Spook’s: Dark Assassin (The Starblade Chronicles) Read online

  I was surprised by her question, coming as it did when we were under threat, but I supposed she had to think of the future.

  ‘Well, you’ll be a spook and will look after your own territory, keeping it safe from the dark, as you’ll have been trained to do. You could base yourself here at the mill, if you like. That way we wouldn’t have far to travel if some difficulty reared its head.’

  Jenny shivered. ‘I don’t like it here. This is the last place I’d want to work.’

  ‘Then what about taking the Anglezarke house?’

  ‘I hate that cold windy moor too. I like Chipenden. Couldn’t I stay there and share the workload with you?’

  ‘Yes, you could certainly do that for a while. After completing his apprenticeship, John Gregory shared the Chipenden territory with his own master. You could do the same but eventually you’d need to strike out on your own. It’s part of the process of developing the responsibilities of a spook. Most of my master’s apprentices – the ones who didn’t run away or die learning the trade – went off to distant parts of the County to practise.’

  We lapsed into silence, then started to gather our things together for the journey, splitting the books between our bags. They would be heavy, but unlike my dead master, John Gregory, I rarely made my apprentice carry mine as well as hers.

  It was then that we heard a scratching and a whining outside. It sounded like a dog, but I gripped my staff as I slowly inched the door open. A big wolfhound limped into the kitchen. It was a sorry sight, its fur wet and caked with mud, with scratches all over its body. It looked up at us pitifully.

  I knelt down and started petting it while it licked my face and panted. Jenny was nervous and kept her distance. Once, when she’d persisted in asking him to train her as a spook, Judd had set the wolfhounds on her.

  ‘So one of the dogs survived the attack,’ she said. ‘Poor thing. Which one is it – Blood or Bone?’

  ‘I think this is Blood,’ I replied. They were hard to tell apart, but there was a small grey streak behind Blood’s left ear.

  ‘Wish dogs could talk,’ Jenny said. ‘Blood would be able to tell us what happened here.’

  ‘Well, we’ll be taking her back to Chipenden with us. It’ll be good to have a dog around again. This should certainly cheer Bill Arkwright up!’

  Our preparations for the journey completed, we waited in the front room. I sat on an empty crate and the dog settled down at my feet. Jenny began to pace up and down, no doubt impatient to be off.

  I glanced around the room, and as usual my eyes were drawn towards the trapdoor in the corner. I wondered what had released the bound water witches; what had ripped away those grilles … It must have been something with incredible strength or magical power. Had Balkai been here?

  Suddenly Blood began to growl, her fur standing on end. I heard approaching footsteps. Was it Arkwright? No – surely it must be danger of some kind – the wolfhound was staring at the door and trembling.

  As I came to my feet, it slowly opened, creaking on its rusty hinges to reveal Bill Arkwright silhouetted against the grey morning light. He stood perfectly still as he stared at us, gripping his staff with its fearsome blade.

  Blood rose to her feet and growled again before advancing towards him carefully. By rights she should have bounded up barking joyfully, to lick him and be petted in return. But her steady advance was as if towards a threat. She looked as if she was about to attack him!

  Nor did he call out a welcome. I’d have expected him to be pleased to find that one of his dogs had survived. But he took four rapid steps into the room and raised his staff, his face twisted in fury, then brought it down hard, the blade aimed directly at the dog.

  He was fast. But Jenny was faster.

  She stepped forward and blocked his lethal thrust with her own staff. The dog bounded away into the corner of the room, and for a moment Jenny and Arkwright stood there, as immobile as statues, glaring at each other. Then he spun on his heel and strode out of the house without a word.

  This was beyond strange.

  ‘Stay here!’ I ordered Jenny, and went after him.

  I didn’t turn round to check that she’d obeyed me, but I might as well have been talking to the wall. I could hear her following close behind me.

  Arkwright was heading towards the waterwheel. When I caught up with him, he was staring down again at the dark turbulent water churning over the banks of stones on either side of it.

  ‘Why would I try to kill my own dog, Master Ward?’ he asked, his expression bleak as he turned to look at me.

  ‘It was just your natural reaction to the threat. It happened so quickly. You just acted instinctively, that’s all,’ I said, offering him an excuse.

  He was clearly troubled. ‘I had enough time to think. I could have used the other end of my staff, and well you know it!’ he retorted. ‘Why did I target my dog with my blade? And why did she attack me in the first place?’

  ‘She hadn’t seen you for a long time. She fought whatever killed Judd and was traumatized. She didn’t know what she was doing.’

  The man’s expression was full of torment. Why had he behaved like that? It seemed as if he wasn’t in control of himself.

  ‘No! I’m the one who doesn’t know what he’s doing. There are too many things wrong with me. My memory’s in pieces. I can’t remember things I should remember. And I would never try to kill my own dog, no matter what the circumstances. That leads me to just one logical conclusion …’

  He paused and glanced down at the wheel again. Then he opened his mouth to speak – but he never got the words out. Jenny spoke for him.

  ‘You’re not Bill Arkwright,’ she said.

  He looked at me, then at Jenny. ‘You’re right, little cat. I’m not Bill Arkwright. So what am I?’

  ‘You’re something from the dark!’ she exclaimed.

  Suddenly the puzzle inside my head was solved, like a key finally turning in a rusty lock. This entity was indeed from the dark – but we weren’t facing a Kobalos mage who’d taken on Bill Arkwright’s shape. This thing had been created to really believe that it was Bill Arkwright.

  However, it had problems with its memory. The key to what this creature was lay in its uncertainties about its own identity.

  ‘You’re a tulpa!’ I exclaimed.

  CHAPTER 11

  QUEEN OF THE WITCHES

  GRIMALKIN

  I FOUND IT hard to believe that Pan should have chosen Hecate to be his partner. I shook my head. ‘Hecate is not an acceptable ally,’ I told him. ‘She is an enemy of the Pendle witches, as you know only too well!’

  Long ago, Hecate had taken for herself the title Queen of the Witches, and all the clans on Earth had sworn to serve her, accepting that she was second in rank only to the Fiend. Later she had taken the side of the Caledonian witches who had invaded the County and tried to take the Pendle district for themselves, coveting its potential for dark magic.

  After a close-fought battle, in which there had been heavy casualties on both sides, the witches from Caledonia had been driven back north. But we Pendle witches had never forgiven Hecate for fighting with them and we no longer accepted her as our queen.

  ‘She may have been the enemy of your Pendle witch clans but the situation has changed,’ Pan replied. ‘Now she is my ally – just as you asked of me – and will fight against the Kobalos and their gods. I badly need her support, and you, Grimalkin, must work with her. There is no other way you can return to Earth. She is waiting for you now on the forest path.’

  He shimmered, and then faded from view, and I looked at Thorne and shook my head. ‘Hecate is mean and vindictive. I fear that her demands will be harsh,’ I said.

  ‘We have little choice,’ Thorne replied.

  ‘I agree. Let us go and see what she wants in return for her aid.’

  We descended the stairs and stepped out onto the grass. Previously there had been no path, but now I could see black pebbles meandering away from us th
rough the forest. Overhead there was now a full moon.

  I led the way, my feet crunching on the pebbles, announcing our approach. I had thought we were safe here in Pan’s domain, but I felt anxious. Hecate was linked to the moon, and from it she drew part of her power. The sudden appearance of such a moon here suggested that she had brought its manifestation with her. After all, this domain belonged to Pan, and Alice had told me that his sky was always dark; the only source of light was that green glow.

  Pan was still weak after his fight with Golgoth. Could he protect us against Hecate if she became hostile? Would he protect us? After all, she was a goddess, so he probably considered her the more important ally. We were no doubt expendable.

  Let Hecate do her worst, I thought. We would not go down without a fight.

  I would have stepped off the path to avoid making so much noise, but now the forest had closed in, and saplings and scrub came right to the edge. But soon the undergrowth receded again, and I had a clear view of what awaited us.

  Directly ahead I saw a crossroads, a tall, dark, cowled figure standing at its centre. Hecate. I could feel the malevolence radiating from her.

  Before her stood a huge, bubbling black cauldron from which yellow steam rose. It was at least six feet in diameter and was almost as high as Hecate’s shoulder. Her left hand rested casually upon its rim, her fingers stroking the metal, and she was smirking.

  Cauldrons were traditionally forged from iron to contain the powerful dark magic spells brewed within them. Yet iron caused witches pain and could weaken them; they often used servants to tend and move cauldrons. By caressing the iron rim, Hecate was demonstrating her strength. But she did not impress me. I could do the same. Throughout my life as a witch assassin I had worked to raise my tolerance of pain.

  I looked up and saw, on the branches above her head, three large ravens regarding us with silent malice.

  ‘Do those birds serve the witch?’ I asked Thorne.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘They are Watchers, able to report to her on events in the world of the living. I have used such creatures myself.’

  ‘Stay slightly to my left and to my rear,’ I warned her. ‘At my signal, draw your blades.’

  ‘How can we fight a goddess?’ she whispered as we approached the tall, intimidating figure.

  ‘We may have no choice, child,’ I replied. ‘If we are to die again, then so be it. But I will not go down without a fight.’

  It was significant that Hecate had chosen to meet us at such a place. She was linked to crossroads, where she would snatch souls or confront her enemies. Four ways radiated from her cauldron, and she determined the right of passage and direction of those she preyed upon. She was also known as the Goddess of the Crossroads.

  I halted five paces from the cauldron and smiled at her politely, though I did not bow, as she might have expected. She would be aware of the challenge.

  ‘You know what we wish for,’ I told her. ‘We are here to learn the price that we must pay.’

  ‘Indeed, Grimalkin, there is always a price to pay for the services of a deity,’ said Hecate with a grim smile. ‘What you wish for can be achieved: I will join my power with that of Pan, and you will be returned to Earth. But it will not be as you imagine. What do you think it will be like?’

  ‘As long as I can use my weapons to destroy the Kobalos and free their female slaves, nothing else matters,’ I replied.

  ‘Bravely spoken, but now I will tell you exactly what you will experience. Do not think that you will be returned to Earth with a beating heart and warm blood coursing through your veins. You will never again dine on fish or meat or berries. Nor will you sip cool water from mountain streams or feel the warmth of the sun on your skin. Firstly, each return to Earth will be extremely painful and you may only dwell there during the hours of darkness. Before the cock crows you must return to the dark or else be burned to ashes by the first rays of the morning sun. Are you prepared to accept that?’ she asked.

  ‘I am,’ I told her. ‘By what means will I journey between Earth and the dark?’

  ‘By an act of will and an acceptance of the pain of transit. Wish it, and it will be done.’

  ‘What weapons and powers will I have in order to fight and defeat our enemies?’ I wanted to know.

  ‘You will have what you had before – your blades, scissors and martial skills. Additionally, you will have greater speed and strength. During the hours of darkness you will be invisible, if you so wish, able to move swiftly and silently and slay with impunity. You will be my dark assassin, and the Kobalos mages and their dark army will be your primary target.’

  ‘For what you offer, that price is acceptable,’ I told her.

  Hecate smiled. ‘I fear that you misunderstand me somewhat, Grimalkin. I outlined the conditions of your return to Earth. I have not yet stated the price.’

  I did not like the gloating smile that illuminated the goddess’s face. I feared that the price she asked would indeed be terrible.

  I was correct.

  ‘The price is the blood of the girl who cowers behind you.’

  Thorne stepped forward, but I put my finger to my lips to bid her to remain silent.

  ‘Why do you need the blood of Thorne?’ I demanded angrily. ‘Why do you demand that particular price?’

  ‘The girl has great bravery and potential. Her blood holds power. She took the thumb-bones of the daemon Beelzebub and now wears them around her neck. I will drain her blood and take her bones and wear them around my neck, next to those of the daemon. Thus my own strength will be enhanced.’ Hecate had a gloating expression on her face. ‘For what I offer, the price must be great. In taking the blood of Thorne and casting her into oblivion, I will be hurting you, Grimalkin. You failed to protect her back on Earth and now you will fail again. That will cause you terrible grief; it will give me great satisfaction to triumph over one of the Pendle witches, the foolish clan who rebelled against my rule.’

  I reached down and stroked the hilt of a throwing dagger, tensing myself for action. Then I drew in a deep breath and relaxed.

  ‘Thorne and I need to confer about this,’ I told the dark queen. ‘If we agree to your demands, we will require a little more time together to say our farewells.’

  ‘You may take a little time, but not too much. The threat from our enemies grows steadily. I will be waiting here at the crossroads to hear your decision.’

  I glanced up at the three ravens, then turned and led Thorne back down the black pebble path to the tree. We climbed the steps and entered our chamber in silence. I removed my blades and scissors from their sheaths and laid them carefully down in a row.

  I spat upon my whetstone, then picked up each weapon in turn and began to sharpen it carefully.

  ‘Why are you sharpening your blades, Grimalkin?’ Thorne asked.

  ‘All the better to cut things with.’

  CHAPTER 12

  THE BOILING CAULDRON

  GRIMALKIN

  ONE BY ONE I sharpened my blades, returning each to its leather sheath – except my favourite one, which I handed to Thorne.

  ‘Do not sheathe this,’ I told her. ‘Tuck it into the belt of your skirt and cover its hilt with your jerkin.’

  I picked up my snippy scissors, spat upon the whetstone again and sharpened them with great care. Finally I returned the scissors to the sheath under my left armpit and smiled at Thorne.

  ‘The bones of the daemon Beelzebub which you wear around your neck – would you give them to me? I would ask to borrow them, but I’ll need to drain all their power and they will be useless afterwards. So it must be a gift.’

  ‘Of course you may have them, Grimalkin,’ Thorne said, removing her necklace of thumb-bones and extracting the two largest ones.

  She handed them to me. Each had a small hole drilled through it, so it was but the work of a minute to thread them onto my own necklace.

  ‘You mean to fight her, don’t you?’ Thorne asked. ‘You needn’t do that,
Grimalkin. I’m not happy dwelling in the dark. At times the prospect of oblivion appears attractive. I’d be at peace, free of the terrors of this place; free of the terrible struggle to survive. I’ll willingly sacrifice myself so that you can return to Earth and slay our enemies.’

  ‘No sacrifice is required, child. Raise your spirits and ignite that flame of courage that once burned so brightly. Do you remember when I asked you to attack that bear?’

  Thorne nodded and smiled. We both recalled what had happened. When she was no more than ten, the girl had pestered me to train her as a witch assassin. In an effort to discourage her, I’d challenged her to attack a fierce bear with just a knife. I promised that if she succeeded, I’d train her. She had trembled with fear, her whole body shaking, and I waited for her to run away, hoping that she would never bother me again.

  But she had run in the opposite direction – straight at the bear. She was seconds from death when I threw my dagger into its eye to kill it.

  ‘I remember eating the bear’s heart,’ Thorne said. ‘It was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. The day we killed that bear and you took me on and began to train me was the happiest of my entire life. It still is.’

  ‘I killed the bear!’ I laughed. ‘You only stabbed it in the foot and angered it. Nonetheless, it was a brave thing to do. Deciding to train you was one of the best decisions I ever made. So hold onto that memory and gather your courage for what we must do now.’

  ‘And what is that, Grimalkin?’ Thorne asked.

  ‘We are going to do what should have been done long ago. We are going to slay Hecate.’

  I explained very carefully what I intended to do, and also the part that Thorne must play. Her eyes widened as I outlined my plan, and then they shone with excitement.

  This was the Thorne I remembered.

  We walked down the steps and out of the tree, and began to stroll along the black path towards the crossroads. Soon the tall, stern figure of Hecate came into view, standing beside her bubbling cauldron. The three ravens were still perched on the branches above her head.