This was where all the dead -witches gathered to prey on those who passed through or even skirted the wood. Lives were lost here every year. I gripped my rowan staff and kept perfectly still, listening carefully. Nothing seemed to be approaching, but there -was soft loam under my feet, and decades of dank autumns had provided perfect hiding places for dead witches. One could already be close by, hidden under the leaves. Step forward and she would grab my ankle! One quick bite and she'd start sucking my blood, growing stronger by the mouthful.I could use my rowan staff and probably manage to get myself free--that's what I told myself. I'd have to be quick. As the witch waxed stronger, my own strength would be waning. And what if I met one of the really strong witches? Father Stocks said there were two or three who roamed far beyond the dell in search of victims. I put this thought firmly from my mind.I began to move forward slowly and cautiously. As I did so, I wondered why the three sisters had now become so silent. Could it be that they were also worried about attracting the dead? Why should that be? Weren't they all witches together?
And then I remembered what Father Stocks had said about the ancient animosity between the three covens. Although there'd been some intermarriage between the Deanes and the Malkins, the clans only ever gathered together when they had to combine their dark power. Maybe the Mouldheel sisters were afraid of meeting a dead witch from a rival family.It was a tense, scary time; I risked being attacked at any moment. But at last, with a sigh of relief, I reached the far edge of the dell. I was very glad to be out from the shadow of those trees. Once more I was bathed in moonlight,watching the bobbing lanterns ahead of me and hearing the sisters' voices raised as if in anger. After ten minutes or so, they were descending a steep slope and I could see the glow from a fire lighting up the sky ahead. I hung back for a while, then took refuge in a copse of ash and alder. It was ready for thinning and cutting and so provided a good hiding place.
Moments later, I was peering out from a thicket of saplings with a clear view of what was taking place.Directly below was a row of terraced cottages --eight in all--and on the edge of the 'wide flagged backyard a big bonfire was blazing away, sparks dancing up into the night sky. In the near distance, among the trees, was another large cluster of cottages. This was probably Bareleigh, where the Mouldheel clan lived.In all, there were about two dozen people below me, an even mixture of men and women, and most were seated on the flags or grass, eating from plates with their fingers. It seemed harmless enough--just a few friends gathered together on a warm summer's night to eat in the moonlight. Voices carried on the air, mixed in with the sound of laughter.Toward the edge of the fire, a cauldron was suspended from a metal tripod, and as I watched, a woman ladled something into a bowl, then walked across and offered it to a girl seated at some distance from the others. Her head was bowed and she was staring down at the flags, but as the bowl was held out to her, she looked up and shook her head firmly three times.It was Alice!
Her hands were free, but I saw a glint of metal reflecting the firelight: Her feet were bound together with a padlock and chain.No sooner had I noticed her than the three sisters reached the yard. As they joined the gathering, everyone fell silent.Without a word to anyone, Mab walked directly over to the fire. She seemed to spit into it, and immediately it died right down. The sparks stopped dancing, the flames flickered low, and the embers glowed momentarily before fading to gray, all in the space of a few moments.Lanterns still lit the scene brightly, though, and at a signal from Mab, I saw one of the men -walk across, lift Alice over his shoulder, and carry her through the open back door into the end cottage to my left.My heart was in my mouth. I remembered what Mab had said about me belonging to her once Alice was dead. Were they going to kill her now? Had the man taken her inside to do just that?I was on the verge of running down the hill to the cottage to try and help her. It would have been hopeless with so many people there, but I couldn't just stand by and let Alice be harmed. I waited for a few moments, anxiety gnawing away at my insides. At last I could stand it no longer, but before I could move the man reappeared alone at the door of the cottage and locked it behind him. Immediately Mab, -with her two sisters -walking just behind, led the gathering out through a gate and onto a track beyond the cottage which ran parallel to a stream.I waited until everyone had disappeared into the distance, toward what looked to be the center of Bareleigh.
Then I descended the hill cautiously. There was a chance that someone was still inside the cottage, someone who'd been there all along. I mean, would they go off and leave Alice unguarded? It seemed very unlikely.When I reached the door, I unlocked it with the special key Andrew had given me.I eased the door open slowly and stepped directly into a cluttered kitchen. By the light of three black wax candles, I saw that the sink was heaped with unwashed plates and pots and the flagged floor was littered with animal bones and splattered with congealed fat and grease. As I closed the door gently behind me, my eyes darted around the room, alert for danger. It seemed deserted, but I didn't move. I just leaned back against the door, the stink of rancid fat and rotting food in my nostrils, and breathed slowly to calm my nerves, listening very carefully all the while.
The rest of the cottage sounded empty, but it was almost too silent. It seemed hard to believe that Alice would make no sound at all. At that thought, my heart began to hammer in my chest again and my throat tightened with fear. What if she'd already been killed? What if the man had brought her into the house for just that purpose?The horror of that thought started me moving. I would have to check each room in turn. It was a small single-story cottage, so there was no upstairs to investigate. The inner door opened into a tiny, cramped room; on the bed were creased, dirty sheets, and another black candle flickered on the window ledge. There was no sign of Alice. Where could she be?Beyond the bed, set into the far wall, was another door. I turned the handle, eased it open, and stepped through to find myself in the living room.One glance told me that I wasn't alone! To my right was the hearth, where the embers of a coal fire gleamed. But directly facing me, sitting hunched at a table, was a witch with wild eyes and a mass of frizzy white hair. In her left hand was a candle stub with a flickering flame that gave off a lot of smoke. Instinctively I raised my staff as her mouth opened and she began to shout, shaking her fist toward me.
But there was no sound, and instantly I realized that the witch wasn't actually in the room with me. I was looking into a large mirror. She was using it to watch from a distance.How far off was she? Miles away or close at hand? Wherever she was, using another mirror, she might well be able to tell the Mouldheels that there was an intruder in the cottage. How long before somebody returned?Below the mirror and to my left I could see narrow steps leading down into the darkness. There must be a cellar. Could Alice be down there?Quickly I pulled my tinderbox and a candle stub from my breeches pockets. Moments later, ignoring the witch, who was still ranting silently in the mirror, I was on my way down the steps, candle in my right hand, staff in my left. There was a locked door at the bottom, but my key made short work of that. I eased it open and let the candle illuminate the room.Relief washed over me as I saw Alice sitting with her back against the wall next to a heap of coal. She seemed unhurt.