'They had my master's head in a box. By means of dark magic, it still lived. She said they'd fed the rest of his body to a moroi. He talked to me and said he was in terrible pain. He begged me to release him from his torment.'

Judd lifted his head and stared at me, then stood up and gripped me by the shoulders. 'Where were you when you saw the head?'

'The Fresque house.'

Judd slapped his hand hard against his head three times and his eyes widened. 'Now I see!' he cried. 'How many times have you been in that house, Tom?' he demanded.

'Four . . . no, five times,' I answered.

'And am I right in thinking that its appearance changed each time you entered?'

'Yes a on the last occasion I was there, the door to the cellar was gone. There was just a blank wall.'

'Listen to me, Tom. Nothing in there ever remains the same for long. Remember what I told you about the houses of strigoii and strigoica? They draw power from a grimoire to maintain their illusions. I don't want to raise your hopes too much . . . but you know what I'm getting at, don't you?'

My heart soared, and despite his warning I was filled with new hope. 'I saw their grimoire. They were using the Doomdryte, one of the most powerful and dangerous of all. So you mean the head in that box might have been an illusion . . . that my master isn't really dead? Could that really be possible?'

'As I said, don't get your hopes too high, but yes, it is a possibility. He could well still be alive. They could be keeping him in one of the pits scattered across the hillside. He's strong for his age, but he won't last long if they feed from him frequently. He could be dead already, but I'll tell you one thing: I know of no Romanian daemon or witch magic that can keep a soul living on in a severed head.'

'Why didn't you tell me this before?' I asked, suddenly angry.

'I wasn't thinking straight, Tom. I'm sorry. There were a lot of things whirling around in my mind at the time.'

'What about the Fiend?' I nodded towards the leather sack at Grimalkin's side. 'We decapitated him but his head still talks.'

'That's different, Tom. The power comes from within him a it's part of his being. To do that to John Gregory would be almost impossible.'

'Almost?'

'Who knows what can be achieved when the resources of the dark combine a they must indeed be desperate to restore the Fiend to his former state. But we may hope . . . ' Judd trailed off, frowning.

I continued my account, shaking my head bitterly at the end. I turned to Grimalkin, who was sitting next to Alice opposite Judd and me. 'This is exactly what they wanted,' I told her. 'For me to lure you here so that they could seize the Fiend's head. This is the most dangerous place you could possibly be.'

'We sensed that you were in trouble and were on our way here anyway, so don't blame yourself,' she replied. 'I have been in danger many times since I last saw you, child, but each time I have prevailed a sometimes with the help of others.' She nodded at Alice. 'But I agree that the most important thing is that this' a she tapped the leather sack a 'should not fall into our enemies' hands. From what you've told me, the Old G.o.d, Siscoi, const.i.tutes the greatest threat, so we should not stay in this place longer than necessary.'

'I can't leave without trying to save my master,' I told her, 'or at least ensuring that he really is dead and at peace. Alice, will you try to find him for me? I wouldn't ask this of you, but there's no other way.'

'Of course I will, Tom,' she replied. 'That ain't no trouble at all. I can do it now . . . '

Alice closed her eyes, took a deep breath and started to mutter under her breath. Her actions took me completely by surprise. I had expected her to go up onto the hillside with me and sniff out his whereabouts. But here she was, almost casually resorting to some sort of dark magic; such actions seemed almost second nature to her now.

She opened her eyes and stared at me. When she spoke, her voice was matter-of-fact. 'They have him in a pit high to the northeast.'

I had to force the words out: 'Is it just his head or the whole of him?'

'I can't say, Tom. I can sense his spirit, that's all. It could be either. Whatever the situation, it's best we go and get him now before it's too late.'

But Grimalkin shook her head. 'No, Alice, I will go with Tom. You take this and defend it with your magic if need be.' She rose to her feet and handed the sack to Alice. Then she turned to Judd. 'You go with her. Both of you wait at the top of the western moor. We'll join you as soon as we can.'

Judd agreed without question. The fearsome Grimalkin had taken command and it seemed natural to obey her.

'There's a farmer up there,' I said. 'His name is Benson and he has horses and a cart. He was going to take our books to Chipenden a he was angry when they weren't waiting for him and seemed far from happy with the compensation. But pay him well enough and we could use the cart to get my master away safely. Wait for us on the edge of the moor.'

It was quickly agreed, and I went upstairs and brought down the Spook's bag and my own. I gave one to Alice and one to Judd for safe-keeping.

'What about the innkeeper?' I asked.

Grimalkin gave me an evil grin. 'He's as scared as the rest of them in this town, and no threat at all. The danger is up on that hill.'

So, without further ado, Alice and Judd set off west while Grimalkin and I started to walk towards the river.

The town was deserted and all was quiet, but hiding behind locked doors wouldn't help the folk who lived here. If they had any sense they'd leave.

'No doubt they'll see us coming,' Grimalkin told me. 'Your actions will have made them vigilant. To attack by night would be better, but the threat to your master's life gives us no choice. We must simply be bold and fast. As soon as we cross the river, start to run a remember to draw your sword first!'

By now we were under the trees and had almost reached the ford. I was hoping against hope that we'd find my master alive. I could hardly bear to think about what awaited us in the pit. What if it was just his head, still conscious, and I had to burn it to give his spirit peace? It was a terrible prospect.

'Once we're near the place Alice indicated, I'll sniff out his precise location,' Grimalkin said. 'Our enemies could arrive very quickly. When we are attacked, stand behind me and keep out of my way. Your job is to guard my back. Understand?'

I nodded. Seconds later, we'd crossed the river and Grimalkin set off at a furious pace. I ran at her heels, struggling to keep up. Soon the cobbled streets were behind us and we were climbing. Even now she hardly slowed, despite the steepness of the incline.

The weather, which had been bright and sunny when we crossed the ford, now began to change. Once more the creatures of the dark were using it against us. But this time, instead of a storm, tendrils of mist began to snake up the hill towards us.

When we were nearing our destination, Grimalkin paused and sniffed three times while I waited at her back, sword drawn, panting for breath. She pointed at a group of trees surrounding one of the large houses and immediately began to sprint towards it. They proved to be hawthorns a an overgrown hedge that had once marked the boundary of a field a and beside them was a deep ditch. By now the mist had reached us. It soon began to thicken and the light grew dim.

That was no impediment to the witch a.s.sa.s.sin's skills. Grimalkin ran on to the furthest of the trees a the one closest to the house a and immediately found the pit. It was sealed with a heavy stone, but she grasped it firmly and wrenched it off to reveal the dark fetid hole beneath. My eyes are pretty good in the dark but I couldn't see a thing.

'Can you stand, John Gregory?' she called down into the darkness. 'If so, extend your arms upwards as far as you can. It's me, Grimalkin a and your apprentice, Tom, is by my side.'

Could she see him with her witchy eyes? I wondered. Was he whole? Or was she just calling down to find out if he was there?

A series of coughs issued from below; it was the sound of an old man struggling to clear his chest and get air into his lungs, but I remembered the head coughing and spluttering inside its box. In a moment we would learn the truth. But now I could hear other noises from the direction of the house: a woman's voice called out angrily in a language I did not recognize a it had to be Romanian.

'Quickly, there is little time!' Grimalkin hissed into the pit.

Again there was a fit of coughing from below, but this time my master spoke. I was glad that he was alive, but his words were not the ones I'd hoped to hear.

'Leave me be, witch!' he cried in a quavering voice. 'My time has come. I would rather die here.'

It was awful to hear him sounding so old and frail. I peered down into the pit, my eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. Now that I could finally see him, a wave of relief washed over me. My master was leaning back against the side of the shaft, staring up at us. He looked terrified and defeated, but his head was still attached to his body.

'Your work isn't over yet!' Grimalkin said. 'Hold up your arms. The enemy are approaching a every second you delay endangers all our lives!'

'Please, master!' I called. 'The whole County is in great danger. The murderous daemons and witches plan to move westwards. They're trying to raise Siscoi too. We need your help. We can't do it alone. Don't let us down. Don't let it end like this.'

For a moment there was silence. Then I heard Mr Gregory let out a long weary sigh and he stretched his arms upwards. The next moment Grimalkin reached down into the pit and drew him up so that he was standing beside us.

I had never seen him look so weak and old. He was trembling from head to foot, barely able to stand. His gown was stained with what I a.s.sumed was his own blood, and there were deep bite marks on his neck. In his eyes I saw such an expression of weariness and anguish that my heart lurched with pain.

Without a word Grimalkin hoisted him over her shoulder, his arms and head hanging down her back.

All at once I heard feet pounding towards us through the thickening mist, but the speed of the attack took me completely by surprise. A strigoica had been lurking in the ditch we'd pa.s.sed, and suddenly I saw her taloned fingers lunging towards my face.

I swung my sword at her hastily, losing my balance and slipping forward onto my knees on the damp gra.s.s. For a second I thought my time had come, but now it was the daemon's turn to fall: a blade was deeply embedded in her left eye and blood ran down her cheek. After her first throw, Grimalkin already had another blade at the ready. She turned again, gripping the Spook's legs, and set off down the hill. I quickly got to my feet and followed in her wake.

When I had fled with Judd, nothing had stood in our way; on this occasion daemons were waiting for us in the thick fog. We broke through the first line, Grimalkin cutting down a shadowy figure as we did so. I glimpsed something huge to my right, and slashed at it, feeling a momentary shock as my blade made contact. The creature fell back, giving a cry of pain a another bear possessed by a moroi.

Then we were in serious trouble. Our enemies were all around, and claws and teeth lunged for us out of the mist. There were both strigoii and strigoica; the heavy fog conjured by dark magic was allowing the former to attack even during daylight hours.

'My back!' Grimalkin shouted. 'Remember what I said. Guard my back and I'll do the rest!'

She began to fight in earnest, all fluidity and grace, each blow spilling the blood of our enemies. But guarding her back proved difficult because she never remained facing in one direction for long. At first I slashed wildly with my sword, struggling to keep my footing on the slippery hillside while keeping our attackers at bay. Just in time, I drew the dagger and was able to stab a fanged strigoi who had ducked beneath the Destiny Blade. The creature put up its right hand to shield its face. That cost it three of its fingers. Not for nothing was the dagger named Bone Cutter.

Even though she was carrying the Spook across her shoulders, which meant that she could fight with only one blade at a time, Grimalkin was constantly whirling and spinning round, each blow bringing forth a cry of pain. I continued to try and shield her back, using both blades. At one point I attempted to slow time, but so fast and furious was the fight that I was unable to summon the necessary concentration.

Finally I was no longer able to keep up with Grimalkin: I was hard pressed on all sides, struggling to keep my enemies at bay. My arms grew heavy; I was exhausted. But then Grimalkin was at my side again. 'That way!' she ordered. 'Follow me!'

The witch a.s.sa.s.sin had cut an escape route through those who stood in our way, and soon we were running down the hill, our enemies left somewhere behind us in the mist.

We encountered no more dark ent.i.ties, and somehow we managed to cross the ford. But I knew that we were no longer safe on this side of the river. The pact was over.

The streets were empty and utterly silent as we climbed the slope of the western moors. Had the inhabitants locked and barred their doors even though it was still daylight? Or had they fled westwards?

'Put me down,' the Spook cried feebly. 'I don't want to be a burden. Let me walk.'

Grimalkin didn't bother to reply; simply increased her pace. As we left the houses behind and followed the track up onto the moor, the fog began to thin and soon we emerged into bright sunshine. I glanced back, but the town and the river were still shrouded from our view. There was no sign of Alice and Judd. I was just starting to worry when they appeared in the far distance, walking alongside a cart.

When they drew closer, I saw Benson's eyes widen with fear at the sight of Grimalkin. However, he had been paid well, and once the Spook had been carefully lifted up onto the cart, he urged his horses off at full tilt. Quickly Alice handed the leather sack to Grimalkin who hoisted it onto her shoulder. Then we ran after the cart.

We were retreating now, but it was only temporary. It was our duty to return to Todmorden to deal with the threat.

For the first half-hour Grimalkin, Alice, Judd and I sprinted beside the cart, alert for danger, but then Benson turned towards us.

'It'll kill the horses to keep up this pace!' he shouted, shaking his head.

The beasts were sweating, and at a nod from Grimalkin he flicked the reins and slowed them to a trot. After dark we rested for a few hours, taking it in turn to keep watch. Soon we were moving again. The antic.i.p.ated attack never came, and as the hours pa.s.sed, Chipenden drew steadily closer.

Normally this would have quelled my anxiety, but the combined power of the Romanian ent.i.ties could reach us even there. Nowhere was safe.

THE FIRST NIGHT back in Chipenden pa.s.sed without incident, but we felt certain that our enemies would attack soon, so we remained vigilant. My master was having a difficult time of it a about an hour before dawn I heard him cry out in anguish.

As yet there were no beds, so we'd made the Spook as comfort able as possible on the kitchen floor. He was wrapped in blankets, lying on a pallet of straw to insulate him from the chill of the flags. I rushed over to find him groaning in his sleep. No doubt he was having a nightmare, reliving the horrors of his incarceration and the draining of his blood. I considered waking him, but after a few moments he quietened down and his breathing became steadier.

I found it difficult to get back to sleep. Soon after first light I went outside to stretch my legs and inspect the work on the house. The new roof was now up and the doors and windows had been replaced so at least we were sheltered from the elements.

Inside, much remained to be done. Upstairs, the bedrooms could not be used because the floorboards had either been burned away entirely or were clearly unsafe. This was the carpenter's next job. However, he had already reconstructed the library floor, as that was high on my master's list of priorities.

Later, when I went to check on the Spook again before breakfast, he was sitting with his back against the wall, facing towards the fireplace. On one side of him was half a bowl of chicken soup. On the other, close at hand, was his Bestiary.

Logs were burning in the grate and, although spa.r.s.ely furnished, the kitchen was cheerful and warm; but my master's face looked sad and anxious, and despite the fire, he was shivering.

'Are you feeling any better?' I asked.

'Better than I was, lad,' he told me, his voice weak and tremulous. 'But I've not much appet.i.te and I hardly managed a wink of shut-eye last night . . . When I did doze off, it was straight into the same terrible nightmare. I wonder if I'll ever get a good night's sleep again.'

'At least you're safe now,' I told him. 'I really thought you were dead.'

It was the first time we'd had a chance to talk properly since I left him in the library at Mistress Fresque's house, and I quickly related all that had happened a including my conversation with what I thought was his head.

'I thought the same, lad a that it had really happened. I felt terrible pain as they cut off my head, and then I was confined in that box. I was choking, fighting for breath. It was just about the worst experience I can remember in all my long years of fighting the dark.

'Then I was in the pit, and I realized I still had my head on my shoulders. I should have been relieved, but having my blood taken was almost as bad. After the initial bite there wasn't much pain, but it was terrible to be in the grip of that hideous creature and feel so utterly powerless and weak a to feel the labouring of my heart as the life was drained from my body.'

The Spook closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing. 'I thought that by binding the Fiend we'd seriously weakened the dark, but it seems resilient. It's as strong as ever a maybe more so. On the Isle of Mona we put an end to Bony Lizzie, then, in Ireland, stopped the goat mages raising Pan, as well as cutting off the Fiend's head. But there's always something else to take the place of those we defeat. And now it's the Romanian ent.i.ties threatening the County.

'Still, it seems to me that you've acquitted yourself well, lad. I'm proud of you. You've proved yourself to be the best apprentice I've ever had a though I'd better not let Judd Brinscall hear me saying that,' he said with a smile.

By now I was smiling from ear to ear: it was a rare thing to receive praise from my master.

In response to my delight, he frowned. 'Don't let my words go to your head, lad a you still have a long way to go. Now listen carefully a we can do a few things to increase our chances of survival!'

I wiped the grin off my face and nodded.

'An attack by daemons and witches will almost certainly come at night a we have the daylight hours before the first threat appears. Go down into the village, lad, and get the blacksmith to make up three staffs with retractable silver-alloy blades a one for you, one for me and one for Judd. Tell him it's urgent and you'll collect them before nightfall. If I'm going to die, I want to go down fighting! Then you can pay a visit to the grocer, the baker and the butcher and bring back our usual food order.

'And there's one other thing you can do. It's a long shot, but it's worth attempting. Remember the boggart? Track it down, and then try to persuade it to come back. Make a new pact with it.'

When still a young man, my master had made a bargain with the boggart that Judd and I had talked about on our journey to Todmorden; the pact had endured only so long as the house had a roof. So the fire had freed it.

'How will I find it?' I asked.

'With difficulty, lad, but it won't have gone far. You need to check down the ley-lines. My hunch tells me that it will have taken the one that runs north to south. No one has asked me to deal with a boggart, so my guess is that it's holed up in some abandoned building south of here a or maybe somewhere people tolerate it. Who knows, lad a it could be making breakfast for somebody else by now! Follow the line and find out. It might even have gone back to the old wood-mill where I first encountered it. Boggarts are creatures of habit and often return to where they were once comfortable.'

Leys were invisible lines of power along which boggarts moved from one place to another. The Spook could well be right. He said 'guess', but his instincts were often correct.

'Do you think you can follow the line without a map?' he asked me. 'Or would you like me to sketch it out for you?'

The Spook's maps had been destroyed in the fire, but I'd walked that ley with my master twice before. 'I can remember the route,' I told him.

'Did you ever read the account in my Bestiary about how I made the pact with the boggart?'

'I skimmed it once but didn't read it carefully,' I admitted.

'You do too much skimming and not enough careful reading, lad. It's one of your faults! Well, read it now. It might help,' he said, handing the book to me.

I quickly turned to the section on boggarts. There are four stages in dealing with a boggart: negotiation, intimidation, binding and slaying, and the first of these had eventually proved successful with this boggart. After a few early difficulties, with my master receiving a tremendous blow to the head and scratches to his cheek, he had finally come to an agreement with it. I read the terms of the contract very carefully: The following night I entered the kitchen with some trepidation and spoke to the invisible boggart.

'Your reward shall be my garden!' I called out. 'In addition to cooking, washing, cleaning and tidying you will also guard the house and garden, keeping at bay all threats and dangers.'