I shrugged and dropped down among the gravestones. After all, it might be a bit creepy but I was the Spook's apprentice and I had to get used to places like this even if it was almost dark. I began to weave my way through the graves, moving downhill, and it wasn't long before my feet were crunching along a gravel path leading towards the chapel.
It should have been straightforward. The path led down the side of the chapel; beyond that, it meandered through the gravestones towards two huge yew trees which formed an archway over a gate. I should have kept walking but there was a glimmer of light showing in the small stained-glass chapel window, evidence of the flickering of a candle. And as I passed the door, I noticed that it was slightly ajar and I distinctly heard a voice from within.
A voice that called out a single word: 'Tom!'
It was a deep voice, a man's voice, a voice that was used to being obeyed. I didn't recognize it.
Even though it seemed unlikely, I felt that I was being called. And who could be inside the chapel who knew my name, or that I was passing by in the dark at that moment? There shouldn't have been anyone in the chapel at that time of night. It would only be used occasionally, for short services before burials.
Almost before I realized what I was doing, I went up to the chapel door, opened it and walked in. To my surprise there was nobody there, but immediately I noticed something really strange about the layout inside. Instead of rows of benches facing towards the altar, with an aisle between them, the benches were in four long rows against the wall and they were facing towards a single large confessional box against the wall to my right, which had two large candles positioned like sentries at either side of it.
The confessional box had the usual two entrances, one for the priest and one for the penitent. A confessional box is really two rooms with a dividing screen so that, although the priest can hear confessions through a grille, he can't see the face of the person making the confession. But there was something strange here. Someone had removed the doors so that I was facing two oblongs of utter blackness.
As I stared towards the doors, feeling very uneasy, someone stepped out of the darkness of the priest's entrance on the left and walked towards me. He wore a cloak and a hood just like the Spook.
It was Morgan, although the voice that called me hadn't been his. Was there somebody else in the chapel? As he approached, I had a sudden feeling of intense cold. Not the routine cold that told me something from the dark was close. It was different somehow. It reminded me of the cold I'd experienced when facing the evil spirit called the Bane in Priestown.
'We meet again, Tom,' Morgan said with a faint, mocking smile. 'I'm sorry to hear the news about your father. But he had a good life. Death comes to us all in the end.'
My heart lurched inside my chest and I stopped breathing. How did he know about Dad's illness?
'But death isn't the end, Tom,' he said, taking another step towards me. 'And for a while we can still talk to the ones we love. Would you like to speak to your father? I could summon him for you now, if that's what you want...'
I didn't reply. What he was saying was only just starting to sink in. I felt numb.
'Oh, I'm sorry, Tom. Of course, you don't know, do you?' Morgan continued. 'Your father died last week.'
Chapter 11
Morgan smiled again, but my heart lurched up into my mouth and I was filled with panic: the world spun about me. Without thinking, I turned and ran for the door. Once through it, I continued on down the path, my feet cmnching on the gravel. When I reached the gate, I turned and looked back. He was standing in the open doorway of the chapel. His face was in darkness so I couldn't see his expression, but he lifted his left hand and waved to me. The sort of wave you might give to a friend.
I didn't wave back. I just opened the gate and carried on down the hillside, a mixture of thoughts and emotions running through my head. I was distraught to think that my dad might already be dead. Could Morgan be right about that? He was a necromancer, so had he summoned some ghost who'd told him that? I refused to believe it and tried to push it to the back of my mind.
And why had I run away? I should have stayed and told him what I thought of him. But a lump had surged into my throat and my legs had carried me through the door before I'd had time to think. It wasn't that I'd been afraid of him, even though it had been really creepy to hear him say things like that in the chapel, with candles flickering behind him. It was being confronted with news like that.
I don't remember much about the rest of the journey, apart from the fact that it seemed to be getting colder and windier. By the evening of the second day, the wind had veered to the north-east and the sky seemed heavy with snow.
Snow didn't actually start to fall until I was within half an hour of home. The light was beginning to fail but I knew the way like the back of my hand and it didn't hinder my progress. By the time I opened the gate to the yard there was a white blanket covering everything and I was chilled to the bone. Snow always makes everything seem quiet, but a special evening stillness seemed to have fallen over the farmhouse. I entered the yard and the stillness broke as the dogs began to bark.
There was nobody about, though a light was flickering in one of the back bedroom windows. Was I too late? My heart was down in my boots and I feared the very worst.
Then I saw Jack: he came stomping across the yard towards me. He was scowling, his bushy eyebrows meeting above his nose.
'What kept you?' he demanded angrily. 'It doesn't take over a week, does it? Our brothers have been and gone. And James lives halfway across the County! You were the only one not to arrive-'