‘What? You mean she isn’t able to join us?’
‘She’s coming, all right, but it could be some time before she manages it. Enemy soldiers swept through Pendle and tried to clear out the witch clans. At first it went their way, and they burned some houses and killed a few witches. But once it was dark, the clans conjured up a thick fog and, after scaring the men, drove them into Witch Dell, where many met their deaths. The witches feasted well that night. Though that didn’t satisfy the Malkins, because they sent Grimalkin after the commander, who had taken refuge in Caster Castle.
‘Grimalkin scaled the walls at midnight and killed him in his bed. She took his thumb-bones and wrote a curse on the bedroom wall in his blood.’
I shivered at that. The witch assassin was ruthless and could be cruel when the situation demanded it. Nobody would want to be on the wrong side of her.
‘After that there was a price on her head, and every enemy soldier north of Priestown is hunting her down,’ Alice continued. ‘She’s hoping to reach Scotland and get a boat from there to bring her to Ireland.’
‘I still don’t know why you didn’t tell me this earlier.’
‘Sorry, Tom, but I really did think it was best to keep the bad news from you for a while.’
‘But it’s not that bad, Alice. Grimalkin escaped and, although delayed, is still on her way.’
Alice lowered her eyes and looked down at her pointy shoes. ‘There’s more, Tom … I can’t hide anything from you for long, can I? You see, Grimalkin’s worried about you. She wants to destroy the Fiend, she does, but believes that she can only do it with your help. She believes what your mam said – that you will find a way to finish him. But now she’s been warned by a scryer that you’re in danger – that you risk death at the hands of a dead witch …’
‘What – you mean—?’
‘Yes – the Celtic witch you mentioned – the one Old Arkwright killed. Grimalkin said she’s back from the dead and she’s hunting you down.’
Images from my nightmare came vividly into my mind. Were they a warning? Perhaps that’s why I kept having the same dream over and over again. But how could that witch be after me? I wondered.
‘It’s not possible, Alice. She can’t come back. Bill Arkwright fed her heart to his dogs!’
‘Are you sure? Grimalkin seemed certain that she was right,’ Alice said.
‘I was there when he did it, Alice. I saw him throw it to Claw and her pups.’
If you hanged a witch, she could come back from the dead, but there were two ways to make sure that she couldn’t return. One was to burn her; the other was to cut out her heart and eat it. This was why Bill Arkwright always fed the hearts of water witches to his dogs. He’d done the same with the Celtic witch: it was a tried and tested spook’s method – it always worked. That witch was dead beyond any hope of return.
‘Do you remember me telling you about my dream, Alice – the one about the Morrigan?’ I asked her.
She nodded.
‘Well, I’ve been having that same nightmare every night. A large black crow is flying after me. I’m in a forest, running towards a chapel. It’s my only chance of refuge and I have to get inside before midnight – otherwise it’ll be the end of me. But then the crow shifts its shape. It’s standing nearby, with the body of a woman but the head of a crow …’
‘Ain’t no doubt about it – that’s the Morrigan for sure,’ said Alice.
‘But then the crow’s head slowly changes into a human one. And I’ve seen that face before. It’s the witch that Bill Arkwright killed. But why should the Morrigan take on the dead witch’s face?’
‘Maybe she wants vengeance for what you and Bill Arkwright did,’ suggested Alice. ‘Using her dead servant’s face is a way of warning you what’s going to happen. Don’t like to say this, Tom, but it could be more than just an ordinary nightmare.’
I nodded. Scary as it was, that seemed likely. It could be a direct warning from the Morrigan, one of the most vengeful and bloodthirsty of the Old Gods.
My sense of foreboding was growing. Not only did we face the approaching goat-mage rituals, but now the threat from the Morrigan seemed imminent too. It was a relief to know that Grimalkin would soon be joining us – though that would bring another challenge: the attempt to bind the Fiend. We might soon have three powerful entities from the dark to contend with all at once.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the blood jar, holding it up to the light and examining it carefully. Was the crack a little bigger? It certainly seemed to be. I handed it to Alice.
‘Is the damage worse?’ I asked her nervously.
Alice studied the jar for a long time, turning it over and over in her hands. Then she handed it back to me. ‘The crack could be lengthening a bit,’ she admitted, ‘but it’s not leaking any more blood. Don’t worry, Tom. When Grimalkin arrives, we can bind the Fiend and we won’t need that jar any more.’
We walked slowly back to the house, the dogs following at our heels. By now clouds had blown in from the west to obscure the sun. It looked like the period of good settled weather was over. I could smell rain.
WHEN WE RETURNED to Farrell Shey’s house, the Spook was pacing back and forth outside the gate. He had a worried look on his face.
‘Where have you been?’ he demanded. ‘I expected you back an hour ago. Weren’t you warned not to go too far from the house? I thought something had happened to you.’
‘But we haven’t been very far away,’ I protested. ‘We’ve just been talking, that’s all. Alice has made contact with Grimalkin. She is on her way here at last. It could take her a while, but she’s coming. So that’s good news, isn’t it?’
Of course, I didn’t tell the Spook everything. He’d find it hard enough to work with the witch assassin without knowing the details of what she’d done to the enemy commander.
‘Aye, lad, it certainly is.’ He looked a little more cheerful now. ‘But while you’ve been away, things have been decided. As a matter of fact, they were being decided at the breakfast table, but you seemed to have other matters on your mind. In a couple of years you’ll have finished your training and you’ll be a spook yourself. It’s time to think and behave like a spook. You should have been concentrating, not away with the fairies.’