Chapter 1
THE MAENAD ASSASSIN
I awoke suddenly with an urgent sense that something was wrong. Lightning flickered against the window, followed almost immediately by a tremendous crash of thunder. I'd slept through County storms before, so it wasn't that which had woken me. No, I had a feeling that some kind of danger threatened. I jumped out of bed, and suddenly the mirror on my nightstand grew brighter. I had a glimpse of someone reflected in it and then it quickly vanished. But not before I'd recognized the face. It was Alice.
Even though she'd trained for two years as a witch, Alice was my friend. She'd been banished by the Spook and had returned to Pendle. I was missing her but I'd kept my promise to my master and ignored all the attempts she'd been making to contact me. But I couldn't ignore her this time. She'd written a message for me in the mirror and I couldn't help but read it before it faded away.
What was a maenad assassin? I'd never heard of such a thing. And how could an assassin of any kind reach me when it had to cross the Spook's garden – a garden guarded by his powerful boggart? If anyone breached the boundary, that boggart would let out a roar that could be heard for miles, and would then tear the intruder to pieces.
And how could Alice know about the danger anyway? She was miles away in Pendle. Still, I wasn't about to ignore her warning. My master, John Gregory, had gone off to deal with a troublesome ghost and I was alone in the house. I had nothing with me that I could use in self-defence. My staff and bag were down in the kitchen, so I had to get them.
Don't panic, I told myself. Take your time and stay calm.
I dressed quickly and pulled on my boots. As thunder boomed overhead once more, I eased open my bedroom door and stepped cautiously out onto the dark landing. There I paused and listened. All was silent. I felt sure that nobody had entered the house yet, so I began to tiptoe down the stairs as quietly as I could. I crept through the hallway and into the kitchen.
I put my silver chain in my breeches pocket and, taking up my staff, opened the back door and stepped out. Where was the boggart? Why wasn't it defending the house and garden against the intruder? Rain was driving into my face as I waited, carefully searching the lawn and trees beyond for any sign of movement.
I allowed my eyes to adjust to the dark but I could see very little. Even so, I headed for the trees in the western garden.
I'd taken no more than a dozen paces when there was a bloodcurdling yell from my left and I heard the pounding of feet. Someone was running across the lawn, directly towards me. I readied my staff, pressing the recess so that, with a click, the retractable blade sprang from the end.
Lightning flashed again and I saw what threatened. It was a tall thin woman brandishing a long, murderous blade in her left hand. Her hair was tied back, her gaunt face twisted in hatred and painted with some dark pigment. She wore a long dress, which was soaked with rain, and rather than shoes, her feet were bound with strips of leather. So this was a maenad, I thought to myself.
I took up a defensive position, holding my staff diagonally the way I'd been taught. My heart was beating fast but I had to stay calm and take the first opportunity to strike.
Her blade suddenly arced downwards, missing my right shoulder by inches, and I whirled away, trying to keep some distance between myself and my opponent.
I needed room in order to swing my staff. The grass was saturated with rain, and as the maenad came at me again, I slipped and lost my balance. I almost toppled over backwards but managed to drop down onto one knee. Just in time I brought my staff up to block a thrust that would have penetrated deep into my shoulder. I struck again, hitting the maenad's wrist hard, and the knife went spinning to the ground. Lightning flashed overhead and I saw the fury in her face as, weaponless, she attacked again. She was shouting at me now, mad with rage – the harsh guttural sounds contained the odd word that I recognized as Greek. This time I stepped to one side, avoided her outstretched hands with their long sharp nails and gave her a tremendous thwack to the side of her head. She went down on her knees and I could have easily driven the point of my blade through her chest.
Instead, I transferred my staff to my right hand, reached into my pocket and coiled the silver chain around my left wrist. A silver chain is useful against any servant of the dark – but would it bind a maenad assassin? I asked myself.
I concentrated hard, and the moment she came to her feet she was illuminated by a particularly vivid flash of lightning. Couldn't have been better! I had a perfect view of my target and released the chain with a crack! It soared upwards to form a perfect spiral, then dropped around her body, bringing her down on the grass.
I circled her warily. The chain bound her arms and legs and had tightened around her jaw, but she was still able to speak and hurled a torrent of words at me, not one of which I understood. Was it Greek? I thought so – but it was some strange dialect.
It seemed the chain had worked though, so wasting no time, I seized her by her left foot and began to drag her across the wet grass towards the house. The Spook would want to question her – if he could understand what she was saying. My Greek was at least as good as his and she made little sense to me.
Against one side of the house was a wooden lean-to where we kept logs for the fire so I dragged her in there out of the rain. Next I took a lantern down from the shelf in the corner and lit it so that I could get a better look at my captive. As I held it above her head, she spat at me, the pink viscous glob landing on my breeches. I could smell her now – a mixture of stale sweat and wine. And there was something else too. A faint stench of rotting meat. When she opened her mouth again, I could see what looked like pieces of flesh between her teeth.
Her lips were purple, as was her tongue – signs that she'd been drinking red wine. Her face was streaked with an intricate pattern of whorls and spirals. It looked like reddish mud but the rain hadn't managed to wash it off. She spat at me again so I stepped back and hung the lantern on one of the ceiling hooks.
There was a stool in the corner, which I placed against the wall, sitting well out of spitting range. It was at least another hour until dawn so I leaned back and closed my eyes, listening to the rain drumming on the roof of the lean-to. I was tired and could afford to doze. The silver chain had bound the maenad tightly and she'd no hope of setting herself free.
I couldn't have been asleep for more than a few minutes when a loud noise woke me. I sat up with a jerk. There was a roaring, rushing, whooshing sound, which was getting nearer by the second. Something was coming towards the lean-to and I suddenly realized what it was.