The Spook's Sacrifice Read online

  The Spook nodded. 'Maenads rarely venture from their homeland, Greece. They're a tribe of women who inhabit the wilderness there, living off the land – eating anything from wild berries to animals they find wandering across their path. They worship a bloodthirsty goddess called the Ordeen, and draw their power from a mixture of wine and raw flesh, working themselves up into a killing frenzy until they are ready for fresh victims. Mostly they feed upon the dead but they're not averse to devouring the living. This one had anointed her face to make her appear more ferocious; probably with a mixture of wine and human fat – and wax to hold the two together. No doubt she'd killed someone recently.

  'It's a good job you managed to knock her down and bind her, lad. Maenads have exceptional strength.

  They've been known to tear their victims to pieces using just their bare hands! Generations of them have lived like that, and as a result they've regressed so that now they're barely human. They are close to being savage animals but they still have a low cunning.'

  'But why would she sail all the way here to the County?'

  'To kill you, lad – that's plain enough. But why you should pose a threat to them in Greece I can't imagine.

  Your mam's there fighting the dark though, so no doubt this attack has something to do with her.'

  Afterwards the Spook helped me unwrap my silver chain from the body of the maenad and we dragged her into the eastern garden. We dug a narrow pit for her, deeper than its length and breadth, me doing most of the work as usual. Then we eased her into that dark shaft head first. She wasn't a witch, but the Spook never took any chances with servants of the dark – especially those we didn't know too much about. One night when the moon was full, dead or not, she might try to scratch her way to the surface. She wouldn't realize that she was heading in the opposite direction.

  That done, the Spook sent me down to the village to find the local stonemason and blacksmith. By late evening they'd fashioned the stones and bars over her grave. It hadn't taken my master long to deduce the answer to his two other questions. He'd found two small wooden bloodstained troughs right at the edge of the garden. Most likely they'd been full of blood before the boggart had drunk its fill.

  'My guess, lad, is that there was something mixed into the blood. Maybe it made the boggart sleep, or confused it. That's why it didn't detect the maenad entering the garden and later killed her when it shouldn't have. Pity she died. We could have questioned her and found out why she'd come and who'd sent her.'

  'Could the Fiend be behind it?' I asked. 'Could he have sent her to kill me?'

  The Fiend, also known as the Devil, had been loose in the world since the previous August. He'd been summoned by the three Pendle witch clans – the Malkins, Deanes and Mouldheels. Now the clans were at war with each other – some witches in thrall to the Fiend, others his bitter enemies. I'd encountered him three times since then, but although each encounter had left me shaken to my very bones, I knew it was unlikely the Devil would try to kill me by his own hand because he'd been hobbled.

  Just as a horse can be hobbled, having its legs tied together so it can't wander too far, the Fiend had been hobbled by someone in the past; his power limited. If he chose to kill me himself, he would rule the world for only a hundred years, a span that he would consider far too short. So, according to the rules of the hobble, he had one choice: get one of his own children to kill me, or try to win me to his side. If he could manage to convert me to the dark, he'd rule the world until its very end. That's what he'd tried to do the last time we met. Of course, if I died by some other hand – that of the maenad, for example – then the Fiend might slowly come to dominate the world anyway. So had he sent her?

  The Spook was looking thoughtful. 'The Fiend? It's a possibility, lad. We must be on our guard. You were lucky to survive that attack.'

  I almost reminded him that it was the intervention of Alice rather than luck but thought better of it. It had been a hard night and nothing would be gained by annoying him.

  The following night I found it hard to sleep and after a while I got out of bed, lit my candle and started to re-read Mam's letter, which I'd received in the spring.

  Dear Tom,

  The struggle against the dark in my own land has been long and hard and is approaching a crisis. However, we two have much to discuss and I do have further things to reveal and a request to make. I need something from you. That and your help. Were there any way at all to avoid this, I would not ask it of you. But these are words that must be said face to face, not in a letter, and so I intend to return home for a short visit on the eve of midsummer.

  I have written to Jack to inform him of my arrival so I look forward to seeing you at the farm at the appointed time. Work hard at your lessons, son, and be optimistic, no matter how dark the future seems. Your strength is greater than you realize.

  Love,

  Mam

  In less than a week it would be midsummer and the Spook and I would be travelling south to visit my brother Jack's farm and meet Mam. I had missed her and couldn't wait to see her. But I was also anxious to find out what she wanted from me.

  CHAPTER

  2

  THE SPOOK'S BESTIARY

  The following morning it was lessons as usual. I was in the third year of my apprenticeship to my master and was studying how to fight the dark: in the first year I'd learned about boggarts, in the second, witches; now my topic was 'The History of the Dark'.

  'Well, lad, prepare to take notes,' commanded the Spook, scratching at his beard.

  I opened my notebook, dipped my pen into the bottle of ink and waited for him to begin the lesson. I was sitting on the bench in the western garden. It was a sunny summer's morning and there wasn't a single cloud in the wide blue sky. Directly in front of us were the fells, dotted with sheep, while all around we heard birdsong and the pleasant drowsy hum of insects.

  'As I've already told you, lad, the dark manifests itself in different ways at different times and different places,' said the Spook, beginning to pace up and down in front of the bench. 'But, as we know to our cost, the most formidable aspect of the dark in the County and in the wider world beyond is the Fiend.'

  My heart lurched and I had a lump in my throat as I remembered our last encounter. The Fiend had revealed a terrible secret to me. He had claimed that Alice was also his daughter – the Devil's daughter. It was difficult to imagine, but what if it was true? Alice was my closest friend and had saved my life on more than one occasion. If what the Fiend had told me really was true, it would mean that the Spook had been right to banish her: we could never be together again – the thought of it was almost impossible to bear.

  'But although the Fiend is our biggest concern,' continued the Spook, 'there are other denizens of the dark who, with assistance from witches, mages or other meddling humans, are also able to pass through portals into our world. Numbered amongst them are the Old Gods such as Golgoth, whom you'll remember we dealt with on Anglezarke Moor.'

  I nodded. That had been a close-run thing and had nearly cost me my life.

  'We must be grateful that he's sleeping once more,' said my master, 'but others are very much awake. Take your mam's homeland, Greece. As I told you yesterday, a fierce female deity called the Ordeen, who is worshipped by the maenads, has caused bloodshed there on a vast scale since time immemorial. No doubt she's at the heart of all that your mam's trying to contend with.

  'There's not a lot I know about the Ordeen. But apparently she arrives with her followers, who kill everything that moves for miles around. And the maenads, who are usually scattered across Greece, gather in large numbers to await her arrival. They're like vultures ready to feast upon the flesh of the dead and the dying. For them it's a harvest, a time of plenty, the reward they receive for their worship of the Ordeen and her followers. No doubt your mam will have lots more to tell us – there are blank pages in my Bestiary that need to be filled.'

  The Spook's Bestiary, one of the biggest and most interesti
ng books in his library, was full of all manner of terrible creatures. But there were gaps where information was scarce and he updated it whenever he could.

  'I do know, however, that unlike the other Old Gods, the Ordeen doesn't need human assistance to pass through a portal into this world. Even the Fiend needed the help of the Pendle witches. But it seems that she can pass through her portal at will – and also return when she pleases.'

  'The "followers" who arrive with her through the portal – what are they like?' I asked.

  'They are denizens of the dark: daemons and elementals. The daemons mostly have the appearance of men or women but possess terrible strength and are very cruel. In addition there are the vaengir – flying lamia witches. So many have now joined her that only a few remain elsewhere – they live alone or in pairs like your mam's sisters. Imagine what it must be like when the Ordeen arrives – a host of those creatures swooping down from the sky to rend and tear the flesh of their victims! It doesn't bear thinking about, lad!'

  It certainly didn't. Mam's two sisters were flying lamias. They'd fought on our side during the battle on Pendle hill, wreaking havoc on the three witch clans who opposed us.

  'Aye, it's a dangerous place, Greece. Your mam has much to contend with . . . There are also feral lamia witches – the ones who scuttle about on four limbs.

  They're very common in Greece, especially in the mountains. After this lesson's over I suggest you go up to the library, look them up in my Bestiary, revise your knowledge of them and enter a summary of what you find in your notebook.'

  'You mentioned that "elementals" live with the Ordeen as well? What kind are they?' I asked.

  'Fire elementals – something we don't have in the County, lad. But I'll tell you what I know about them on another day. For now we'd better continue your study of the Old Tongue, which is much harder to learn than Latin or Greek.'

  The Spook was right. The rest of the lesson was so difficult it made my head hurt. It was very important that I learn the Old Tongue though: it was commonly used by the Old Gods and their disciples; also in grimoires – books of dark magic used by necromancers.

  I was relieved when the lesson came to a close and I was able to go up to my master's library. I really enjoyed my visits there. It was the Spook's pride and joy and he'd inherited it, along with the house, from his own master, Henry Horrocks. Some of the books had belonged to previous spooks and went back many generations; some had been written by John Gregory himself. They chronicled a lifetime of knowledge acquired practising his trade and fighting the dark.

  The Spook always worried that something might happen to his library: when Alice was staying with us, her job had been to make extra copies of the books, writing them out by hand. Mr Gregory believed that one of his main duties was to preserve that library for future spooks, adding to the fund of knowledge whenever possible.

  There were racks of shelves containing thousands of books but I headed straight for the Bestiary. It was a list of all sorts of creatures, from boggarts and daemons to elementals and witches, along with personal accounts and sketches where the Spook described how he'd dealt with the dark. I flicked through the pages until I came to 'Lamia Witches'.

  The first Lamia was a powerful enchantress of great beauty. She loved Zeus, the leader of the Old Gods, who was already married to the goddess Hera. Unwisely, Lamia then bore Zeus' children. On discovering this, in a jealous rage, Hera slew all but one of these unfortunate infants. Driven insane by grief, Lamia began to kill children wherever she found them so that streams and rivers ran red with their blood and the air trembled with the cries of distraught parents. At last the Gods punished her by shifting her shape so that her lower body was sinuous and scaled like that of a serpent.

  Thus changed, she now turned her attentions to young men. She would call to them in a forest glade, only her beautiful head and shoulders visible above the lush green grass. Once she had lured him close, she wrapped her lower body around her victim tightly, squeezing the breath from his helpless body as her mouth fastened upon his neck until the very last drop of blood was drained.

  Lamia later had a lover called Chaemog, a spiderthing that dwelt in the deepest caverns of the earth. She bore him triplets, all female, and these were the first lamia witches. On their thirteenth birthday they quarrelled with their mother and, after a terrible fight, tore off all her limbs and ripped her body into pieces. They fed every bit of her, including her heart, to a herd of wild boar.

  The book then went on to describe the different types of lamia witch – what they looked like, how they behaved – and, most importantly for a spook, how to deal with them. I knew quite a lot about lamia witches already. The Spook had lived for years with a domestic lamia witch called Meg and had kept her feral sister, Marcia, locked in a pit in the cellar of his Anglezarke house. They had both returned to Greece, but during my time at Anglezarke I'd learned a lot about them.

  I continued to read, making brief notes as I did so. It was very useful revision. There was a reference to the flying lamias, called vaengir, which the Spook had mentioned earlier. My thoughts turned to Mam. Even as a young child I'd known that she was different. She had a slight accent, which marked her out as someone who'd not been born in the County. She shunned direct sunlight and during the day often had the kitchen curtains closed.

  Over time my knowledge of Mam had grown. I'd learned how Dad had come to her rescue in Greece.

  And then later she'd told me that I was special, a seventh son of a seventh son and her gift to the County, a weapon to be used against the dark. But the final pieces of the puzzle were still missing. What exactly was Mam?

  Mam's sisters were vaengir – flying feral lamias who, as the Spook had just explained, were only rarely found beyond the Ordeen's portal. They were now in Malkin Tower, guarding her trunks, which contained money, potions and books. It seemed to me that Mam must also be a lamia. Probably vaengir too. That seemed most likely.

  It was another mystery I needed to solve – though I couldn't just ask her outright. It seemed to me that Mam had to tell me herself. And I might find out the answer very soon.

  Late in the afternoon, given a few hours off by the Spook, I went for a stroll on the fells: I climbed high onto Parlick Pike, watched the shadows of clouds slowly drifting across the valley below and listened to the lapwings' distinctive peewit calls.

  How I missed Alice! We'd spent many a happy hour strolling up here with the County spread out below. Walking alone just wasn't the same. I was impatient now for the week to pass so the Spook and I could set off for Jack's farm. I was really looking forward to seeing Mam and finding out what she wanted from me.

  CHAPTER

  3

  A CHANGELING?

  On the morning we were due to set off, I walked down into Chipenden village to pick up the Spook's weekly provisions from the baker, the greengrocer and the butcher – after all we would only be away a few days. At the last shop I told the proprietor, a large red-bearded man, that if anyone came on spook's business and rang the bell at the withy trees, it would have to wait.

  As I walked back through the village, my sack was lighter than usual because of the food shortages. To the south of the County the war was still raging and the reports were bad. Our forces were retreating and so much food was being taken to feed the army that the poorest people were close to starvation. I noted that in Chipenden conditions had deteriorated further. There were more hungry faces, and some houses had been abandoned, the families travelling north in the hope of a better life.

  The Spook and I set off at a good pace, but even though I was carrying my staff and both our bags as usual, I didn't mind at all. I just couldn't wait to see Mam. After a while though, as the morning began to warm up, the Spook slowed down. I kept getting ahead and having to wait for him to catch up. He began to get rather irritated with me.

  'Slow down, lad! Slow down!' he complained. 'My old bones are struggling to keep up. We've set off a day early – your mam won't ar
rive until midsummer's eve anyway!'

  Late in the evening of the second day, even before we reached the summit of Hangman's Hill, I saw smoke rising into the sky from the direction of the farm. For a moment fear clutched at my heart. I remembered the raid carried out by the Pendle witches last year: they'd burned our barn to the ground before ransacking the house and abducting Ellie, Jack and little Mary.