'There, that should hold her fast until the mason and the blacksmith arrive,' my master said, coming to his feet. 'Now let's see how Meg is ...'
He walked over towards Meg's pit and I followed, carrying the candle. He looked down and shook his head sadly. Meg was lying on her back looking up at us, her eyes wide and angry, but the chain still bound her tightly and she couldn't speak.
'I'm sorry' I said. 'Really sorry. I was-'
The Spook held up his hand to silence me. 'Save your words for later, lad. It really hurts me to see this...'
I heard the choke in the Spook's voice and caught a glimpse of the grief on his face. I looked away quickly. There was a long silence, but at last he gave a deep sigh.
'What's done is done,' he said sadly, 'but I never thought it would come to this. Not after all these years. Anyway, let's go and attend to the other one ...'
We went back up the steps until we reached the live witch, Bessy Hill.
'By the way, that was well thought out, lad!' exclaimed the Spook, indicating the line of salt and iron. 'Good to see you using your initiative.'
Bessy Hill turned her head slowly to the left and seemed to be trying to speak herself. The Spook shook his head sadly and pointed downwards at her feet.
'There, lad. You take her right foot, I'll take her left. We'll pull her down slowly. Gently, now! We don't want to bang her head ...'
We did just that, and it was unpleasant work: Bessy's right foot felt cold, damp and slimy, and as we dragged her downwards she began to snuffle and spit.
It didn't take long though, and soon she was back in her pit. All it needed now was the bent bars to be replaced and she'd be safe for a long time.
We didn't speak for a while and I guessed that the Spook was thinking about Meg, but soon there was the distant sound of men's voices and heavy boots.
'Right, lad, this'll be the smith and the mason. I'd half a mind to ask you to deal with Meg, but if s not right and I won't shirk what has to be done. So you get yourself back up those steps and light a big fire in every downstairs room. You've done well - we'll talk later.'
On the way up I met the smith and the mason. 'Mr Gregory's at the bottom of the steps,' I told them. They nodded and carried on down. Neither of them looked happy. It was grim work but it had to be done.
Later, when I went back down into the cellar to tell my master that I'd lit the fires, Meg was still in her pit but my silver chain was safely back in his possession and he handed it to me without a word. The stone and iron cover had been dragged into place and locked with metal pins driven deep into the ground.
Now she was imprisoned beneath iron bars just as firmly as the other witches. The Spook must have been really sad having to do that but he'd done it anyway. It had taken him almost a lifetime, but Meg was finally bound.
It was late afternoon before the work was done and the mason and smith had finally gone on their way. The Spook turned to me as he closed the door after them and scratched at his beard.
'There's just one more job before we eat, lad. You might as well get yourself upstairs and clean up that mess in the attic'
Even after all that had happened I hadn't forgotten about the grimoire. I hadn't forgotten what Morgan might do to Dad. And here was my chance! So, my hands shaking at the thought of how I was going to betray the Spook and steal the grimoire, I carried a mop and bucket up to the attic. After closing the skylight I began to clean the floor just as fast as I could.
Once the job was done it would take just a few moments to force the desk and hide the grimoire in my bedroom. I'd never seen the Spook go up to the attic, so I could give it to Morgan without him realizing that it had gone.
Having cleaned the floor of feathers and blood, I turned my attention to the writing desk. Although it was a well-crafted desk, ornate but soundly made, it wasn't going to take me long to get it open. I pulled the small crowbar from my jacket pocket and eased it into the crack between the doors.
At that moment I heard footsteps behind me and jumped up guiltily to see the Spook standing in the doorway, a look of anger and disbelief on his face.
'Well, lad! What have we here!'
'Nothing,' I lied. T was just cleaning this old desk.'
'Don't lie to me, lad. There's nothing worse in this world than a liar. So this is why you went back into the house. The girl couldn't understand it...'
'Morgan told me to get the grimoire from your desk in the attic!' I blurted out and hung my head in shame.
'I'm supposed to take it to him on Tuesday night at the graveyard chapel. I'm sorry - really sorry. I never wanted to betray you. I just couldn't bear the thought of what he might do to Dad if I didn't.'
'Your dad?' The Spook frowned. 'How can Morgan harm your dad?'
'My dad died, Mr Gregory.'
'Yes, the girl told me last night. I was sorry to hear that.'
'Well, Morgan summoned Dad's spirit and terrified him...'
The Spook held up his hand. 'Calm yourself down, lad. Stop gabbling and slow down. Where did all this happen?'
'In his room at the farm. He summoned his sister first and she brought Dad. It was Dad's voice and Morgan made him think he was in Hell. He did it again in Adlington - I definitely heard Dad's voice inside my head - and Morgan said he'd keep doing it if I didn't obey him. I went back to get the grimoire, but when I got up to the attic, the feral lamia was there feeding on the birds. I ran downstairs in a panic to find Meg there waiting. My first throw of the chain I missed her and thought I was done for.'