'Good lad! He's a mage who uses the dead to help him and give him power.'
'How?' I asked.
'Well, as you know, ghosts and ghasts are both part of the job. But whereas we give 'em a good talking to and send 'em on their way, he does the opposite. He uses the dead. He uses them as spies. Encourages them to stay trapped on earth - to serve his purposes and help him line his pockets with silver. Sometimes by tricking vulnerable, grieving folk'
'Is he just a fraud, then?' I asked.
'No, he talks to the dead all right. So remember this and remember it well: Morgan is a dangerous man and his meddlings with the dark have given him some very real and dangerous powers which we should fear. He's ruthless too, and would seriously hurt anyone who got in his way. So stay well clear, lad.'
'Why haven't you stopped him before now?' I asked. 'Shouldn't you have sorted him out years ago?'
'It's a long story' said my master. 'Happen I should have, but the time wasn't right then. We'll deal with him soon. Try to steer clear of him till we're ready -and stop telling me how to do my job!'
I hung my head and my master tapped me lightly on the arm. 'Come on, lad, no harm done. Your point's a good one. I'm glad to see you're thinking with your head. And the girl did well to spot him talking to his sister's ghost. That's exactly why I placed her there, to look out for things like that!'
'But that's not fair!' I protested. 'You knew that Alice would have a hard time of it there.'
'I knew it wouldn't be a bed of roses, lad. But the girl has to make up for what she's done in the past and she's more than capable of looking after herself. Still, once we've dealt with Morgan, it'll be a far happier household. But first we've got to find him.'
'Alice says the Hursts lied. Morgan visits the farm a lot.'
'Does he now!'
'She said he isn't there at the moment but he could come back at any time.'
'Well, perhaps that's where we should start our search tomorrow,' the Spook said, looking thoughtful.
When the silence lengthened, I kept my promise to Alice even though I knew it was a waste of time asking.
'Couldn't Alice stay with us again?' I asked. 'She's really having a terrible time. It's cruel to leave her when there's room enough for her here.'
'Why ask a question when you already know the answer?' said the Spook, glaring at me angrily. 'Don't talk soft. If you let your heart rule your head, then the dark will beat you every time. Remember that, lad - it may just save your life one day. And we've enough witches living here already'
So that was the end of that. But we didn't visit the Hursts' farm the following day. Something happened that changed everything.
Chapter 7
Straight after breakfast a big, burly farmer's lad hammered on the back door with both fists, as if his very life depended on it.
'What are you trying to do, you big lummox?' cried the Spook, opening the door wide. 'Break the blooming thing?'
The lad stopped banging at the door and his face turned a bright red. T asked for you down in the village,' he said, pointing back towards Adlington. 'A carpenter came out of his yard and pointed the way up here. He told me to knock hard at the back door.'
'Aye, but he said knock, not thump it back into a tree,' said the Spook angrily. 'Anyway what's your business with me?'
'Dad sent me. He said to come right away. It's a bad business. A man's dead.'
'Who's your dad?' asked the Spook.
'Henry Luddock. We're at Stone Farm near Owshaw Clough.'
'I've met your dad and I've worked for him before. Are you William, by any chance?' 'That's right...'
'Well, William, the last time I visited Stone Farm, you were just a tiny babe in arms. Now, I can see you're upset, so come inside and take the weight off your feet. Then take a deep breath, calm yourself and start right at the beginning. I want all the details, so leave nothing out,' ordered the Spook.
As we walked through the kitchen to reach the parlour, I saw no sign at all of Meg. When she wasn't working it was usual for her to sit in her rocking chair, warming her hands at the kitchen fire. I wondered if she was keeping out the way now we had visitors - something she should have done when the groceries were delivered by Shanks.
Once in the parlour, William began his tale of events that had begun badly and then got a whole lot worse. It seemed that a boggart, probably the one my master and I heard passing along the ley line nights before, had settled itself at Stone Farm, starting its mischief by making a few noises during the night. It had rattled the pots and pans in the kitchen, banged on the front door and thumped the walls a few times. That was enough for me to identify it right away from the notes I had made about boggarts.
It was a hall-knocker, so I'd already guessed what was coming next in William's story. The next morning it had started throwing stones. At first they were just small pebbles which it pinged against the windows, rolled down the slates or dropped down the chimney. Then the stones got bigger. Much bigger.
The Spook had taught me that hall-knockers sometimes developed into stone-chuckers. These were bad-tempered boggarts and very dangerous to deal with. The dead man was a shepherd employed by Henry Luddock. His body was found on the lower slope of the moor.
'He'd been brained,' William told us. 'The stone that did it was bigger than his head.'