The Spook's Mistake by Joseph Delaney
But there was something different about her: where previously her hair had been golden, now it was dark. How could her hair have changed colour like that? My mind was still befuddled or I would have worked out much sooner exactly what was happening. It was only when she left the horse, turned and walked towards me, her feet bare, that I began to understand.
She was cupping her hands, holding them before her strangely as she walked. Why was she doing that? And she was walking very slowly and carefully. As she drew nearer, I noticed the blood on her lips. She'd been feeding from the horse, drinking the poor animal's blood. That's what she'd been doing when I'd first glimpsed her. That's why she'd halted the barge as we journeyed south.
It was Morwena! She must have been wearing a wig. Either that or some dark enchantment had made me see her hair as golden. No wonder she'd kept her back to us. Now I could see that fleshless nose and hideous face. Her left eye was closed.
A shadow fell upon me and I flinched back against the post. I sensed the Fiend close at my back. He didn't move into my field of vision but his voice was an icy chill squeezing my heart so that it began to beat erratically and I could hardly breathe.
'I have to leave you now, Tom. You are not my only concern. I have other important business to undertake. But my daughter Morwena will take care of you. You are in her hands now.'
With those words he was gone. Why hadn't he stayed? What could be so important as to call him away just when I was so completely vulnerable? He must have great faith in Morwena's power. As his footsteps faded away, the Devil's daughter came towards me, her expression cruel.
I heard the flapping of huge wings and an ugly bird swooped down to alight on her left shoulder. She raised her cupped hands and it dipped its beak into them again and again, drinking its fill of what she held there – the blood of the dying horse. Having quenched its thirst, the corpsefowl gave a shrill cry, flapped its wings and fluttered upwards, to be lost from sight.
Morwena then knelt on the wooden quay, her hands red with blood, so close that she could have reached out and touched me. I tried to keep my breath steady but my heart was hammering in my chest. She stared at me with her reptilian right eye as her tongue flicked out and licked the blood from her lips. Only when they were clean did she speak.
'You sit so still and quiet. But bravery has no place here. No place at all. You are here to die and won't escape your fate a second time!'
Now she revealed those terrible yellow-green canine teeth and her foul breath washed over me so that it was hard not to retch. Her voice was harsh and sibilant, beginning each sentence with the hiss and splutter of liquid being poured over hot coals; ending with the gurgle of a swamp swallowing its victims, sucking them down into its sodden maw. She moved her head a little closer to mine, and rather than looking me in the eye was staring at my neck.
For a moment I thought she was about to sink her teeth in before ripping out my throat. I actually flinched, and at that involuntary movement she smiled and raised her right eye to meet mine.
'I've already drunk my fill, so live a little longer. Breathe for a while and watch what's about to unfold.'
I was starting to tremble and struggled to control the fear that is always a spook's worst enemy when facing the dark. Morwena seemed to want to talk. If that was the case, I could get information that might prove useful. Things looked bleak but I'd been in difficult spots before when my chances of survival appeared slim. As my dad used to say, 'While there's life, there's hope,' and it was something I believed in myself.
'What are you going to do?' I asked.
'Destroy my father's enemies: you and John Gregory will die tonight.'
'My master? Is he here?' I asked. I wondered if he was a prisoner in the other hold.
She shook her head. 'He's on his way even as we speak. My father sent him a letter to lure him to this place – just as he forged the letter he placed in your hands. John Gregory believes it's a plea for help from you and now hastens here to his fate.'
'Where's Alice?'
'In the hold where she's safe,' Morwena hissed, that jutting ridge of bone that served as her nose now mere inches away from my face. 'But I want you in view.
You're the bait that will draw your master to his death.'
That final word was like the ugly croak of a swamp frog echoing over a stagnant bog. She quickly pulled a mottled handkerchief from her sleeve and gagged my mouth. That done, she looked up suddenly and sniffed twice.
'He's almost here!' she said, nodding towards the two men, who retreated into the shadows to lie in wait. I assumed she'd join them, but to my surprise and dismay she approached the edge of the canal, lowered herself into the water and disappeared from sight.
The Spook was tough and skilled with his staff. Unless he was taken completely by surprise I estimated him to be more than a match for the two armed men. But if the witch attacked from the water while he fought them, that was another matter. My master was in grave danger.
CHAPTER 20
No choice at all
I sat there, helpless, knowing that any moment now my master would arrive; if Morwena had her way, he'd be the first of us to die. But things still weren't hopeless because, for some strange reason of his own, the Fiend had now left us. My master would not be so easy to kill. He had a fighting chance at least. But how could I help him?
I struggled to free myself from the thick rope that bound me to the post. It was very tight, and no matter how hard I twisted and turned it barely yielded. I heard a faint noise in the distance. Was it one of the waiting men? Or was it the Spook?
The next moment there was no doubt. The Spook was walking down the quay towards me, carrying his staff and bag, his footsteps echoing. I suppose we noticed each other at exactly the same moment because no sooner had I set eyes on him than he came to a halt. He stared at me for a long time before continuing more slowly. I knew he would have worked out that it was a trap. Why else would I be tied up like that in full view? So he could either retreat and make his escape or come forward and hope that he could deal with whatever had been prepared. I knew he wouldn't leave me – so it was no choice at all.
After another twenty paces he halted again, directly under one of the huge posts that supported the roof of the warehouse. He was staring at the two dead horses. The lantern was shining full in his face, and by its light I could see that although he looked old and a little gaunt, his eyes still glittered fiercely and his senses were clearly sharp and alert, testing the dark recesses of the warehouse for danger.
He continued towards me again. I could have nodded towards the water to warn him about the threat from Morwena. But to do so might distract him from the other threat from the darkness on his right.
Suddenly, less than twenty paces from me, he halted again and this time he put down his bag and lifted his staff defensively, holding it with both hands at an angle of forty-five degrees. I heard the distinctive click as he released the retractable blade and then everything happened very quickly.
The two thugs burst out of the darkness from my left, their long knives glinting in the lantern-light. Turning his back on the water, the Spook whirled to meet them. For a second his opponents seemed to hesitate. Perhaps they saw the wicked-looking blade at the end of his staff. Either that or the determination in his eyes. But then, as they rushed on, knives aloft, ready to cut him down, he struck. Using the thick base of his staff, he landed a terrible blow on one man's temple. He fell soundlessly, the knife flying from his fingers, even as the Spook thrust the point of his blade towards his second assailant. As the blade pierced the man's right shoulder, he also dropped his knife, then fell to his knees and uttered a thin, high cry of pain.
The Spook angled his staff towards his fallen enemy, and for a moment he seemed about to stab downwards, but then he shook his head and said something to him in a low voice. The man staggered to his feet and stumbled away into the darkness, clutching his shoulder. Only then did the Spook glance back in my direction and I wa
I wasn't a second too soon. Morwena surged up with the strength of a salmon leaping up a waterfall, her arms outstretched to tear at the Spook's face, though her left eye was still closed.
My master met her with equal speed. He spun, bringing his staff in a rapid arc from left to right. It missed Morwena's throat by a hair's breadth, and with a terrible shriek of anger she flopped back into the water less than gracefully, creating a huge splash.
The Spook froze, looking down into the water. Then, with his right hand, he reached up and tugged his hood up, forward and down so that it shielded his eyes. He must have seen the pinned eye and realized who he was dealing with. Without eye-contact Morwena would not be able to use her bloodeye against him. Nonetheless he would be fighting 'blind'.
He waited, immobile, and I watched anxiously as the last ripple erased itself from the surface of the canal, which became as still as glass. Suddenly Morwena surged from the water again, this second attack even more sudden than the first, and then landed on the very edge of the wharf, her webbed feet slapping down hard against the wooden boards. Her bloodeye was now open, its baleful red fire directed at the Spook. But without looking up, he stabbed towards her legs and she was forced to retreat.
Immediately she struck at him with her left hand, the claws raking towards his shoulder, but he stepped away just in time. Then, as she moved the other way, he flicked his staff from his left to his right hand and jabbed towards her hard and fast. It was the same manoeuvre he'd made me practise against the dead tree in his garden – the one that had saved my life in the summer when I'd used it successfully against Grimalkin.
He executed it perfectly and the tip of his blade speared Morwena in the side. She let out a cry of anguish but leaped away quickly, somersaulting back into the water. The Spook waited a long time but she didn't attack again.
Only then did he come swiftly to my side, lean forward and tug the scarf downwards to free my mouth.
'Alice is tied up in the hold!' I gasped. 'Mr Gilbert is dead. And that was Morwena who attacked you from the water! The Fiend's own daughter! And there could be other water witches on their way!'
'Calm yourself, lad,' the Spook said. 'I'll have you free in a moment . . .'
That said, he used the staff's blade to cut through my bonds. As I came slowly to my feet, rubbing my wrists to restore the circulation, my master pointed at the knife of one of his assailants, which was lying on the quayside.
'Free her while I stand guard,' he said.
We stepped onto the barge and, staff at the ready, the Spook stood resolutely beside me while I slid back the hatch. Alice stared up at me from below. She was bound and gagged and they'd left her by the dead body of the bargeman.
'The Fiend was here. He's taken Mr Gilbert's shape,' I told my master.
'Well, there's nothing we can do for the poor man now,' said the Spook, shaking his head sadly. 'We'll have to leave him for others to find and bury. But cut the girl free. We need to be away from here as quickly as possible. The witch isn't badly hurt. No doubt she'll be getting ready to try again.'
I could feel Alice trembling as I cut her bonds and helped her from the hold. She didn't say a word and her eyes were wide with fear. It seemed that the proximity of the Fiend had terrified her even more than it had me.
Once the three of us were standing on the quay, the Spook pointed north, then led us out of the warehouse, walking so fast that I struggled to keep up.
'Aren't we heading back to Chipenden?' I asked.
'No, we're not, lad. Not enough time to get there if Morwena gives chase. We're off to poor Bill Arkwright's house first. It's the nearest refuge. But the sooner we get away from this canal bank, the better,' he said, eyeing the water warily.
'I know a quicker route to the mill,' volunteered Alice. 'I used to live near there with Bony Lizzie. We need to cross the canal and then keep well to the west.'
'Then lead on, girl,' said the Spook.
So we crossed the first bridge, left the towpath and headed north through the darkness of the narrow cobbled streets. Caster, with its castle and dungeons, was no place for those who followed our trade; fortunately there were few people about to see our passing. At last, with a sense of relief, we left the city behind us and followed Alice across the countryside, using only the light of the stars and the pale halfmoon. Eventually, skirting the edge of Monastery Marsh, we reached the mill garden and crossed the salt moat.
'How long since salt was last added?' asked the Spook. They were the first words that anybody had spoken since we left the canal back in Caster.
'I did it only yesterday,' I told him.
As we entered the willow garden, there came a warning growl and Claw bounded up. I reached down and patted her head and she followed at my heels.
'This dog saved my life,' I said. Neither the Spook nor Alice commented, and as we reached the door, Claw went her own way down the side of the house towards the waterwheel. It was better to have her outside anyway. That way she would give warning if a witch approached the garden.
Soon we were in the mill kitchen and, wasting no time, I filled the stove with wood and got it alight. The Spook and Alice sat and watched me work. My master was deep in thought. Alice still looked terrified.
'Shall I make us some early breakfast?' I asked.
My master shook his head firmly. 'Better not, lad. We could be facing the dark at any time and need to fast.
But no doubt the girl would like something.'
Alice shook her head even more vigorously than the Spook. 'I'm not hungry,' she said flatly.
'Well, in that case, we need to try to make some sense of what's been going on. I smelled a rat from the very first,' asserted the Spook. 'As soon as I got back to Chipenden, I read Alice's note as well as your previous letter. But I was just about to set off for the mill when the bell rang at the crossroads. It was the village smith - someone had pushed a letter under his door with my name on it. It was marked urgent. It was in your handwriting, lad, but even more of a shaky scrawl than usual, as if you'd written it in a hurry. It said that you were in serious trouble and needed help. From what, it didn't specify; it simply gave the address of that warehouse in Caster.
'Well, I knew you couldn't be in two places at once, but as Caster is on the way to the mill, I went there first. I was prepared for trouble and certainly found it. But there's one thing still bothering me. How did the girl know you were in danger? How did you get word to her?'
The Spook stared at me hard and I knew I couldn't avoid telling him the truth. So I took a deep breath. 'I used a mirror,' I said, bowing my head, unable to meet his gaze.
'What did you say, lad?' the Spook said, his voice dangerously low. 'Did I just hear you right? A mirror? A mirror . . . ?'
'It was the only way I could contact you!' I blurted out. 'I was desperate. Mr Arkwright was dead, murdered by Morwena, and I knew she'd be coming for me next. I needed you. I couldn't face her alone—'
My master cut me short. 'I knew I should never have let a Deane stay with us!' he said angrily, glaring at Alice. 'She's led you into bad ways. Using a tool of the dark like that makes you vulnerable. As soon as you used that mirror the Fiend would have known where you were; anything you communicated would instantly have been known to him.'
'I didn't know that,' I said lamely.
'No? Well, you certainly know it now. And as for you, girl,' he went on, standing up and staring hard at Alice, 'you're unusually quiet. Nothing to say for yourself?'
In response Alice covered her face with her hands and began to sob.
'Being close to the Fiend scared her badly,' I said. 'I've never seen her so shaken.'
'Well, lad, you know what her problem is, don't you?'