The doctor had found no wounds on her body, including her throat . . . so could it be that what she was describing was really a nightmare she’d experienced alongside some sort of physical pain?
“It had happened before,” she continued. “I’d felt that weight on my chest and woken up sweating and weak. And when I got out of bed, I felt dizzy. But this was far worse. I could see its red eyes. The creature seemed to be in a frenzy—it kept on drinking my blood until my heart faltered and stopped.”
‘Think carefully, Miriam. I want you to remember all you can about the creature. How big was it?”
“No! No!” She covered her face with her hands. Her whole outline began to shake as she sobbed.
“Try, please, Miriam,” I persisted. “The information you give me might help to save other girls in the future.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not strong enough. I can’t bear to think about my death again. You said that you were going to help me. So please, please, help me now!”
I’d heard enough. It was time to give her peace from this torment.
“Listen carefully,” I told her, coming slowly to my feet and smiling at her. “I want you to think of the happiest moment you ever experienced.”
She fell silent, and a puzzled expression came onto her face.
“Think hard,” I said. “Was it when you were a child?” Quite often the happiest memories the dead retained were moments in their childhood; a time when they felt safe, protected by their parents; when life hadn’t yet had a chance to hurt them.
“No! No!” she cried out in some agitation. “My childhood was unhappy.” She gave a shudder but didn’t explain why this was so. Then, suddenly, the sides of her mouth curled up in a smile. “It was when I came here to work. I had a room all to myself, and on the very first morning I saw the sun rise, bathing the hills in its warm glow. The graveyard directly beneath the window had seemed creepy the previous night. But now I saw that it was a peaceful place, well tended, and flowers had been left by relatives who loved those they had lost. And beyond it was that wonderful view, with the valley rising up toward those hills in the distance. I felt lucky to be in such a nice place. I was really happy then.”
“Go back to that moment,” I told her. “Feel that happiness again. The sun is rising, bathing the hills in light. Can you see it?”
“Yes! Yes! It’s so bright!”
“Then walk toward it. Go to the light. You can do it. Just a few steps and you’ll be there!”
The ghost was smiling now. She took three paces toward the window and then faded away completely.
My task was over. She’d gone to the light, and that gave me great satisfaction. Often a spook fought the dark and found only fear and violence. It was satisfying to be able to help a lost soul like Miriam. This job had been far easier than most, but today that wasn’t the end of the problem.
The girl had mentioned something heavy sitting on her chest. I would have dismissed it . . . but for one thing. This was the third County girl who’d died in similar circumstances in the same number of months. And each ghost had given the same account of feeling a heavy weight on her chest. But Miriam was the first to have woken up and seen a creature feeding from her.
I was dealing with something very unusual. There was work to be done.
I returned to the house at Chipenden. I’d inherited it from my master, and it was mine to live in as long as I worked as a spook. That suited me fine. As far as I was concerned, this was a job for life.
The following day I got up soon after dawn, picked up my staff, and went out into the garden. There was a tree stump there that my master and I had routinely used for practicing our fighting skills.
Soon I was driving the blade of my staff into the wood again and again until I was breathing hard and dripping with sweat. I was out of condition, a long way off my former peak of fitness.
The staff, with its retractable silver-alloy blade crafted to fight witches, was a spook’s main weapon, and I needed to regain my former skill in using it as soon as possible.
I tried the move in which I flicked my staff from one hand to the other before driving it into the stump. I was clumsy, so I kept at it until I felt I’d improved.
Since my master had died, almost ten months ago now, I’d done my best to deal with the dark, but I hadn’t kept up my fighting skills. Gradually I’d done less and less. I hadn’t had the heart, because it reminded me too much of the days when John Gregory and I had trained together. But now I realized that this must become a daily routine again. I needed to be ready for any eventuality. The death of the third girl had brought home to me the fact that I needed to keep both my wits and my skills sharp and to continue to gather knowledge—there was still much I didn’t know.
Before going back to the house, I also practiced for ten minutes with my silver chain, the spook’s other main weapon, casting it again and again over the post in the garden. I was pleased to discover that my skill with this was undiminished. I didn’t miss once. It had always been one of my strengths—I could cast it over a witch even when she was running directly toward me.
Pleased with myself, I headed back for breakfast. I’d built up a good appetite.
I sat alone at the table with a big portion of ham and eggs steaming on the plate before me. At one time I would have wolfed it all down and helped myself to more. But my appetite was poor these days, and I only picked at my food.
During breakfast, my master and I used to discuss previous events or our plans for the coming day. I missed all that, but of course I wasn’t truly alone.
I could hear a faint purring.
It was the boggart, Kratch.
There were many different types of dark entities like this, and usually it was a spook’s job to deal with them. For example, there were ripper boggarts that drank the blood of animals and people; stone chuckers that threw stones. Both of these could kill, so a spook had to bind or slay them. Other boggarts just played tricks on folk and scared them; they were usually just moved on to a different location—usually a deserted spot far from human habitation. However, Kratch was a cat boggart, and although it was dangerous and could kill, my master had dealt with it in a different way.
This boggart cooked the breakfast and guarded the house and garden. In exchange, after issuing three warnings to any intruders, it was permitted to kill them and drink their blood. My master had made this pact with Kratch, and I had renewed it.