The Spook's Mistake Read online

  To Mr Gregory of Chipenden

  'I'd know that handwriting anywhere. About time too!' my master commented, annoyance strong in his voice. 'Well, girl, thanks for that. Now run along!'

  With a downward turn of her mouth, Alice obeyed. She knew she'd find out what Arkwright had written soon enough.

  The Spook opened the letter and began to read while I waited impatiently.

  When he'd finished, he handed it to me with a weary sigh. 'You might as well look too, lad. It concerns you . . .'

  I began to read, my heart slowly sinking into my boots as I did so.

  Dear Mr Gregory,

  My health has been poor of late and my duties heavy. But although it's not a good time for me to be burdened by an apprentice, I cannot refuse your request for you were always a good master to me and gave me a sound training that has served me well.

  At 10 o'clock on the morning of the eighteenth day of October, bring the boy to the first bridge over the canal north of Caster. I will be waiting there.

  Your obedient servant,

  Bill Arkwright

  'You don't need to read between the lines to tell that he's none too keen to take me on,' I commented.

  The Spook nodded. 'Aye, that's plain enough. But Arkwright always was a bit down in the mouth and overly concerned with the state of his health. Things probably won't be half as bad as he makes out. He was something of a plodder, mind, but he did complete his time and that's more than can be said for most of the lads it's been my misfortune to train!'

  That was true enough. I was the Spook's thirtieth apprentice. Many apprentices had failed to complete their training; some had fled in fear while others had died. Arkwright had survived and had plied our trade successfully for many years. So, despite his seeming reluctance, he probably had a lot to teach me.

  'Mind you, he's come on a lot since he's been working by himself. Ever heard of the Coniston Ripper, lad?'

  Rippers were a dangerous type of boggart. The Spook's last apprentice, Billy Bradley, had been killed by a ripper: it had bitten off some of his fingers and he'd died of shock and loss of blood.

  'There's an entry in the Bestiary in your library about it,' I told him.

  'So there is, lad. Well, it killed over thirty people. Arkwright was the one who dealt with it. Ask him about it when you get the chance. No doubt he's proud of what he did, and so he should be. Don't let on what you know – let him tell you the story himself. Should help to get your working relationship off to a good start! Anyway,' the Spook said, shaking his head, 'that letter's barely arrived in time. It's best if we get to bed early tonight and set off soon after dawn.'

  My master was right: the meeting with Arkwright was scheduled for the day after tomorrow and it was about a day's journey to Caster over the fells. But I wasn't feeling too happy at having to set off so suddenly. He must have noticed my glum face because he said, 'Cheer up, lad, Arkwright's not that bad . . .'

  And then his expression changed as he suddenly understood what I was feeling.

  'Now I see what's the matter. It's the girl, isn't it?'

  I nodded. There would be no place for Alice at Arkwright's house, so we'd be parted for about six months. Despite all the mollycoddling I'd suffered recently, I was going to miss her. Miss her badly.

  'Couldn't Alice just travel with us to the bridge?' I asked.

  I expected the Spook to refuse. After all, despite the fact that Alice had saved our lives on more than one occasion she was still half Deane and half Malkin, and came from witch-clan stock. My master didn't fully trust her and rarely involved her in our business. He still believed that one day she might fall under the influence of the dark. I was glad he didn't know how convincingly she'd appeared as a malevolent witch the other day.

  But, to my astonishment, he nodded his agreement. 'I don't see why not,' he said. 'Off you go and tell her now.'

  Fearing that he might change his mind, I left the kitchen immediately and went to look for Alice. I expected to find her in the next room, copying one of the books from the Spook's library. But she wasn't there. To my surprise she was outside, sitting on the back step, staring out at the garden with a gloomy expression on her face.

  'It's chilly out here, Alice,' I said, smiling down at her. 'Why don't you come back inside? I've got something to tell you . . .'

  'Ain't good news, is it? Arkwright's agreed to take you, hasn't he?' she asked.

  I nodded. We'd both been hoping that Arkwright's delayed reply meant he would refuse the Spook's request. 'We're setting off early tomorrow,' I told her, 'but the good news is that you're coming with us to see me off at Caster . . .'

  'To me that's a lot of bad news with hardly a pinch of good. Don't know what Old Gregory's fretting about. That press gang ain't coming back, are they?'

  'Maybe not,' I agreed. 'But he wants to get me off to Caster at some point and now seems as good a time as any. I can hardly refuse . . .'

  Although I hadn't mentioned it to Alice, I also reckoned that one reason the Spook was sending me to Arkwright's was to get me away from her for a while. Once or twice recently I'd noticed him watching when we were laughing or talking together, and he kept warning me about getting too close to her.

  'Suppose not,' Alice said sadly. 'But you will write to me, Tom, won't you? Write every week. That way it'll make time pass more quickly. Won't be much fun for me alone in the house with Old Gregory, will it?'

  I nodded but I didn't know how often I'd be able to manage it. The post wagon was expensive and letters cost money to send. The Spook didn't usually give me money unless it was for a specific need, so I'd have to ask him and I didn't know how he'd react. I decided to wait and see what sort of a mood he was in at breakfast.

  'That was one of the best breakfasts I've ever tasted,' I said, mopping up the last of my runny egg yolk with a large piece of bread. The bacon had been fried to perfection.

  The Spook smiled and nodded in agreement. 'That it was,' he said. 'Our compliments to the cook!'

  In response, a faint purring could be heard from somewhere under the large wooden table, showing that the pet boggart appreciated our praise.

  'Could I borrow some money for my stay with Mr Arkwright?' I asked. 'I wouldn't need very much . . .'

  'Borrow?' asked the Spook, raising his eyebrows. 'Borrow suggests that you intend to pay it back. That's not a word you've used before when I've given you money for your needs.'

  'There's money in Mam's trunks,' I told him. 'I could pay you back next time we visit Pendle.'

  My mam had returned to her homeland, Greece, to fight the rising power of the dark there. But she'd left me three trunks. As well as potions and books, one of them had contained three large bags of money, which were now safely stored in Malkin Tower, guarded by Mam's two feral lamia sisters. In their domestic form lamias had the appearance of human females but for a line of yellow and green scales on their spines. However, these two sisters were in their wild state, with insect-like wings and sharp talons. They were strong and dangerous and could keep the Pendle witches at bay. I wasn't sure when we'd be going back to Pendle but I knew it would happen one day.

  'So you could,' replied the Spook in answer to my suggestion. 'Is there anything special that you want money for?'

  'It's just that I'd like to write to Alice each week—'

  'Letters are expensive, lad, and I'm sure your mam wouldn't want you to fritter away the money she left you. Once a month will be more than adequate. And if you're writing to the girl, you can send me a letter as well. Keep me informed about everything that's going on and put both letters in the same envelope to keep the costs down.'

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alice's mouth tighten as she listened to what he said. We both knew that it wasn't really the money that concerned him. He'd be able to read what I'd written to Alice and do the same with her letter once she'd replied. But what could I say? A letter a month was better than nothing so I'd just have to make the best of it.

  After b
reakfast the Spook took me to the small room where he kept his boots, cloaks and staffs. 'It's about time I replaced that staff of yours that got burned, lad,' he told me. 'Here, try this one for size.'

  He handed me one made from rowan wood, which would be very effective against witches. I lifted it and checked the balance. It was perfect. Then I noticed something else. There was a small recess near the top – the right size to accommodate my forefinger.

  'I think you know what that's for!' exclaimed the Spook. 'You'd best try it. See if it's still in good working order.'

  I eased my finger into the recess and pressed. With a loud click, a sharp blade sprang out of the other end. My previous staff hadn't had a retractable blade – though I'd once borrowed the Spook's. But now I'd have my own.

  'Thanks,' I told him with a smile. 'I'll take good care of it!'

  'Aye, and better care than you took with the last one! Let's hope you don't have to use it, lad, but it's better to be safe than sorry.'

  I nodded, then rested the point of the blade against the floor, exerted pressure and eased it back into its recess.

  Within the hour, the Spook had locked up the house and we were on our way. My master and I were each carrying our staffs but, as usual, I was carrying both bags. We were well wrapped up against the cold – he and I in our cloaks, Alice in her black woollen winter coat, its hood up to keep her ears warm. I even wore my sheepskin jacket – though in truth it wasn't a bad morning at all. The air was crisp, but the sun was shining and it was good to be walking towards the fells heading north towards Caster.

  As we began to climb, Alice and I drew a little way ahead so that we could talk out of earshot. 'It could be worse,' I told her. 'If Mr Gregory was planning to go to his winter house, you'd have to go with him and we'd be at opposite ends of the County.'

  Usually the Spook wintered at Anglezarke, far to the south, but he'd already told me that this year he'd remain in his more comfortable house in Chipenden. I'd just nodded and made no comment. I supposed it was because Meg Skelton, the love of his life, was no longer in Anglezarke and the house held too many painful memories. She and her sister, Marcia, were lamia witches and the Spook had been forced to send them back to Greece, even though it had broken his heart.

  'Ain't telling me anything I don't know already,' Alice said bitterly. 'Still too far apart to visit each other, aren't we, so what difference does it make? Anglezarke or Chipenden – still adds up to the same thing in the end!'

  'It's no better for me, Alice. Do you think I want to spend the next six months with Arkwright? You should have read the letter he sent. He says he's ill and doesn't even want me there. He's only taking me grudgingly as a favour to the Spook.'

  'And do you really think I want to be left at Chipenden with Old Gregory? He still doesn't trust me and probably never will. Won't ever let me forget what's been an' gone, will he?'

  'That's not fair, Alice – he's given you a home. And if he found out what you'd done the other night, you'd lose it for ever and probably end up in a pit.'

  'I'm sick of telling you why I did it! Don't be so ungrateful. Not in league with the dark and never will be – you can be sure of that. Once in a while I use what Lizzie taught me because I have no choice. I do it for you, Tom, to keep you safe. Nice if you could appreciate that,' she snapped, glancing behind to see that my master was still at a safe distance.

  We both lapsed into silence after that and even the brightness of the morning couldn't lift our mood. The day wore on as we trudged north. It was nearly a month beyond the autumn equinox and the daylight hours were shortening, with the long cold winter approaching. We were still descending the lower slopes east of Caster when the light began to fail so we found ourselves a sheltered hollow to bed down in for the night. The Spook and I gathered wood and got a fire going while Alice caught and skinned a couple of rabbits. Soon they were spitting and hissing in the flames while my mouth began to water.

  'What's it like to the far north of Caster?' I asked the Spook.

  We were sitting cross-legged before the fire while Alice turned the spit. I'd offered to help but she'd have none of it. She was hungry and wanted the rabbits cooked to perfection.

  'Well,' my master replied, 'some say it's got the best scenery in the whole County and I wouldn't argue with that. There are mountains and lakes, with the sea to the south. To the very extreme north of the County there's Coniston Lake and the Big Mere east of it—'

  'Is that where Mr Arkwright lives?' I interrupted.

  'Nay, lad, not so far north as that. There's a long canal that runs in a northerly direction, from Priestown through Caster and into Kendal. His house is on the west bank. It's an old watermill fallen into disuse but it serves him well enough.'

  'What about the dark?' I asked. 'Anything in that part of the County that I haven't met before?'

  'You're still green behind the ears, lad!' snapped the Spook. 'There are plenty of things you've still to face and you don't need to go north of Caster to find 'em! But what with the lakes and the canal, danger mostly comes from the water in those parts. Arkwright's the expert on water witches and other creatures that make their homes in bog and slime. But I'll let him tell you himself. It'll be his job to train you for a while.'

  Alice continued to turn the spit while we sat staring into the flames. She was the one to break the silence and there was concern in her voice.

  'Ain't happy that Tom's going to be up here alone,' she said. 'The Fiend's in the world permanent now. What if he comes looking for Tom and we're not around to help him?'

  'We must look on the bright side, girl,' the Spook replied. 'Let's not forget that the Fiend has visited this world many times before. It's not the first time he's been here.'

  'That's true enough,' agreed Alice. 'But apart from the first time, usually they were short visits. Some coven or witch would call him up. Lots of stories about that, there are, but most agree that Old Nick never stuck around for more than a few minutes at most. Just time enough to make a bargain or grant a wish in exchange for a soul. But this is different. He's here to stay, with plenty of time to do exactly what he wants.'

  'Aye, girl, but no doubt the Fiend'll be busy finding mischief of his own to carry out. Do you think he wanted to be bound to the will of the covens? Now that he's free he'll do what he pleases – not what they told him to do. He'll be dividing families, turning husband against wife and son against father; placing greed and treachery in human hearts; emptying churches of their congregations; making food rot in the granary and cattle waste away and die. He'll swell the savagery of war into a blood-tide and make soldiers forget their humanity. In short, he'll be increasing the burden of human misery and making love and friendship wither like crops struck by the blight. Aye, it's bad for everyone, but for now Tom's probably as safe as anyone who follows our trade and fights the dark.'

  'What powers does he have?' I asked, feeling nervous with all this talk of the Devil. 'Is there anything more you can tell me? What should I be most worried about if he does come looking for me?'

  The Spook stared at me hard, and for a moment I thought he wasn't going to answer. But then he sighed and began to summarize the powers of the Fiend.

  'As you know, it's said that he can take on any shape or size he likes. He may resort to trickery to get what he wants, appearing out of thin air and looking over your shoulder without you knowing it. At other times he leaves a calling card – the Devil's mark – a series of cloven-hoof prints burned into the ground. Why he does that is anyone's guess but it's probably just to scare people. Some believe that his true shape is so appalling that one glance would kill you from sheer terror. But that might just be a story to scare children into saying their prayers.'

  'Well, the idea of it certainly scares me!' I said, glancing over my shoulder into the darkness of the hollow.