So the spook’s name was Jacob Stone. I started to feel almost sorry for him. No doubt the two imprisoned witches were like Lizzie, who I was pretty sure murdered children and drank their blood to gain power for her magic. I’d never seen her do it, but sometimes when she’d been away all night, she brought back fresh thumb-bones from her victims and boiled the flesh off them in a bubbling pot. Some of the bones had seemed too small to come from an adult.
‘Are we going to hire some labourers, then?’ I asked. ‘Can’t see how else we’re going to move those big boulders and free the dead witches.’
I was mocking Lizzie because that was the last thing she’d do. A witch like Lizzie never paid for anything. But she didn’t detect it because I kept my voice all innocent. I guessed she’d use some sort of dark magic but had no idea what it might be.
Lizzie smirked. ‘What we need is rats, girl. Lots and lots of fat juicy rats!’
With those words she sat down cross-legged and began to mutter a spell. It didn’t take more than thirty seconds before the first rat ran squealing towards her. It seemed daft to me. How could rats move big stones like those?
The rat, a big grey one with long whiskers, headed straight for her left hand. She gently tapped it on the head with her finger and it immediately lay still. But it was still alive – I could see its belly heaving. Within minutes Lizzie had thirteen rats laid out in a row. She dealt with each in turn in a way that filled me with disgust . . .
Lizzie bit the head off each rat, then spat it out at her feet before throwing the body away.
After the first two, I had to walk off, struggling not to be sick. But I knew she’d order me back and I wanted to go on my own terms so, a couple of minutes later, when my stomach had stopped heaving, I went back to find her on her knees before a small mound of rats’ heads. She was chanting spells again, this time with her eyes closed. Everything had become really still in the garden: the breeze had died down, and all I could hear was the muttering of the witch. Then I heard something else – the drone of a fly, and it sounded like a big one.
I hate all kinds of creepy-crawlies, but flies and spiders most of all. I couldn’t bear the feel of them on my skin so I jumped back.
An enormous bluebottle landed on the glassy left eye of the topmost rat’s head. The droning grew louder, and a frantic buzzing filled the air, louder than a swarm of bees. A dark cloud of flies descended on the severed rats’ heads. They writhed and buzzed and feasted, in a heaving mass.
Lizzie bowed forward until her forehead was almost touching the fly-covered mound. Then she uttered a word in the Old Tongue, and the flies surged up from their feast and swarmed as one onto Lizzie’s head and shoulders, completely covering her face. But then a hole appeared and I realized that she had opened her mouth wide. She stuck out her tongue, until that too was covered in flies.
I turned away and covered my ears with my hands to shut out that awful sound.
Next thing I knew, there was a tap on my shoulder, and I turned to see Lizzie laughing right in my face and licking her lips.
The flies had gone; no doubt most of ’em had flown away, but knowing Lizzie, she’d have swallowed a belly full.
‘You’re too squeamish by far, girl!’ she told me. ‘A witch needs to be hard. I likes eating rats, anyway – loves the taste of their blood – and a few flies don’t bother me much, although they’re not as tasty. Why should flies worry me when I’ve got what I need in return? They gave me the strength I need to move those boulders!’
There was a weird glint in her eyes, something I’d not witnessed before.
‘Something else you should know . . .’ she continued. ‘This power comes from a mighty daemon called Beelzebub. One of the Fiend’s best servants, he is – sits on his left-hand side. Best to have lots of different friends in the dark, and he’s one of mine. Helps me out a lot, he does. Don’t expect much back in return, either. But see what he’s given me now!’
Her words made me shiver. Lizzie walked across to the nearest boulder and pushed, rolling it away as if it were no heavier than a sack of feathers. As the grave was uncovered, there was a wet sucking squelching sound and a stink of soft mud. Moments later she’d moved the other stone too.
I was astonished by Lizzie’s display of strength. But it was one spell I certainly wouldn’t be using – I couldn’t bear the thought of biting off rats’ heads and being covered with flies.
‘Right . . .’ Lizzie pulled a knife from the pocket of her ragged skirt. ‘Now it’s time to free those two dead witches. I need more blood for that, but rats’ won’t do. I need human blood. So come here – you won’t feel a thing!’
I FROZE TO the spot. I didn’t like the sound of that one bit.
‘Come here, girl. I need your blood now!’ Lizzie commanded.
Did she mean to kill me? I wondered. Was I some sort of sacrifice? Is that why she’d brought me along?
‘My blood?’ I eyed the sharp blade nervously.
‘Can’t use my own, can I?’ Lizzie hissed. ‘I need to keep my strength up. Don’t you worry, girl. I’ll leave you just enough to keep your heart beating – although for a while it might flutter a bit.’
With those words she seized me by the left arm and pushed up my sleeve. There was a sharp sting, and then my blood was dripping onto the grave. It wasn’t over. There was the second grave to sort, and she made a cut to my right arm too. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I watched the thick drops fall onto the damp soil. I was shaking, and my stomach was knotted with fear.
It was the first time Lizzie had ever taken my blood for her magic. There would be many more such occasions – I still have the scars on my body to prove it, though they’re mostly under my clothes so they don’t show.
As Lizzie pushed the knife back into her pocket, she shook her head. ‘Ain’t that bad, girl,’ she told me. ‘Stop snivelling. Need that blood, we do, because we got problems here. There’s a nasty trick that spooks use. Annie and Jessie have likely been buried head down so that, without realizing it, they’ve been digging themselves in even deeper. We might have to drag ’em out by their feet. But your blood will give ’em a bit of encouragement and point them in the right direction. They’ll sniff it and make a special effort to get free.’