I caught two and came back to find that she’d already made a fire, so I set to work cooking our supper. Sometimes Lizzie liked her meat raw – she had a taste for rats – but on this occasion she was content to eat her rabbit straight from the cooking spit.
‘You’re lucky to be coming with me, girl.’ She licked her fingers. ‘There’s not many has the chance to see a spook get his come-uppance.’
‘How are you going to sort him, Lizzie?’ I asked nervously. I kept imagining the spook catching me and burying me alive in a pit, where I’d have to survive by eating slugs, snails and rats. Lizzie had taught me the spell to summon a rat, but I knew I’d never be able to face eating one raw.
‘There’s lots of ways, girl.’ For once Lizzie seemed pleased at my interest. ‘We could try cursing him, but that’s slow, and spooks, being seventh sons of seventh sons, have some immunity to it. So we’ve got to get in close and do it the hard way. Best way would be to get someone else to kill him for us . . .’
‘Who’d do that?’ I asked. ‘Would you put a spell on someone?’ There were spells of compulsion that could make people do things against their will, especially men. Men are much easier to control than women. And Lizzie was cruel, with a strange sense of humour – especially when it came to men. There was a miller who worked just south of Sabden village, a big man with more hair on his arms than on his head. Whenever we passed, she had him running up and down on all fours barking like a dog.
‘Why waste a spell when you can get the spook’s enemies to do it for you?’ she snapped.
‘Do we know any of his enemies who live nearby?’ I asked. No doubt he would have lots in Pendle, but we were strangers here.
‘That we do, girl, but not personally; just their names. Annie Cradwick and Jessie Stone – ever heard of them?’
I shook my head.
‘Not really surprising: both of ’em were daft enough to get married and change their names. But they’re both from Pendle originally. And when their husbands died, they started to practise the craft again. This spook caught and killed ’em both within a month of each other, and now they’re bound in graves in his garden. Once released, those two dead witches will happily do our work for us.’
We set off south again, and arrived on the outskirts of Bury a couple of hours before dawn. Dark as it was, it didn’t take Lizzie long to find the spook’s house. He lived about a mile east of the village down a narrow farm track. I learned that the coven had been taking it in turn to spy on him and search out his weaknesses, but I could see that the house certainly wasn’t one of them. As Lizzie pointed out, its only defensive flaw was that it could be overlooked from a nearby hill. That’s where we settled ourselves down to watch, hidden amongst the scrub and long grass at its summit.
The spook’s house was two storeys high, with an extensive garden enclosed by a stone wall that had only one big gate. Inside the garden there was a grove of trees; somewhere beneath their branches lay the graves of the two witches.
There were no lights showing from the house, but we watched until sunrise, then took it in turns to sleep, Lizzie doing most of the sleeping. Although we stared all day until our eyes ached, still there was no sign of life.
‘He must be away,’ said Lizzie as the sun started to set. ‘We’ll give it an hour, then go down and have a look around.’
‘Shall I catch us some rabbits first?’ I asked. I was famished.
Lizzie shook her head. ‘Work first, eat later!’ she snapped.
‘What’s the spook’s name?’
‘His name? What does that matter, girl? He’ll be dead soon, and he won’t need a name where he’s going!’
‘Not even for his grave?’ I asked.
Lizzie smirked. ‘Won’t be anything left of him to bury once those witches get their teeth and claws into him. Want revenge, they do, for spending years in the cold damp ground.’
The hour passed quickly, but I could tell that Lizzie was nervous. Witches like Lizzie use long-sniffing to detect approaching danger. It was something I’d found very easy to learn; to tell the truth, I thought I was already better at it than Lizzie. But it doesn’t work on a spook, because they’re seventh sons of seventh sons, so I knew she was worried that he might return while we were in his garden.
Darkness fell, but the sky was clear and there was a horned moon above, casting enough silvery light for us to see by. At last Lizzie led us down to the garden wall. The gate was made of iron, which caused witches lots of pain so I knew she wouldn’t want to climb over that. She gave me a wicked smile and nodded towards the stone wall.
‘Over you go, girl. Be quick about it. Call me once you’ve checked that it’s safe!’
Didn’t want to take any chances, did she? I was the one who had to take the risks. Still, I had no choice, so I clambered up and, once on top, lowered myself carefully until I was facing the inside of the wall. Dropping the remaining few feet, I bent my knees to lessen the impact and rolled over onto the grass. Then I kept perfectly still and listened. I was nervous. It seemed a terrible risk to trespass on a spook’s land like this.
I could hear a slight breeze whistling through the nearby trees, but apart from that, and a single hoot from a distant owl, all was silent.
‘Is it safe?’ Lizzie hissed.
I sniffed quickly three times. It seemed safe enough to me.
I came slowly to my feet and called back that it was all clear. Moments later, after landing with a thud on the soft ground, the witch was standing beside me. ‘Nice to see you still in one piece,’ she said with a sneer. ‘Never can tell what traps and snares a spook might use to protect his property. Take Old Gregory of Chipenden – he’s the strongest spook in the County and he’s got himself a powerful boggart guarding his land. It tears any intruder to pieces.’
Without a backward glance, Lizzie set off towards the grove of trees. I followed in her wake, fuming with anger. I’d never heard of spooks keeping a tame boggart. Had this spook also kept one to guard his garden, I’d be dead by now. Lizzie had used me to ensure her own safety.
Once within the trees, Lizzie made straight for the spot where two dark boulders lay side by side.
‘Annie and Jessie are buried underneath these big stones,’ she said. ‘Some spooks use iron bars to imprison a witch and stop her scratching her way to the surface. But Jacob Stone’s one of the old school, and a cheapskate at that. Boulders are free – you just need lots of strong shoulders to heave them into position over each grave, and labourers don’t cost much.’