'Liar! Liar!' she shouted, her face only inches from my own. 'I'd hoped for better from you, but you're no better than John Gregory! Don't say I didn't give you a chance. You've proved yourself to be just the same. You'd take away my memory too, wouldn't you, boy? But now I remember everything. I know what I was and I know what I am!'
With our faces almost touching, Meg sniffed at me very loudly. T know what you are too' she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper now. T know what you're thinking. I know your darkest secret thoughts, the ones you couldn't even tell your own mother.'
Her eyes were staring hard into mine. They weren't points of fire like Mother Malkin's had been when we'd come face to face in the spring, but they seemed to be growing larger. She was a lamia witch and her body was stronger than mine, and now her mind was beginning to control me too.
'I know what you could be one day, Tom Ward,' she whispered, 'but that day's still a long way off. You're just a boy, while I've walked this earth more years than I care to remember. So don't try any of John Gregory's tricks on me, because I know them all. Every last one!'
She spun me round so that I was facing away from her and let go of my arm, quickly transferring her grip to my neck.
'Please, Meg! I didn't mean any harm,' I pleaded. T wanted to help you. I'd talked to Alice about it. She wanted to help you too ...'
'It's easy to say that now. Was giving me that filthy mixture to drink the way to help me? No, I don't think so. No more of your lies or it'll be the worse for you!'
'But they're not lies, Meg. Remember - Alice comes from a family of witches. She understood you and really felt sorry for what was happening. I was going to speak to Mr Gregory about you and-'
'Right, boy! I've heard enough excuses!' snapped
Meg. 'It's down to the cellar with you. Let's see how you like it down there in the dark. It's just what you deserve. I want you to know what I went through. I didn't sleep the whole time, you see. I kept waking up to spend long hours thinking, alone in the dark. Too weak to move, too weak to climb to my feet - trying desperately to remember all that you and John Gregory would like me to forget - I could still think and feel, knowing that it would be long, tedious, lonely months before anybody came to the door to let me out.. .'
At first I struggled, trying my best to resist, but it was useless: she was just too strong. Still gripping me by the neck, she marched me down the cellar steps, my feet hardly touching the floor, until we reached the iron gate. She had the key, and we were soon beyond it and descending deeper underground.
She hadn't bothered with a candle, and although I can find my way in the dark a lot better than most people, at each corner it grew darker and more difficult to see. The thought of the cellar below terrified me. I remembered her sister, the feral lamia witch, still imprisoned in the pit; I didn't want to be anywhere near her. But to my relief, when we turned the third corner, she brought me to a halt by the three doors.
With another key she opened the left-hand door, thrust me inside and locked it behind me. Then I heard her unlock the cell next to mine and go inside. She didn't stay very long. Soon that door slammed shut and she began to climb the steps. After a few moments there was the sound of the iron gate clanging shut; more steps, growing fainter and fainter; and then silence.
I waited a few moments in case she came back for some reason, then fumbled in my pockets for the stub of candle and my tinderbox. Seconds later the candle was alight and I looked around at my cell. It was small, no more than eight paces by four, with a heap of straw in the corner to serve for a bed. The walls were built from blocks of stone and the door was constructed of sturdy oak, with a square inspection hole near the top sealed with four vertical iron bars.
I sat down on the stone floor in the corner to think things through. What had happened while I'd been away? I felt certain that the Spook was now in the cell next to mine, the one where Meg spent her summers. Why else would Meg have gone in there? But how had the Spook ended up in Meg's power? He still hadn't been well when I'd left for home. Maybe he'd forgotten to give Meg her herb tea and she'd recovered her memory? Perhaps she'd put something in his food or drink - the same thing he'd been using all those years to keep her docile, most likely.
Not only that - there'd been Alice's influence. She'd kept chatting to Meg, talking to her about coming from a family of witches. Sometimes they'd whispered together. What had they been discussing? If Alice had had her way, Meg's dose of herb tea would have been reduced. Well, I didn't blame Alice for what had happened, but her presence in the Spook's house certainly wouldn't have helped the situation.
When I'd returned, Meg had only been pretending to be confused and had been playing a game with me.
Had she really been giving me what she'd called 'a chance'? If I hadn't tried to give her the herb tea, would she have treated me any differently? And then it hit me. When I got back to Anglezarke, I'd been so wrapped up in my thoughts of Morgan and Dad, I'd been completely blind to the evidence - signs I could see only too clearly now. Meg had called me 'Tom', not 'Billy', for the first time ever. And she'd remembered about my dad. Why hadn't I picked up on that at the time? I should have been on my guard. I'd let my heart rule my head, and now the whole County was in danger. A lamia witch free to roam once more, and neither a spook nor an apprentice to stop her. What was done was done, but somehow I had to put it right.