For now they were feeding upon the remains of the skelt, breaking into its body cavities to feed, splitting its limbs with their teeth to strip the meat from within.
I watched them, revolted and yet unable to pull my gaze away from the sight. It was then that I heard the barking . . .
The witches looked up from their frantic feeding. Now, in addition to the baying of approaching dogs, I could hear the pounding of heavy boots.
‘It’s Arkwright and those wolfhounds, back sooner than we expected!’ Lizzie hissed into my ear. ‘Whatever you do, girl, don’t move and don’t make a sound. The cloak should protect us from the spook, but the biggest danger is that the dogs might sniff us out. With luck they’ll be too busy biting pieces out of our slimy sisters!’
As the dogs emerged from the mist, teeth gleaming in the moonlight, saliva dripping from their open jaws, most of the witches ran for the water. They entered quickly, with hardly a splash, submerged and disappeared from sight.
For some reason, about five of them sprinted along another path into the marsh. I thought they were going to escape too, but the last one left it too late.
The first wolfhound seized her ankle in its jaws. She fell to her knees but struck back viciously at the animal. The long talons would have sliced open its head but, just in time, the second dog leaped onto her and gripped her wrist firmly in its jaws, shaking it like a rat.
The dogs looked capable of finishing her off, and she began to shriek and thrash, trying to drag herself back towards the water’s edge. But then the shaven-headed spook emerged from the mist and, with a curse, clubbed the witch with his long staff, striking her on the back of the skull. She went limp, and without hesitation he seized her by her long matted hair.
‘Good girl! Good lad!’ he exclaimed. ‘Now let go and we’ll take her back and put her where she rightly belongs!’
At that, the dogs obediently relinquished their prey and Arkwright began to drag the witch away by the legs, her head bouncing along the muddy path.
Lizzie grinned at the sight of this. I couldn’t understand it. This spook was the enemy of witches. It could just as easily be our heads banging on the ground.
Within moments spook, water witch and hounds had vanished into the mist.
When the sounds of their retreat had faded away, Lizzie turned towards me and twisted her face into an evil smile. ‘Well, girl, this could work out better than I expected!’ she said, full of glee.
‘I don’t understand. Doesn’t this spoil your plan?’ I asked.
‘Be patient and I’ll explain later. Just keep still and be quiet.’
But I was curious and couldn’t resist asking Lizzie a question.
‘Why did the witches let the skelt feed first, before taking the victims’ blood at second-hand?’ I asked. ‘They’re really strong. They could have ripped those people to pieces with their bare hands!’
‘Of course they could, girl!’ Lizzie snapped. ‘But that’s part of their ritual, ain’t it? Taking human blood that the skelt has already sucked up triples the strength of the magic.’
After about half an hour, to my dismay, I once more heard the barking of the dogs getting louder and louder.
‘They must have our scent,’ I told Lizzie nervously. ‘Let’s run for it!’
‘You stay put, girl. Got scents aplenty, they have, but they ain’t ours, don’t you worry.’
I didn’t understand how she could be so sure. Once more the dogs bounded out of the mist, the grim-faced spook hard on their heels. For one heart-stopping moment I thought they were going to run right at us, but then the dogs halted on the bank near the cage, sniffing at the blood-soaked ground and moving in widening circles.
Within moments they had bounded away down the path taken by the escaping witches, and Arkwright followed, gripping his staff, his face hard with determination.
When at last the sound of their pursuit faded away into the distance, I whispered to Lizzie, ‘Wouldn’t like to meet him on a dark night.’
‘You ain’t spoken a truer word, girl. They don’t come any meaner. It’s one thing to deal with an old spook like Jacob Stone; facing the Arkwrights of this world is a different matter. Ruthless, he is, and never gives up. Those dogs of his can track prey even across a marsh; before dawn he’ll no doubt catch at least one more of our slimy sisters. But while he’s away, we have time to set the first one free!’
With those words Lizzie set off, heading back in the direction we’d come from – towards the old watermill where the spook lived.
When we reached the edge of the moat, Lizzie halted and stared at me hard. ‘What do I want?’ she demanded at last.
‘To be carried across the salty water,’ I replied.
‘Of course I do, girl, so what are you waiting for? Shouldn’t have to ask, should I? You know what needs to be done!’ she hissed.
So I gave Lizzie a piggy-back across the moat, through cold water that came just above my knees. I wasn’t yet a witch, so neither the water nor the salt worried me. On the other side, she led the way towards the dilapidated mill. I thought she was going to try and get in through the front door, or maybe break a window. Instead she went round the side, heading towards the waterwheel. There were bits of it missing – it didn’t look like it had moved in years, despite the stream that still flowed beneath it.
There was a narrow door beside the wheel, but when Lizzie turned the handle and pushed, she found it was locked.
‘Soon have that open,’ she crowed, bending forward so her mouth was level with the lock. Then she spat into it and muttered a spell I didn’t know under her breath. She cocked her head and placed her ear next to it, as if listening for something.
Don’t know why she needed to put her dirty ear-hole so close. I heard it from three paces away – the grind and click as the lock opened. With a smile of triumph, Lizzie seized the handle again, turned it and opened the door.
Inside there was a stink of rotten wood and the air was damp. It was muddy underfoot, and on our left through the gloom I could make out the big curve of the waterwheel. With a mutter, Lizzie tugged something out of her skirt pocket. Instantly a flame flickered into life, and she held it up and led the way forward.
She moved slowly and cautiously. No doubt she reckoned the spook might have set some sort of trap to catch anyone who managed to get inside. She shuffled right and left, as if searching for something. Then, at last, she found it.