clear that my rescuer had feelings for me. I was grateful for what he had done, but he was a mere human and I felt no great physical attraction to him. However, when I learned that he was the seventh son of his father, a plan began to take shape within my mind. If I were to bear him sons, the seventh would have special powers when dealing with the dark. Not only that: the child would carry some of my attributes, gifts that would augment his other powers. Thus, this child might one day have the ability to destroy the Fiend. It was not easy to decide what to do. Bearing his seventh child might give me the means to finally destroy my enemy. Yet John Ward was just a poor sailor. He came from farming stock. Even if I bought him a farm of his own, I would still have to live that life with him, the stench of the farmyard forever in my nostrils
.

My sisters’ counsel was that I kill him or give him to them. I refused because I owed him my life. The choice was between turning him out of my house so he could find a ship to take him home, or returning with him
.

But to make the second option a possibility, I first had to hobble my enemy, the Fiend. This I did by subterfuge. I arranged a
meeting
on the Feast of Lammas – just the Fiend and me. After choosing my location carefully, I built a large bonfire, and at midnight made the necessary invocation to bring him temporarily into our world
.

He appeared right in the midst of the flames, and I bowed to him and made what seemed like obeisance – but I was already muttering the words of a powerful spell and I had the two sacred objects in my hand
.

As I read this account, it seemed to me that Zenobia had hated the Fiend as much as I did and had taken a risk similar to mine when she had summoned him. It had been good to fight beside her in Greece. And now, although no longer clothed in flesh, she was still an entity to be reckoned with. It was gratifying to have her on my side.

I continued reading:

Despite all his attempts to thwart me, I successfully completed the hobble, paving the way for the next stage of my plan, which began with my voyage to the County and the purchase of a farm
.

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 of whom I was once fond
.

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 neighbours whenever I could. Thus it was that a
human
, John Ward, the man who saved me, moved me down a path I had not foreseen
.

I could not see how this provided information that might help Thomas Ward to destroy the Fiend, but combined with the other snippets of writing to be found in the trunk, it might tell us something. It was vital that the Spook’s apprentice should come and make his own thorough search of the trunk. I resolved to contact Alice again when I got the chance and tell her to bring him to visit the tower once more.

‘Who wrote this?’ I asked Slake.

‘It is in my hand,’ she replied. ‘It was originally written by Zenobia in code, the text scattered throughout her notebooks. She appeared in a vision to us and granted me the key to unlock this account.’

‘What were the sacred objects of which she spoke?’

‘One of them is in the trunk,’ she replied. ‘The other is elsewhere.’

‘Where is the other one?’

‘I do not know.’

‘What is the one in the trunk? Show it to me!’ I demanded.

Slake shook her head and regarded me sideways from the corners of her eyes. ‘I may not show it to you. Zenobia has dictated that only Thomas Ward may see it.’

I nodded. ‘Then guard it well until he can return to this place. You said he must come here soon. How urgent is it?’

‘He must visit well before Halloween. Otherwise it may be too late.’

‘Our need to destroy the Fiend is indeed urgent,’ I replied. ‘But why
this
Halloween? What is its significance?’

‘There is a cycle of such feasts. The most propitious occurs every seventeen years. In October it will be thirty-four – twice seventeen – years since Zenobia hobbled the Fiend.’

‘So we have until then …?’

Slake nodded. ‘That is all the time that remains.’

But for the problem of the kretch and the other enemies who pursued us, I would have gone directly to Chipenden and brought Tom Ward to the tower to begin his search of the chests. But how could I lead them here and place him in danger?

I must destroy my enemies first. And time was short. It was already late in the month of April.

At last it was time to make our escape north, so I climbed up onto the battlements, carrying the leather sack, flanked by Thorne and Slake. I looked down across the clearing towards the dark line of enclosing trees. There was heavy cloud above and a slight breeze from the west. The poor light would help us to escape unseen. I sniffed quickly three times.

The kretch and the mage were absent, but one witch remained – perhaps as a spy. I would give her something to report back!

I untied the sack, drew forth the severed head of the Fiend and held it up high, facing towards the spot where I knew the witch to be hiding.

‘I smell the blood of a witch!’ I cried. ‘Did you not heed my
warning
yesterday? The blame for what I am about to do will fall upon you and
you alone
. Imagine what tortures the Fiend will devise to pay you back for this!’

With these words I drew a dagger and readied it to plunge the blade into the Fiend’s remaining eye. There was a cry of distress from the trees, and then the sound of running feet diminishing into the distance.

I smiled and spat on the Fiend’s forehead again. ‘You may keep your second eye for a little while longer,’ I said before returning him to the sack.

That done, Thorne and I thanked Slake and took our leave, sensing her sadness. She had shared her sister’s life for centuries and was now alone.

We made our escape through the tunnels. There were no enemies lying in wait at the entrance so we headed north, keeping close to Pendle Hill and passing to the west of Witch Dell. A dead witch only returns to consciousness when the light of the full moon first falls upon her leaf-covered grave. That was still several days away – otherwise I would have entered the dell and paid my respects to Agnes Sowerbutts.

Just south of the village of Downham we turned west and headed downhill towards Clitheroe. There were no lights showing from the town, but a fire blazed on the battlements of the castle confirming that it was occupied.

Suddenly I saw flashes, they were inside my head, flickering a warning in the corners of my eyes.

This time it was about five minutes before the other symptoms began.

I lost my balance, stumbled and fell to my knees. I felt a sharp pain in my chest and I struggled to breathe.

Thorne tried to help me to my feet, but I pushed her away. ‘No, child, leave me – it will pass in a moment.’

But it was a long hour before the world stopped spinning about me and an anxious Thorne was able to help me to my feet again. It would have been better to rest further before entering the ruins of the town but we could not afford the delay. It would not be long before my enemies sniffed the direction I’d taken; soon the kretch would be following our trail once more.

Breathing heavily, I led Thorne down towards the outskirts of the town. The buildings that surrounded the castle were still in darkness but robbers might be lurking there. I came to a halt and knelt on the grass, signalling that Thorne should crouch beside me.

‘I have had heard rumours that Clitheroe is occupied by more than one group,’ I told her. ‘The strongest band of villains will hold the castle itself, the weaker groups taking what shelter they can amongst the ruins of the town.’

‘No doubt they’ll be bickering and fighting amongst themselves,’ Thorne observed.

‘Yes – and that is very much to our advantage as it means that they cannot muster their full force effectively.’

I sniffed the lower reaches of the town for danger and found only sleeping men. We moved cautiously forward past the outlying buildings and into the narrow rubble-strewn streets. Most of the houses were without roofs and the place stank of filth and rot. We began to climb the hill on which the castle stood,
picking
our way through the streets without being challenged, but at last we came to the high outer stone wall of the fortification. There was no moat and the gate was wide-open. Just outside, a man was sitting on a bench beside a brazier of softly glowing coals. He tottered to his feet looking at me in astonishment. Then a bulky figure stepped out of the shadows behind him.

‘Look, lads! Women!’ the big man cried. ‘What a gift from Heaven!’

I opened my mouth and smiled broadly, showing him my pointy teeth.

His face fell. ‘There’s an old saying – never look a gift horse in the mouth. But it’s best to know the truth,’ he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

‘Yes,’ I said softly, ‘we are a gift from Hell.’

Thorne moved close to my side and drew two daggers.

‘You are mere men! What chance can you possibly have against us?’ I jibed, drawing my own blades, hoping to provoke the two bandits into making a reckless attack. I had sensed others hiding nearby also.

The man lifted his heavy spear and pointed it at us, while more men ran to his assistance from the shadows, gathering at his back. They formed a tight bunch behind him and carried an assortment of weapons. Some looked like they had been in the army; they were most likely deserters, because the war was still being fought to the south of the County. One even wore a tattered uniform with a red rose epaulette. There were only nine of them, and the big man with the spear was obviously their leader.

‘Stay close to me, child, and guard my back,’ I whispered into Thorne’s ear. ‘I’ll kill the one with the spear first.’

I ran straight at him. He was big and strong but clumsy, and I parried his spear-thrust with ease. When my blade found his heart, his eyes opened wide in pained astonishment and he collapsed at my feet. Thorne despatched two to my rear while I concentrated on wounding as many of the others as possible. I had killed their leader, and that was enough. I simply wanted to drive them away from the castle. Moments later they had fled, most of them bleeding.

‘Now for the battlements,’ I said.

We entered the castle and climbed the narrow spiral steps cautiously, alert for danger. The battlements appeared to be deserted but the fire was still burning there, and I could sniff someone’s presence – one person: male; young.

Was he waiting in ambush? As we approached the fire, I realized that he was capable of no such thing. He was lying against the wall, gagged and bound from head to foot – a boy of no more than fifteen. I knelt beside him and he flinched as I cut through his bonds, regarding me with wide, terrified eyes.

I returned my blade to its sheath, then pulled him up into a sitting position and took the gag out of his mouth. His face was dirty and covered in bruises, his left eye swollen. But despite that evidence of mistreatment he was good-looking, with blue eyes and fair hair.

‘What’s your name, boy?’ I asked.

He flinched again when I spoke. He was watching my mouth, probably appalled by the sight of my teeth.

I meant the boy no harm, but it gave me satisfaction to see fear in another’s eyes. It was a confirmation of who I was. I liked to instil terror and respect.

‘W-Will,’ he answered, a slight stammer in his voice.

‘Well, Will, what did you do to deserve being treated like this?’

‘My father is a knight. I was snatched by these bandits, and those escorting me were slain. They’re trying to ransom me, but my father can’t afford what they are asking. He owns extensive lands, but they are tenanted by many poor farmers and he has little money. Tomorrow they are planning to cut off one of my fingers and send it to him.’

‘Your parents must be very upset. It is a terrible thing to abduct a son in this way.’

‘My mother passed away three years ago in a plague that swept through the northern lands. But, yes, my father loves me very much.’

‘Well, you’re free to go back to him, boy,’ I told him. ‘But leaving this stronghold is not a good idea at the moment. There are men down there who would cut your throat as soon as look at you. Where is your home?’

‘It’s to the north, on the County border. No more than five hours on foot.’

‘Does your father know where you are being held captive?’

‘He may, but they’ve told him they’ll kill me if he or his men attempt a rescue.’

I nodded, then peered down over the battlements towards the open gate. A group of armed men were gathered just
beyond
it, looking up towards us. It was time to close the gate and deter any who might be foolish enough to venture in.