‘Ain’t telling me anything I don’t know already,’ Alice said bitterly. ‘Still too far apart to visit each other, aren’t we, so what difference does it make? Anglezarke or Chipenden – still adds up to the same thing in the end!’
‘It’s no better for me, Alice. Do you think I want to spend the next six months with Arkwright? You should have read the letter he sent. He says he’s ill and doesn’t even want me there. He’s only taking me grudgingly as a favour to the Spook.’
‘And do you really think I want to be left at Chipenden with Old Gregory? He still doesn’t trust me and probably never will. Won’t ever let me forget what’s been an’ gone, will he?’
‘That’s not fair, Alice – he’s given you a home. And if he found out what you’d done the other night, you’d lose it for ever and probably end up in a pit.’
‘I’m sick of telling you why I did it! Don’t be so ungrateful. Not in league with the dark and never will be – you can be sure of that. Once in a while I use what Lizzie taught me because I have no choice. I do it for you, Tom, to keep you safe. Nice if you could appreciate that,’ she snapped, glancing behind to see that my master was still at a safe distance.
We both lapsed into silence after that and even the brightness of the morning couldn’t lift our mood. The day wore on as we trudged north. It was nearly a month beyond the autumn equinox and the daylight hours were shortening, with the long cold winter approaching. We were still descending the lower slopes east of Caster when the light began to fail so we found ourselves a sheltered hollow to bed down in for the night. The Spook and I gathered wood and got a fire going while Alice caught and skinned a couple of rabbits. Soon they were spitting and hissing in the flames while my mouth began to water.
‘What’s it like to the far north of Caster?’ I asked the Spook.
We were sitting cross-legged before the fire while Alice turned the spit. I’d offered to help but she’d have none of it. She was hungry and wanted the rabbits cooked to perfection.
‘Well,’ my master replied, ‘some say it’s got the best scenery in the whole County and I wouldn’t argue with that. There are mountains and lakes, with the sea to the south. To the very extreme north of the County there’s Coniston Lake and the Big Mere east of it—’
‘Is that where Mr Arkwright lives?’ I interrupted.
‘Nay, lad, not so far north as that. There’s a long canal that runs in a northerly direction, from Priestown through Caster and into Kendal. His house is on the west bank. It’s an old watermill fallen into disuse but it serves him well enough.’
‘What about the dark?’ I asked. ‘Anything in that part of the County that I haven’t met before?’
‘You’re still green behind the ears, lad!’ snapped the Spook. ‘There are plenty of things you’ve still to face and you don’t need to go north of Caster to find ‘em! But what with the lakes and the canal, danger mostly comes from the water in those parts. Arkwright’s the expert on water witches and other creatures that make their homes in bog and slime. But I’ll let him tell you himself. It’ll be his job to train you for a while.’
Alice continued to turn the spit while we sat staring into the flames. She was the one to break the silence and there was concern in her voice.
‘Ain’t happy that Tom’s going to be up here alone,’ she said. ‘The Fiend’s in the world permanent now. What if he comes looking for Tom and we’re not around to help him?’
‘We must look on the bright side, girl,’ the Spook replied. ‘Let’s not forget that the Fiend has visited this world many times before. It’s not the first time he’s been here.’
‘That’s true enough,’ agreed Alice. ‘But apart from the first time, usually they were short visits. Some coven or witch would call him up. Lots of stories about that, there are, but most agree that Old Nick never stuck around for more than a few minutes at most. Just time enough to make a bargain or grant a wish in exchange for a soul. But this is different. He’s here to stay, with plenty of time to do exactly what he wants.’
‘Aye, girl, but no doubt the Fiend’ll be busy finding mischief of his own to carry out. Do you think he wanted to be bound to the will of the covens? Now that he’s free he’ll do what he pleases – not what they told him to do. He’ll be dividing families, turning husband against wife and son against father; placing greed and treachery in human hearts; emptying churches of their congregations; making food rot in the granary and cattle waste away and die. He’ll swell the savagery of war into a blood-tide and make soldiers forget their humanity. In short, he’ll be increasing the burden of human misery and making love and friendship wither like crops struck by the blight. Aye, it’s bad for everyone, but for now Tom’s probably as safe as anyone who follows our trade and fights the dark.’
‘What powers does he have?’ I asked, feeling nervous with all this talk of the Devil. ‘Is there anything more you can tell me? What should I be most worried about if he does come looking for me?’
The Spook stared at me hard, and for a moment I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he sighed and began to summarize the powers of the Fiend.
‘As you know, it’s said that he can take on any shape or size he likes. He may resort to trickery to get what he wants, appearing out of thin air and looking over your shoulder without you knowing it. At other times he leaves a calling card – the Devil’s mark – a series of cloven-hoof prints burned into the ground. Why he does that is anyone’s guess but it’s probably just to scare people. Some believe that his true shape is so appalling that one glance would kill you from sheer terror. But that might just be a story to scare children into saying their prayers.’
‘Well, the idea of it certainly scares me!’ I said, glancing over my shoulder into the darkness of the hollow.
‘The Fiend’s greatest power though,’ continued my master, ‘is his ability to tamper with time. He can speed it up so that, to anyone in his vicinity, a week passes by in less than an hour. He can do the reverse too – make a minute seem to last an eternity. Some say he can stop time altogether but there are very few accounts of that happening . . .’