The Spook's Blood (Wardstone Chronicles) Page 3

  ‘Grimalkin said that the lamias created the gibbet as an act of worship,’ Alice said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. ‘It was an offering to your mam.’

  I nodded. On our previous visit, the Spook and I had wondered what the purpose of the gibbet was. Now I knew. I was dealing with things that had very little to do with the warm caring person I remembered. Mam had lived far beyond the normal human span, and her time spent on the farm as a loving wife and the mother of a family of seven boys had been relatively short. She had been the very first lamia; she had done things that I didn’t care to think about. Because of that I’d never told my master her true identity. I couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing what she’d done and thinking badly of her.

  THERE WAS NO sign of the lamia so we began to climb the steps that spiralled up around the inner walls. High in the ceiling above, the lamias had enlarged the trapdoor into an irregular hole to allow themselves easier access. We clambered through this and continued up more stone steps, worn concave by the pointy shoes of many generations of Malkin witches, our footsteps echoing off the walls. We were still underground, and water was dripping from somewhere in the darkness far above. The air was dank, the light of Alice’s candle flickering in a cold draught.

  We began to pass the cells where the witches had once incarcerated their enemies. On our last visit to the tower, we had spent some time in one of them, fearing for our lives. But when two of the Malkins had come to slay us, Alice and Mab Mouldheel had pushed them off the steps and they had fallen to their deaths.

  There was a noise from inside and I saw Alice glance at the door of our former prison. She raised her candle and headed for the entrance. I followed, staff held at the ready, but it was just a rat, which darted past us and scampered down the steps, long tail trailing after it like a viper. As we started to climb again, Alice looked down to the place where her enemies had died. She shuddered at the memory.

  In a strange way, that natural reaction gladdened my heart. By exerting her magical power, Alice might have moved closer to the dark, but she was still able to feel emotion and was not so hardened that she had lost herself, finally surrendering her innate goodness.

  ‘It was a bad time, that!’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Don’t like to be reminded of what I did there.’

  My brother, Jack, his wife, Ellie, and their young child, Mary, had also been prisoners in that cell. As they’d opened the cell door, a witch had uttered words that chilled me to the bone:

  Leave the child to me, she’d said. She’s mine . . .

  At that moment Alice and Mab had attacked them.

  ‘You did what you had to do, Alice,’ I reassured her now. ‘It was them or us. And don’t forget that they came to kill a child!’

  At the top of the steps we emerged into the storehouse, with its stink of rotting vegetables. Beyond this lay the living quarters, once home to the Malkin coven and their servants. Mam’s trunk was there – the one that contained her notebooks and artefacts. It was open, and beside it stood the lamia, Slake.

  The trunks had been stolen from our farm and brought here by the Malkin witches. Mam’s two lamia sisters had been hidden in the other two trunks. I had released them and they’d driven the witches from the tower. Since then, it had been safer to just leave the trunks here, guarded by the lamias.

  Slake’s face was now bestial in appearance, and her body was covered in green and yellow scales. Her wings were almost fully formed and folded across her shoulders. Was she still able to speak? I wondered.

  Almost as if she had read my mind, she spoke, her voice harsh and guttural. ‘Welcome, Thomas Ward. It is good to see you once more. Last time we met I was unable to speak; soon I will lose that ability once more. I have much to say to you and we have little time.’

  I bowed before replying. ‘My thanks for guarding the trunk and its contents and keeping them safe for me. I was sorry to learn of the death of Wynde, your sister. You must feel very lonely now.’

  ‘Wynde died bravely,’ the lamia rasped. ‘It is true that I am lonely after spending so many long happy years in the company of my sister. I am ready to leave the tower and find others of my kind, but your mother has commanded me to stay until you have learned all there is to know here. Only when you have destroyed the Fiend will I be free to fly away.’

  ‘I was told that there is an artefact in the trunk – a sacred object that might help my cause. May I see it?’ I asked.

  ‘It is for your eyes only. The girl must leave while I show it to you.’

  I was about to protest when Alice spoke up.

  ‘It’s all right, Tom. I’ll go back and meet Agnes,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘There is another with you?’ asked Slake, extending her talons.

  ‘Remember the witch who was slain below the tower? Her name is Agnes Sowerbutts and her body was carried to Witch Dell by your sister,’ Alice explained. ‘She is still an enemy of the Fiend. As a powerful dead witch, she will be a strong and useful ally.’

  ‘Then go and guide her to us,’ the lamia commanded.

  Alice left the room and I heard her pointy shoes descending the stone steps. Alone with the lamia, I suddenly felt nervous, my senses on full alert. She was dangerous and formidable, and it was difficult to be at ease in the presence of such a creature.

  ‘In all, there are three sacred objects which must be used to destroy the Fiend,’ hissed the lamia. ‘The first is already in your possession – the Destiny Blade given to you by Cuchulain. It is fortuitous that it came into your possession – otherwise you would have needed to journey to Ireland again in order to retrieve it.’

  Slake had used the word ‘fortuitous’, suggesting that the blade had come into my hands by chance. But the name alone told the truth of the matter. It was destiny that had united me with it. We were meant to be together; intended to bring about the final destruction of the Fiend. Either that, or I would die in the attempt.

  ‘This is the second object,’ she went on, reaching down into the trunk. Her clawed hand emerged clutching a dagger. One glance told me that its slim blade was crafted from a silver alloy, a material particularly effective against denizens of the dark.

  The lamia held it out to me handle first, and the moment my fingers touched it I knew instinctively that I had also been born to bear this weapon. Although far smaller, visually it was the twin of the Destiny Blade, its handle shaped in the form of a skelt’s head, the blade taking the place of the bone-tube used to take its victims’ blood. The skelt was a deadly creature that lurked in narrow crevices close to water. When somebody passed by, it would dart out and thrust that long bone-tube into their neck. When I went to work with the spook Bill Arkwright, I had been attacked by such a creature and he saved me by smashing its head in with a stone.

  No sooner had I gripped the handle of the dagger than the two ruby eyes began to drip blood.

  ‘Was this also forged by Hephaestus?’ I asked. He was the Old God who had crafted special weapons for his peers – the greatest blacksmith who had ever existed.

  Slake nodded her fearsome head. ‘Yes, he forged all three of the sacred objects. They are known as “hero swords”, although in truth two of them are just daggers. Some say that they were once used as swords by the Segantii, the little people who once dwelt in the north of the County.’

  I remembered seeing the small stone graves chiselled out of rock to hold the bodies of the Segantii. In their hands the daggers would have indeed seemed as large as swords.

  ‘Do I need all three?’ I asked.

  ‘All three must be used together. I know where the other is to be found – though it lies in a place that is inaccessible to mortals. It is hidden within the dark, but it could be brought forth by one who is brave, powerful and resourceful.’

  ‘I’m not that brave,’ I said, ‘and I doubt I have the power, but if someone has to venture into the dark it must be me.’

  The Old God Pan had told me that. Each powerful dark entity had its own
private dwelling within the dark – a huge place with many domains, the most powerful and dangerous belonging to the Fiend.

  ‘Your mother, Zenobia, knows precisely where it is to be found. She will tell you herself and explain what must be done.’

  ‘What? Mam will speak to me. When?’ I asked excitedly. ‘When will that happen?’

  ‘She will appear tonight within this chamber – but to you alone. Her words are for your ears only.’

  That night I waited in the chamber, sitting beside Mam’s trunk. A single candle flame danced on the table nearby, sending grotesque shadows flickering up onto the far wall.

  I had spoken to Alice and explained the situation and she hadn’t seemed put out. ‘It’s natural, Tom, that after all this time apart your mam would want to speak to you alone,’ she’d said. ‘It is family business, after all, ain’t it? I’ll just settle down here with Agnes. You can tell me all about it in the morning.’

  Thus Alice, Agnes and Slake were somewhere in the lower part of the tower, leaving me to a lonely, excited but nervous vigil. I wondered what form Mam would take to visit me. Would she be the fierce lamia with snow-white wings like the angels of myth, or the warm understanding Mam who had cared for me as a child?

  There had been another surprise. I was prepared to make an immediate start, sifting through the materials in the trunk, hoping to learn more about the ritual I must perform – how the hobbling of the Fiend could be extended to destroy him for ever. But Slake had told me that this would no longer be necessary. It seemed that with Mam’s guidance she had already done the necessary decoding and had written down the instructions to be given to me after Mam had made contact.

  At first I was excited, longing to see Mam again, and couldn’t sleep. But gradually I grew weary and my head began to nod. I kept jerking awake and opening my eyes, but finally I must have fallen into a deep sleep.

  Then, very suddenly, I was wide awake again, my heart thudding in my chest. The candle had gone out but there was another light – a pale, bright column – in the room beside me. Standing before me was Mam – in the shape she had assumed back in Greece just before the final battle with her terrible enemy, the Ordeen. Her cheekbones were high and sharply defined; her cruel eyes those of a predator. I felt nervous and upset, and a small cry escaped my lips as my heart began to beat more rapidly – I didn’t like seeing her in this form. She was nothing like the woman who had been a mother to me and my brothers. Her body was covered in scales very similar to Slake’s, and sharp talons sprouted from her fingers and toes, but her folded wings were exactly as I remembered them – covered in white feathers. Then, as I watched, to my relief, she began to change.

  The wings shrank rapidly, withering back into the shoulders; the scales melted away, to be replaced by a long dark skirt and blouse and a green shawl. The most significant change was to the eyes: they softened, lost their cruelty and were filled with warmth; then she smiled, radiating love.

  It was Mam just as she had been back on the farm; the woman who had loved my dad, raised seven sons and been the local midwife and healer. And it seemed to me that she wasn’t simply an apparition; she looked as solid a presence here as she’d ever been in our farmhouse kitchen.

  Tears were running down my cheeks now, and I stepped forward to embrace her. The smile slipped from her face, she stepped backwards and held up a hand as if to ward me off. I stared at her, baffled, as my tears of joy changed to those of rejection and hurt.

  Mam smiled again. ‘Dry your eyes, son,’ she said softly. ‘More than anything in the world I would love to give you a hug, but it just isn’t possible. Your spirit is still clothed in human flesh, whereas mine has a very different covering. Were we to touch, your life would be over. And you’re needed in this world. You still have much to do. Maybe even more than you realize.’

  I rubbed my eyes with the backs of my hands and did my best to smile back. ‘Sorry, Mam – I understand. It’s just so good to see you again.’

  ‘And it’s good to see you too. But now we must get down to business. I cannot remain in this world for more than a few minutes at a time.’

  ‘It’s all right, Mam. Just tell me what I have to do.’

  ‘You now have the dagger and also, through your own endeavours, the sword in your possession. The third artefact is to be found in the dark. It is hidden right at the heart of the Fiend’s lair – under the throne within his citadel. Slake will instruct you on the ritual that needs to be performed, and with those three sacred objects in your possession you will be able to destroy the Fiend for all time. I had only two but was still able to hobble him. You will complete what I began.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ I told her. ‘I want you to be proud of me.’

  ‘Whatever happens, Tom, I’ll always love you and be proud of you – but now we come to the really difficult part . . . Even if I’d had all three objects, I would still have failed – because the most important part of the ritual is the sacrifice of the person you love best on this earth. In your case it is she whom you most love.’

  I was appalled and opened my mouth, but no words came out. Finally I managed to speak. ‘You, Mam? I have to sacrifice you?’

  ‘No, Tom,’ she replied. ‘It must be a living person, and although I know you still love me, there is one now living in this world whom you care for even more.’

  ‘No, Mam!’ I cried. ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘Look into your heart, son, and you will see that it is true. Every mother must face the time when her son cares for another woman more.’

  She was telling me something that, deep down, I already knew. The full import of her words dawned on me.

  ‘No! No! You can’t mean that!’ I protested.

  ‘Yes, son, it grieves me to say so but there is no other way. In order to destroy the Fiend, you must sacrifice Alice.’

  ‘I MUST TAKE Alice’s life?’ I cried. ‘Is there no other means?’

  ‘It is the only way, Tom – the price that must be paid – and she must offer her life willingly. So I leave it to your own judgement when you tell her what must be done.

  ‘I faced something very similar but was unable to do it,’ Mam continued. ‘My sisters tried to persuade me to kill your father or give him to them to devour. Then, later, they begged me to use him as a sacrifice to enhance the power of my magic. Without all three sacred objects, it would not have succeeded in destroying the Fiend, but I would have increased the limitations on his power. I decided against it because there was already a spark of love between me and your father – and I saw the future: how I could give birth to you, the seventh son of a seventh son, and forge you as a weapon to destroy the Fiend.’

  Mam’s words disturbed me. She was describing me as if I were an asset, something to be used against our enemy, rather than a cherished son.

  ‘But I think you will prove to be more disciplined than I was: you have a strong sense of duty, its seed planted by your father and nurtured by John Gregory. Not only that – my powerful blood flows within your veins, along with my gifts. Use everything that I have bequeathed to you. You must destroy the Fiend, whatever the cost, or the consequences will be terrible. Imagine a world completely in thrall to the dark! There would be famine, disease and lawlessness. Families would be divided; brother would kill brother. The Fiend’s servants would be unchecked, preying on men, women and children, devouring their flesh and drinking their blood. And where would you be, son? You would know that it was your failure that had brought about that horror. Even worse – you would no longer care because you would have lost yourself; yielded your soul to the Fiend. All that could come to pass unless you act decisively. The people of the County and the wider world beyond need you to perform this deed. I am sure you won’t let them down – despite the cost to you personally. I’m sorry, son, but I can stay no longer. Destroy the Fiend – that’s what is important. It is your destiny! It is why you were born.’

  Mam began to fade and I called out desperately. ‘Please,
Mam, don’t go yet. We need to talk some more. There’s got to be another way. This can’t be right! I can’t believe what you’re asking me to do!’

  As she faded, she changed back into the fierce lamia with the feathered wings. The last thing I saw was her cruel eyes. Then she was gone.

  The room was immediately plunged into darkness so, with shaking hands, I eased the tinderbox out of my pocket and managed to light the candle. Next I sat down on the floor beside the trunk and examined the tinderbox, turning it over and over in my hands. It had been the last thing Dad had given me when I left home to become John Gregory’s apprentice. I could see him now in my mind’s eye and I remembered his exact words:

  I want you to have this, son. It might come in useful in your new job. And come back and see us soon. Just because you’ve left home, it doesn’t mean that you can’t come back and visit.

  The tinderbox had certainly proved useful in my line of work and I’d used it many times.

  Poor Dad! He’d worked hard on the farm but had not lived to enjoy his retirement. I thought back to the story of how he’d met Mam in Greece. Dad was a sailor then, and he’d found her bound to a rock with a silver chain. Mam had always been vulnerable to sunlight, and her enemies had left her to die on a mountainside. But Dad had saved her, shielding her from the sun.

  Before sailing back to the County with her to begin his new life as a farmer, Dad had stayed at her house in Greece. Something he’d told me about his time there made sense now. Mam’s two sisters sometimes came after dark, and the three of them danced around a fire in the walled garden; he’d heard them arguing and thought that the sisters had taken against him: they used to glare at him through the window, looking really angry, and Mam would wave him away.

  The two sisters were the lamias Wynde and Slake, who’d then been transported to the County hidden in Mam’s trunks. They continued to argue with her, and now I knew why. They had been trying to persuade her to strengthen the hobble on the Fiend by sacrificing Dad.