Part 17 (2/2)

Bound to the ring I was several feet short of the nearest candle, so I didn't know how he expected me to reach it. But even if it had been possible, I couldn't have done it. I couldn't save my own life at the expense of the thousands of people who would suffer in the County.

'No!' I said. 'I won't do it-'

'Although trapped within the bounds of this circle, I can still reach you. Let me show you ...'

Cold began to radiate out from the pentacle, the mosaic whitening with frost. A pattern of ice crystals was forming until I could feel the chill rising into my flesh from the floor, starting to numb me to the bone. I remembered Meg's warning when I left for home: '... wrap up warm against the cold. Frostbite can make your fingers fall off.'

The most severe cold was at my back, close to my hands where they were bound to the ring, and as the cold bit into my flesh, I imagined my frozen fingers with the blood no longer circulating, becoming blackened and brittle, ready to break off like dead twigs from a dying branch. I felt my mouth opening to scream, the cold air rasping within my throat. I thought of Mam. Now I would never see her again. But suddenly I fell away onto my side, away from the iron ring. I glanced back and saw that it was in pieces at the foot of the wall. Golgoth had frozen and fragmented it in order to free me. He'd done it so that I could do his bidding. He spoke to me again from the pentacle, but this time his voice seemed fainter.

'Dislodge the candle. Do it now or I'll take more than your life. I'll snuff out your soul too ...'

Those words sent a deeper chill into me than the cold that had shattered the iron ring. Morgan had been right. My very soul was at risk. But to save it, all I had to do was obey. My hands were still tied behind my back and had no feeling in them, but I could have stood, moved towards the nearest candle and kicked it over. But I thought of those who would suffer because of what I'd done. The severe winter cold itself would kill the old and the young first. Babies would die in their cots. But the threat would become even greater. Crops wouldn't grow and there'd be no harvest next year. And for how many years after that? There'd be nothing to feed the livestock. Famine would result. Thousands would perish. And it would all be my fault.

Kicking over the candle would save my own life. It would save my soul too. But my first duty was always to the County. I might never see Mam again, but if I freed Golgoth, how could I ever look her in the eye again? She would be ashamed of me and I couldn't stand that. Whatever it cost, I had to do what was right. Better oblivion. Better to be nothing than live to experience that!

'I won't do it,' I told Golgoth. 'I'd rather die here than set you free.'

'Die, then, fool!' Golgoth said, and immediately the cold began to intensify. So I closed my eyes and waited for the end, as I felt my body becoming numb. Strangely I was no longer afraid. I was filled with resignation. I'd accepted what was going to happen.

The cold must have made me pa.s.s out because the next thing I remember is opening my eyes.

It was very still and quiet in the chamber and the air was much warmer. To my relief, Golgoth had gone. I could no longer sense his presence. But why hadn't he carried out his threat?

The pentacle was intact and all five candles were still burning. Within it I could see a figure lying face down. By his cloak I recognized Morgan. I looked away quickly. The white had been replaced by red. The pieces of Morgan were beginning to thaw.

To my astonishment, I was still alive. But for how long? I was trapped. Soon the candles would burn low and go out and I'd be plunged into darkness for ever.

I wanted to live, and suddenly I began to struggle desperately against the rope. I was no longer tied to the iron ring but my hands were still bound behind my back. I had pins and needles in them but the circulation was returning. If I could only get them free, I could use the candles one at a time. That would give me hours of candlelight to work by. The pa.s.sageway was blocked but I could dig with my bare hands. It was worth a try. The earth would be soft. And the whole tunnel might not be blocked. At some point I might even find the spade!

For a few moments I was filled with hope. But the rope wouldn't yield and my attempts to struggle free seemed to be making it tighter. I remembered all those months ago, in spring, when I'd first become the Spook's apprentice. Bony Lizzie had bound me in a pit intending to kill me and take my bones for her dark magic. I'd struggled then but hadn't been able to escape. It was Alice who had saved me, using a knife to cut me free. How I wished I could call out to Alice now! But I couldn't. I was alone and n.o.body even knew where I was.

After a while I stopped my frantic struggle to be free. I lay back and closed my eyes and tried to gather my strength for one final effort. It was then, as I lay perfectly still, my breathing almost back to normal, I suddenly thought of the pentacle candles. I could use the flame from one of them to burn through the rope that bound me! Why hadn't I thought of that before? I sat up quickly. I now had a real chance of getting myself free. But it was at that moment that I heard a noise from the direction of the blocked tunnel.

What could it be? Had the Spook found out after all and come to rescue me? But it didn't sound like a spade. It was more like a scratching noise, as if something were scrabbling in the fallen soil. Could it be a rat? The noise was getting louder. Could it be more than one? A pack of rats that lived deep under the barrow? It was said that rats would eat anything. There were even tales of rats s.n.a.t.c.hing new-born babies from their cots. What if they'd smelled human flesh? Would they want to eat the pieces of Morgan's dead body? What next? Would they turn on me? Attack me while I was still alive?

The noise became louder. Something was burrowing along the blocked tunnel towards the chamber. Something was clawing its way through the earth. What could it be? I watched, fascinated but terrified, as a small hole appeared about halfway between the ceiling and the floor of the chamber and soil crumbled from it, falling onto the edge of the mosaic floor. I felt a draught that caused the candles to flicker. Two hands emerged but they weren't human. I saw elongated fingers and, instead of fingernails, ten curved talons that had burrowed through the soil into the chamber. So even before the head appeared, I knew exactly who it was.

Somehow the feral lamia had escaped from the Spook's cellar and had sniffed me out. Marcia Skelton had come for my blood.

Chapter 21.

The feral lamia eased her body out of the hole and scuttled down onto the mosaic floor. I heard her sniff twice but she wasn't looking at me. Scurrying on all fours with her head down and her long greasy black hair trailing on the floor, she moved towards the edge of the pentacle, her claws making a sharp scratching noise on the marble. She halted and I heard her sniff again loudly as she looked towards what was left of Morgan.

I kept very still, hardly able to believe that she hadn't attacked me already. Morgan had only just died but I'd have thought she'd prefer fresh blood from a living person. And then I heard another noise from the tunnel. Something else was approaching ...

Once more a pair of hands appeared but these had human fingers with fingernails rather than sharp claws. As the head came into view, one glance told me who it was. I saw the high cheekbones, the pretty bright eyes and the silver-grey hair. It was Meg.

She clambered out, dusted herself off and walked straight towards me. She must have left her pointy shoes outside but the pad of her bare feet as she approached was terrifying. No wonder the feral lamia had kept her distance. Meg wanted me all to herself, and after all that had happened, I could expect no mercy.

She knelt down within touching distance and her lips widened in a grim smile. 'You're just a heartbeat away from death,' Meg said, leaning closer and opening her mouth wide until I could see her white teeth, eager to bite me. I felt her breath on my face and neck and began to tremble. But then she bent low and, to my astonishment, bit right through the rope that was binding my hands.

'Few humans have been this close to a lamia witch and lived,' she said, before rising to her feet. 'Count yourself lucky!'

I just sat there, staring up at her open-mouthed. I felt too weak to move.

'Get up, boy!' she commanded. 'We haven't got all night. John Gregory's waiting for you. He'll want to know what's been going on down here.'

I clambered to my feet unsteadily and stood there for a few moments, feeling weak and nauseous, fearing that I was about to fall. Why should she help me? What had happened between the Spook and Meg? He'd been taking food down to her. They'd been having long talks. Was she doing it because the Spook had asked her to? Were they friends again?

'Go and get the grimoire,' Meg said, pointing towards the pentacle. T can't enter that circle and neither can Marcia ...'

I took a step towards the pentacle but stopped when I saw the book. It was lying in a pool of blood. I couldn't bear to touch it and it would be ruined anyway. Then I caught a glimpse of Morgan's remains and my stomach heaved. I bowed my head, trying to blot the image out of my mind. I didn't want to see him again in a nightmare.

'Do as I say, get the grimoire!' Meg commanded, raising her voice slightly. 'John Gregory won't thank you for leaving it here for someone else to find one day'

I did as I was told and stepped into the pentacle. I reached down and picked up the book. It was wet and sticky with blood. I could smell it and my stomach twisted and heaved again. I fought hard not to vomit and left the pentacle, picking up the nearest of the candles. I didn't like the idea of climbing back through a dark tunnel in the company of two lamia witches.

Taking the candle had probably broken the power of the pentacle and I thought that Marcia would have entered it to feed. But after briefly sniffing towards the body she turned away. Meg led the way with Marcia somewhere behind me. I just hoped she wasn't too close on my heels.

We emerged into the pale pre-dawn light. The blizzard had blown itself out but it was still snowing lightly. The Spook was waiting just outside the entrance and he reached down, offering me his hand. I let the black candle fall into the snow and gripped his left hand with mine; he pulled me up onto my feet. Immediately afterwards the feral lamia followed me out, scrambling up onto the snow.

I opened my mouth to speak but my master put a finger against his lips to signal silence. 'All in good time. You can tell me later,' he said. 'Is Morgan dead?'

I nodded and bowed my head.

'Well, this can be his tomb,' said the Spook.

With those words he moved across and gripped the edge of the stone, manoeuvring it into position. He balanced it on the edge of the hole, and when he was satisfied, let it drop back into place. That done, he went down onto his knees and, using his bare hands, began to cover the stone with loose earth and snow. At last, satisfied, he came to his feet.

'Give me the book, lad,' the Spook commanded.

I held it out to him, glad to be rid of it. The Spook lifted it up and glanced at the cover. When he transferred it to his other hand, bloodstains remained on his fingers. With a sad, weary shake of his head he led the way down off the heights of the moor and back towards his winter house. And each time I glanced back over my shoulder I could see that the two lamia witches were following close behind.

Once back, the Spook led me into the kitchen, fed the fire with coal and, as the flames took a hold, started to cook breakfast. At one point I offered to help but he waved me back into my chair.

'Gather your strength, lad,' he told me. 'You've been through a lot.'

Once I could smell the eggs cooking and the bread toasting I felt a lot better. Meg and her sister had gone down into the cellar but I didn't like to mention them. It was best to let the Spook tell me what had happened in his own time. Soon we were both at the table tucking into big plates of eggs and toast. At last, feeling a lot better, I mopped my plate and sat back in my chair.

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