Suddenly it felt as if something had reached into my mind and tugged hard. It happened again, and with that strange tug I felt an overwhelming compulsion to walk towards the glowing orbs. I gave a gasp of fear and lurched to my feet in terror. I had seen such entities before – I knew what they were and the terrible danger that they represented.
They were Romanian witches, who lived isolated lives, and in human form did not usually form covens like other types of witch. These were their souls, projected from their bodies using animism magic; it was only in this way that they ever gathered together. According to my master’s Bestiary, unlike the other dark Romanian entities, they didn’t drink human blood; but if they encountered a human when in the form of orbs, they could drain his animus, his life force, in seconds. It was a quick and certain death. I could feel their power. They knew that I had travelled to Todmorden with my master and was still somewhere in the vicinity. However, they didn’t know my precise whereabouts and were trying to summon me, using dark magic.
At first it was like strange powerful music inside my head – it reminded me of the sirens off the coast of Greece, who had used their melodious cries to lure our ship onto the rocks. I had managed to resist them: a seventh son of a seventh son possesses some immunity against witches and other entities of the dark. Now I did the same, until the music inside my head eventually faded and ceased altogether.
Maybe they sensed my increasing strength, because next the lure became visual. The spheres of light moved more rapidly, pulsing and changing colour in an ever more complex dance, and I felt my will slipping away, my mind like a moth drawn towards the candle flame that would consume it.
I crouched down on all fours and fought hard against the compulsion; rivulets of sweat ran down my forehead. Gradually the urge to go towards them lessened then faded away. But still I was in danger – if they noticed me, then I was doomed.
After about ten minutes of dancing together high above, darting in and out of the red light, the nine orbs combined to form one large glowing sphere, which then sped northwards and vanished.
Where had they gone? Were they hunting some chosen victim? It struck me that they would try to avoid killing too close to their homes, which would attract attention. Todmorden would rapidly become depopulated and terror would spread westwards through the County.
The wind, which had been blowing fiercely, first lessened to a breeze then died away altogether. A deep silence settled upon the river valley. The few sounds were greatly magnified. I heard the eerie screech of a corpsefowl, and soon afterwards the call of an owl. In the distance beyond the river, a baby cried; then someone coughed and swore. After a few moments the child was quiet – no doubt its mother was feeding it. These were all natural sounds of the night – but then I heard something else.
First there was a deep groan, followed by a shrill scream that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The sounds came from two different directions. Next, from somewhere directly below me, a voice began to beg:
‘Leave me tonight, please! Not again, not so soon. I won’t see the dawn if you do that again! Please, please, leave me be!’
Drawn by this cry for help, I was on my feet in an instant and began to scramble down the slope. Soon I had climbed over a wooden fence and was under the trees. The sounds were closer and much louder now.
‘Oh no, please don’t. That’s enough. Don’t take too much. Please don’t carry on or my heart will fail! Don’t stop my heart, please! I don’t want to die . . . ’
I was running now, and I drew the sword. Instantly the ruby eyes cast their red light in my path, and I saw the horror before me. It was a strigoi which could have been the twin of the one I’d fought at the Fresque house; it glowed with a lurid orange light, and its head was bald, with the same large pointed ears.
The strigoi was crouching over a man dressed in a ragged gown; it had half pulled him out of a dark hole in the ground, beside which lay a large stone. Its teeth were fastened onto its victim’s neck and it was sucking his blood.
THE STRIGOI TURNED, saw me coming, and cast its victim aside on the grass. It spun round to face me, then attacked, mouth wide, fangs ready to bite me, talons extended to rend my flesh. I hardly broke my stride. I was in a rage, all the pent-up emotion of the past twenty-four hours released in a violent fury.
I lunged at the daemon, but it quickly retreated, and the tip of my blade missed it by less than an inch. I swung at it again, but it evaded that blow too. It snarled at me and took a step forward, preparing to attack. I remembered the speed of the strigoi that had attacked me in the library, and immediately started to focus on slowing time.
Suddenly I felt the sword move in my hand, and blood began to drip from the ruby eyes in the hilt. I became one with the blade. Gripping it with both hands, I took one step to the left, two to the right, and then, with all my strength, brought the blade down vertically upon the head of the strigoi. It sliced clean through its skull, cleaving it to the jaw, and the creature fell at my feet. I tugged the blade free, feeling a tremendous sense of satisfaction.
As I had expected, an orange helical light spiralled up from the daemon, spun there for a couple of seconds, and then shot up into the sky, disappearing over the treetops. I had killed the body, but its soul was still free. Would it now, like the partner of Mistress Fresque, go in search of another host?
Still shaking with anger, I returned the Destiny Blade to its sheath and turned to look at the man, who had crawled onto his knees. He stared up at me, his eyes wide with astonishment. But he couldn’t have been more surprised than me – it was Judd Brinscall.
‘You betrayed us!’ I shouted. ‘You led us into the clutches of those daemons!’
He tried to speak, opening his mouth, but no words came out. I leaned down, put my hand on his shoulder and dragged him to his feet. He felt like a dead weight leaning against me, and his whole body was trembling. He stank of blood and the earth he’d been entombed in. I thought of what had been done to my master, and I had half a mind to put him back in the pit and cover it with the stone. No doubt another strigoi would find him and finish him off. It was no more than he deserved!
I started to push him towards the pit but suddenly thought of Dad and how he’d taught me right from wrong. And no matter what Judd Brinscall had done, it was wrong to give him back to the strigoi. And I wondered about his situation: was his reward for betraying us to be drained of blood? It didn’t make sense. Not only that . . . I’d run like a coward myself. Who was I to judge him?