‘Were you present when my father died?’
‘Yes, Nessa, I was. He took a long time to die and was in a lot of pain. It wasn’t a pleasant death, and because you were so inconsiderate and ran off, he could have died all alone. But I was patient and stayed with him to the end.’
‘Did you borrow his soul?’
‘No, I wasn’t given the chance. Some souls aren’t confused at all. They don’t linger but go home straight away.’
‘Which way did my father go?’
‘He was an “Up”, little Nessa. So be happy for him. His soul sprang up into the sky without even the slightest of groans.’
‘Thank you.’ Nessa spoke quietly, and then she got to her feet and went back into the cave without another word.
Of course I’d lied about ‘borrowing’ souls. After you’ve taken their power there isn’t really much of them left. Once released, they spin slowly for a few moments, then give a little whimper and fade away. So they never get to go home – that’s the end of them. That might not be a bad thing with those who go down, but the others – the ‘Ups’ – might have lost a lot. It was a good thing for Old Rowler that he hadn’t lingered.
NESSA
I WENT BACK into the cave and waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. In the dim flicker of the campfire, I made out the forms of my two sisters. I could tell by their breathing that only Bryony was sleeping.
Saying nothing, I lay down, wrapped my blanket tightly about me, and tried my best to sleep. But I was upset, remembering over and over again the way Father had died, unable to get it out of my head. I was so ashamed that I’d run away and left him with just the beast for company.
Then another thought snared me. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Slither had said – how he harvested blood and souls. Something slowly came into my mind. I remembered my dream – the recurrent nightmare I’d had as a child – and now, suddenly, it all made horrible sense. Over and over again I’d dreamed of being paralysed in bed, unable to call for help, while something terrible sat on my chest, making it hard to breathe, and sucked blood from my neck.
As I grew older the nightmare had become less frequent and had then faded away altogether. I had assumed that my glimpses of the beast through my bedroom curtains when he’d visited the farm had given rise to my nightmare. Now, at last, I knew the truth. It had been real. It could be no coincidence that my nightmares had ended soon after Father had started to trade with Slither. That must have been part of the ongoing deal between the two of them – that Slither would leave us children alone.
Had part of that trade also been Father’s promise that if anything ever happened to him, Slither could have me in exchange for the safety of Susan and Bryony? It was hard to accept the idea that I must sacrifice myself. Had my father truly loved me? I wondered.
I thrust my doubts aside. Of course he had. Hadn’t he written that he would have sacrificed himself for us if necessary? Now I must do what I could to save my sisters.
‘Oh, I’m scared, so scared!’ Susan called out.
‘Shhh!’ I said. ‘Keep your voice down or you’ll wake Bryony.’
‘What are we going to do?’ Susan asked more quietly. ‘He’s taking us north to his own people. One is bad enough, but what about when we have to face hundreds or even thousands? They’ll kill us and eat us. Have you seen the way the beast stares at me? He keeps looking at my neck. He can’t wait to sink his teeth into me!’
She was right, but so far Slither had resisted his urges. ‘He’s savage, that’s true enough,’ I told her. ‘But he is certainly a creature of his word. He promised our father that you and Bryony would be safe, and I have no reason to believe that he will not honour that. Hasn’t he fought his own people to preserve us? We need to stay calm and believe that things will turn out for the best.’
I kept my own doubts to myself. It had been dangerous enough in the tower. How would we fare in Valkarky, where so many beasts might attack us?
‘How can we ever be happy again now that Father is dead and we’ve left our home for ever? It’s so cold, and it’s getting worse with every mile we travel north. Will we ever be warm and comfortable?’ Susan wailed, her voice rising with every word. ‘We left our trunks behind in that awful tower and all my best clothes were inside. I’ll never wear nice things again.’
Now she’d woken Bryony, who began to sob quietly. I suddenly felt very angry. Susan had always been selfish – no doubt that had come from being Father’s favourite. I was the eldest, yet Susan had always been bought new clothes while I’d routinely been given her cast-offs – I’d had to take them in so they would fit. Even the dress I was wearing now had once belonged to Susan.
‘You always think of yourself and nobody else!’ I snapped. ‘You’ve woken your sister and frightened her. You should be ashamed, Susan!’
Susan began to cry then, and that made Bryony worse.
Immediately I felt sorry for my outburst. We had to stick together while we still could. I knew it was harder, much harder, for Susan to adapt to this new situation. I had helped Father with the farm work – milking the cows, herding the sheep and feeding the chickens. I’d even taken his tools and repaired some of the fences. Mine had been mostly an outdoor life while Susan had made the beds and swept the floors. Of course she’d left the cooking and washing-up to me. So she’d had it relatively easy. No wonder she was finding our new life with the beast hard. I had to make allowances.
‘Hush! Hush!’ I called out more gently now. ‘Come here, Bryony. Come and sit by me and I’ll tell you a story.’
For a moment or two Bryony didn’t reply, but then, dragging her blanket with her, she crawled across and sat next to me. I put my arms around her and gave her a hug.
‘Tell me about the witches again, Nessa,’ she begged.
Bryony loved tales about witches, and, sitting in front of the kitchen fire on a dark winter’s evening, I had been only too happy to oblige. I’d told her the tales I’d learned from my mother. Bryony had never known her, so it pleased me to take her place and do what she’d have done if she’d lived. The witches I told her about were from Pendle, a place a long way to the south and in a foreign country far across a cold sea. She loved to hear about the different types of magic they used – some cutting off the thumb-bones of their enemies to steal their magical power. They were scary stories, but heard in a happy and secure environment. In those days Bryony knew nothing of Slither, and I’d ensured that when he visited the farm to talk to my father she never even glimpsed him.