As the abhuman led us across the darkness of the cavern, our lanterns flared back to their full brilliance. He guided us to a freshly dug tunnel before retreating back into the gloom. It went up at a steep angle, and it was indeed clear; within minutes we had emerged among the trees. It was still dark, but the sky was growing lighter on the eastern horizon and we could see Greeba Keep in the distance, lanterns gleaming on its battlements; the guard would be on full alert.
‘That tower’s too close for comfort,’ said the Spook. ‘The more distance we can put between it and us, the happier I’ll be.’
‘Nowhere’s safe now,’ Adriana said. ‘I’m heading home to Peel – I need to see to my mother. The shock of Father’s death may have been too much for her. You’re welcome to join me.’
‘We’re strangers to this island, so we’ll be glad to accept your invitation,’ said the Spook, ‘but first we’d better retrieve our bags.’
They were still where we’d left them. I took the shaman’s notebook from Alice and put it in my bag, which I then picked up, along with my master’s, and we set off west, this time with Adriana leading the way. After a while Alice moved up to walk alongside her and they began to chat.
It was a miserable misty morning, with cold drizzle drifting into our faces out of a grey sky. Our progress was slow because we avoided the main lanes and tracks and cut through woods and along dripping hedgerows. I was soon ready for something to eat and a bit of warmth and shelter.
‘Where is Romania?’ I asked, picking up my pace to walk with the Spook.
‘It’s a forested land to the north-west of your mam’s homeland, Greece, lad. Why? Are you thinking about those seven witches?’
I nodded. ‘They came a long way to visit the cavern,’ I said.
‘True, lad, but they didn’t come in person or we’d really have been in trouble. What we saw was their spirits projected from their bodies by the power of animism, drawn there by that cache. They were co-operating with that abhuman, so they didn’t pose a threat. But we have a big task on our hands. Even if we deal with Lizzie and the buggane, leaving all that stored power there is dangerous. Some other denizen of the dark might find and use it for their own ends.’
‘So why hasn’t it happened before?’
‘Maybe it has, lad, but it takes a lot of skill to control such a cache. Even Lucius Grim didn’t properly understand its power – and that ultimately led to his own destruction. Luckily Lord Barrule was too distracted by his gambling to fully benefit from that resource. However, in time someone with great dark strength is bound to make use of it. There are other bugganes on this island who might add to it; like boggarts, they can use ley lines to travel from place to place. Aye, we have to be wary of that. A big task awaits us.’
We arrived at Peel Mill early in the afternoon. As we emerged from the woods, we saw ahead of us the huge wheel, slowly turning under the force of the water streaming across a long multi-arched aqueduct. But we soon discovered that no flour was being ground. On hearing of Patrick Lonan’s death, as a mark of respect the mill workers had gone home.
The miller’s large house flanked the wheel: we were made very welcome there. After first attending to her mother, Adriana ordered the servants to prepare baths, hot meals and beds for us all. Her poor father might be dead, but she insisted on business as usual, sending word to the workers to report for duty the following morning.
The abhuman had urged us to attack Lizzie quickly, but we stayed at the mill for two days, resting and gathering our strength, wondering how best to proceed. The Spook was very quiet, and it seemed to me that he had very little hope to offer us.
How could we win now? Lizzie was in control of Greeba Keep and I saw no reason why the whole island should not soon be hers. And if she learned of the full power at her disposal … well, that didn’t bear thinking about.
However, we knew we couldn’t stay at the mill for long. It would be an obvious place to search: before long the bone witch would send her yeomen after us.
On the morning of our third day there, I awoke at dawn and went for a walk with Alice. It was a bright, cold morning with a light ground frost. Alice seemed very quiet and I sensed that she was troubled.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked her. ‘I can tell something’s bothering you. Is it Lizzie?’
‘Lizzie’s bothering all of us.’
I said nothing for a while and we walked in silence. But then I decided to question her further. ‘Lizzie’s your mother, Alice – and everyone wants her dead. That must upset you … Tell me – don’t just keep it to yourself.’
‘Hate her, I do. She’s no mother of mine. A murderer, that’s what Lizzie is. She kills children and takes their bones. I’ll be glad when she’s dead.’
‘That night I fought her, when you were in the cage, I had her at my mercy. But I couldn’t kill her. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t bring myself to do it in cold blood; it was also because she was your mother. It just didn’t seem right, Alice.’
‘You listen to me, Tom. Listen well to what I say. Next time you get the chance, kill her. Don’t hesitate. If you’d killed her that night you’d have saved everyone a lot of trouble!’
But no sooner had she said that than Alice started to sob uncontrollably. I put my arms around her and she buried her face in my shoulder. She cried for a long time, but when she was quiet, I squeezed her hand and led her back towards the house.
As we emerged from the trees, I saw Adriana throwing crumbs to a small flock of birds near the front door. When she spotted us, she clapped her hands, and the birds immediately took flight, most of them landing on the roof. She came across the frosted grass to meet us.
Her face was grave: her mother was still suffering from the effects of her encounter with Bony Lizzie and there was still no news of the whereabouts of Simon Sulby; both he and Captain Baines seemed to have disappeared without trace.
‘How’s your mother today?’ I asked.
‘She seems a little stronger,’ Adriana replied. ‘After a little persuasion she managed to sip a few mouthfuls of broth this morning. But she’s still confused and doesn’t seem to know she’s back home. Mercifully, she’s forgotten what happened to my father. I dread having to break the news to her …