Grimalkin must have found that deadly book, hidden it away and then taken it to Alice when she emerged from the dark. It was no wonder Alice hadn’t come to see me at Chipenden right away! She’d waited a whole week and then visited me on the edge of the garden without my master present. And she’d told me only half a tale. The Spook and I would have been in full agreement: it was madness to even attempt the incantation. I was hurt, really hurt, by Alice’s failure to confide in me.
My master considered the Doomdryte to be totally evil. He had wanted to burn it. Alice would surely die attempting such an impossible task. And even if she did succeed, what would be the result? Would it help her destroy the Fiend? My fear was that, in using that evil grimoire, she would finally become a fully-fledged malevolent witch.
Alice would have joined the dark.
‘Do you know where Alice is now?’ I asked Mab. ‘Could you take me to her?’
As I uttered these words, I remembered the last time Mab had taken me to her. It had been a trap: Alice had already been a prisoner of the Mouldheels.
‘She’s too well hidden,’ Mab retorted. ‘Must have used an incredibly powerful cloaking spell to hide from me.’
‘So she’s too strong – you can’t scry her whereabouts?’
It was a measure of Alice’s tremendous power that not even Mab could find her.
‘I wouldn’t go looking for her anyway!’ snapped Mab. ‘Me and Alice never did see eye to eye, and she wouldn’t thank me for meddling in her affairs.’
‘So you won’t help?’
‘Can’t – and wouldn’t if I could. There’s Grimalkin to worry about too. It doesn’t do to cross her. Anyway, it’s been nice talking to you, Tom. We’re off to visit the Wardstone. Need to learn the lay of the land so that we’ll know what’s what at Halloween.’
‘You’re wasting your time, Mab. I’d already decided not to carry out the ritual, and now that Alice is using the Doomdryte, I won’t even be there at Halloween.’
‘Don’t be so sure about that, Tom. Scrying is difficult – sometimes the future changes from minute to minute – but I do know one thing. Something really big and powerful is going to happen near the Wardstone this Halloween. Creatures of the dark will be drawn to that spot – some to fight for the Fiend, others to oppose him. There’ll be witches of every type, abhumans and other dark entities. The outcome of that conflict will change the world. And guess what! You’ll be there too – that’s one thing I’m sure of.’
With that, Mab gave me a wave of farewell, turned her back and led her grinning sisters off into the trees.
I stayed in the same spot for quite a while, deep in thought. My instincts told me that Mab was correct in at least one thing. Even without the ritual, something significant would happen at Halloween, and I felt certain that the Wardstone would play a part.
My mind returned to Tibb’s prophecy again; to the part that came before and finally she will die for you.
I remember what had preceded it: Tibb had claimed that she will betray you . . .
Isn’t that what Alice had just done? She’d been back from the dark for almost week before bothering to tell me that she was safe, that she’d survived. And she’d known that I’d be desperate for news. Not only that; she’d gone off to use the Doomdryte, knowing that it was against everything my master and I believed in.
Wasn’t that a betrayal?
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT I didn’t dream at all. It was a wonder, because I’d enough worries and anxieties to conjure a dozen nightmares.
There was no nightmare.
It was something far worse.
Well before dawn, I suddenly awoke in a cold sweat, certain that something was terribly wrong. I got out of bed, trembling from head to foot, full of dread and a terrible sense of loss. I felt sure that somebody close to me had died – or at least been badly injured.
My master!
I ran downstairs. The Spook was in the kitchen. He didn’t sleep in his bed every night. Sometimes his back felt stiff and sore of a morning, so he dozed upright in a chair. He was in his armchair now, close to the embers of the fire. He was very still.
Was he breathing?
I walked very slowly across the flags towards him. I was expecting the worst, but suddenly he opened his eyes, stared up at me and scratched his beard.
‘What’s wrong, lad? You look as white as a sheet.’
‘There’s something not right. Something’s happened to someone, I feel sure – something terrible.’
‘Perhaps it’s nothing, lad.’ My master rubbed the sleep from his eyes. ‘Maybe you just woke from a bad dream and carried the feeling of unease back with you. That happens sometimes.’
‘I wasn’t dreaming.’
‘Dreams can be forgotten at the instant of waking – you can’t be sure of that,’ said the Spook.
I shook my head. ‘I need to go outside,’ I told him.
Full of apprehension, I went out into the garden. The dark sky was covered with uniform light grey cloud; it was starting to drizzle. I shivered. The feeling of dread and loss was stronger than ever.
Suddenly there was something like a flash of light right inside my skull, and a pain in the centre of my forehead. And now the wrongness had a direction. Its source was some distance away – in a southeasterly direction.
I heard the Spook approach and stand at my side.
‘Whatever is wrong, it’s over there . . .’ I pointed through the trees.
‘It could be dark magic,’ said my master, ‘luring you out into a trap. The servants of the Fiend will never give in. We must be on our guard.’
‘It’s strange. I’ve never felt like this before. I’m scared . . . But you could be right – it might just be a trap . . .’
I began to pace up and down, my stomach churning with anxiety while the Spook stared at me, clearly concerned and alarmed.
‘Take deep breaths, lad. Try to calm yourself. It’ll pass in a few moments.’
‘But what if it doesn’t?’ I demanded, coming to a halt and looking him right in the eye.
All at once the need to go and investigate became overwhelming. ‘I have to go!’ I cried out. ‘I have to see for myself what’s wrong or I can never rest.’
The Spook stared into the trees for over a minute without speaking. Then he simply nodded.