She started singing to it in a low voice – a lullaby that might have been used to soothe a human child. Then she righted the cradle and placed the creature inside, carefully adjusting the blanket to keep it warm.
Scarabek came back and stared down at me, and I saw that her face had changed. Previously, she must have used some enchantment to disguise herself. The truth was now revealed and I recognized her instantly. There was no doubt: she was the Celtic witch from my dreams. These were the eyes – one green, the other blue – that I had seen in the cloud as we’d approached Ireland and when we faced the jibber in Dublin, and I shuddered at the malevolence glaring from them.
But how was it possible? How could she have returned from the dead when the dogs had eaten her heart?
‘Tom Ward! How easily you fell into my hands! Ever since you approached our shore I have been watching and waiting!’ she cried. ‘It took the simplest of spells to lure you into my cottage. And how well you obeyed me, leaving your precious staff at the threshold. Now you are totally in my power. My life will end soon, my spirit given up in sacrifice to Pan. You will die too, but only after suffering terribly for what you did to my sister.’
Sisters … Were they twins? They looked so alike. I wanted to ask her, but I was almost too weak to draw breath. How much blood had the little creature taken? I wondered. I fought to remain conscious, but my head began to spin and I fell into darkness. The witch had promised to make me suffer, but I already felt close to death – although there was no fear; just a terrible weariness.
How long I was unconscious I don’t know, but when I came to, I heard voices: a man and a woman talking together quietly. I tried to make sense of what they were saying – something about barrows and travelling north. At last I managed to find the strength to open my eyes. The two of them were standing over me – Scarabek, the witch, and the man called Thin Shaun.
But was he really a man or something else? His hood was pulled back, revealing an emaciated head that could almost have been that of a corpse. The skull was clearly visible, the skin thin and parchment dry, his hairless head covered in patches of dry, flaking skin.
‘He conceals a deadly weapon in the left pocket of his cloak,’ said Scarabek. ‘Take it from him, Shaun. I cannot bear to touch it.’
Thin Shaun reached into my pocket. I had no strength to resist, and he drew out my silver chain. As he did so, I saw the pain upon his face: with a shudder, he dropped it on the ground, out of my reach.
‘He used that to bind my sister before she was slain. But he won’t ever need to use it again. His life as an apprentice spook is over. We’ll take him north now, Shaun,’ said the witch. ‘I’m going to hurt him badly and let him feel something of the suffering I experienced.’
I was dismayed at the loss of my silver chain, but at least he hadn’t discovered the blood jar in my pocket.
Thin Shaun came across, picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, just as my master would carry a bound witch before putting her into a pit. He held me by the legs so that my head was hanging down towards his heels. I lacked the strength to resist, and was aware of a strange musty smell emanating from him, an odour of dank underground places. But what really unnerved me was the extreme coldness of his body; even though I could feel and hear him breathing, it was as if I was being carried by a dead man.
Curiously, though my body was weak, my mind became strangely alert. I tried to practise what the Spook had taught me and take careful note of my situation.
We left the cottage and headed north, Scarabek taking the lead and carrying the creature in the woollen shawl close to her bosom as if it were a human baby. Perhaps it was her familiar. A witch usually gave a familiar her own blood, but this was often augmented by blood from her victims. The most common familiars were cats, rats, birds and toads, but sometimes witches used something more exotic. I had no name for the thing she was carrying; it certainly wasn’t mentioned in the Spook’s Bestiary. But I was dealing with a witch from a foreign land, and her powers and habits were largely unknown to me.
To the east the sky was already becoming lighter. I must have slept for at least a day and a night. The fog was lifting and I could see the bulk of two mountains rising up ahead and to the right. And then I caught sight of something else – the unmistakable shape of a burial mound – and we were moving directly towards it. It was small, hardly more than twice the height of a man, and covered in grass. When we were less than five yards away, there was an intense flash of yellow light. As it dimmed, I saw the silhouette of the witch against a round doorway.
Moments later, the breeze died down and the air immediately became significantly warmer; we were surrounded by darkness, right inside the barrow. There was sudden flare of light and I saw that the witch was holding a black candle, which she’d just ignited by magic. Within the mound stood a table, four chairs and a bed, to which she pointed.
‘Put him there for now,’ she instructed, and Thin Shaun dumped me on it without ceremony. ‘It’s time to feed him again …’
I lay there for several minutes, struggling to move. I was still suffering from that strange paralysis. The witch had gone into another room within the barrow, but Shaun stood there silently, his unblinking eyes staring down at me. I was starting to feel a little stronger, and my heart and breathing were gradually returning to normal. But I guessed that Scarabek was now going to feed me more of the gruel laced with poison. If only I could manage to regain the full use of my limbs.
She returned within minutes, carrying a small bowl. ‘Lift his head, Shaun,’ she commanded.
With his right hand, Thin Shaun gripped my shoulder, lifting the top part of my body almost upright. This time the witch had a small wooden spoon, and as she brought it towards me, she held my forehead firmly while, with his left hand, Shaun tugged my jaw downwards, forcing my mouth wide open.
The witch kept stuffing the spicy gruel into my mouth until I was forced to either swallow or choke. As the concoction went down my gullet, she smiled.
‘That’s enough for now – let him go,’ she said. ‘Too much will kill him, and I have other plans for him first.’
Thin Shaun lowered me back onto the bed and stood beside Scarabek. They stared down at me while my mouth grew dry and the room started to spin.
‘Let’s go out and get the girl,’ I heard the witch say. ‘He’ll be safe enough here.’