'No, Alice! Don't even think of it. There must be something else we can do!'

'But what if there isn't, Tom? Grimalkin can't keep the Fiend's head out of the hands of our enemies for ever. They'll never give up. Everywhere we go is dangerous because they're always at our heels. They waited for us here, didn't they? And eventually the Fiend will return with all his power. We'll be s.n.a.t.c.hed away into the dark for an eternity of torment. At least this way only one of us has to go. I have to venture into the dark whatever the cost. And I'll be coming back. Ain't going to stay there for ever, am I?'

'No, you can't go into the dark,' I insisted. 'I won't let you.'

'It's my decision, Tom, not yours. There's still more than five months till Halloween, but the sooner I get that dagger, the better.'

'You can't go back there, Alice!' I cried. 'Remember what it did to you last time.'

'That was different, Tom. I was s.n.a.t.c.hed away by the Fiend. Well, he ain't there now, and the dark is weakened because of it. And I've a lot of power of my own. I can look after myself, don't you worry!'

I didn't reply. Even if Alice succeeded, she would only have moved things nearer to the point where she was supposed to die. Mam's second letter was in my pocket, and there it would stay.

We stayed in the tower for the remainder of the daylight hours, planning to leave after dark, when it would be easier to slip away unseen.

While Alice went down into the tunnel to pay another visit to Agnes, I had a short conversation with Slake. In her presence I read through the remainder of Mam's letter and was able to question her about things that were unclear. The more I learned, the worse it got. By the end of our discussion I was close to despair.

At last it was time to leave. While Alice waited for me, I turned to the lamia. 'I may never return here,' I told her. 'You are free to go.'

'It is not for you to dismiss me,' Slake hissed. 'I will stay here until after Halloween. Then, when the Fiend has been dealt with, I will burn the trunks and leave to seek out others of my kind.'

'And if he is not dealt with?'

'Then it will go badly for all of us. If you fail, the consequences do not bear thinking about. You must do what is required.'

'It is not for you to tell me what to do!' I retorted. 'I make my own decisions. However, you have my grat.i.tude. If ever you need my help, call me and I will stand at your side.'

As we left the lamia, Alice stared at me in astonishment. I knew why: those final words had flown out of my mouth without thought, but I realized that I meant every word. That night on Pendle Hill, when the Fiend had been summoned by the covens, Slake and her sister had fought to save us. We would have died there but for their intervention. Here, guarding the tower, Wynde had been lost. And although it was difficult to accept, she was distant kin a a descendant of Mam's a so I owed her no less than what had been promised.

'Do you know what I think, Tom?' Alice said as we began to descend the steps. 'You talked about your mam having changed, but you've changed too. You made that promise to Slake without any thought of what Old Gregory might say. You're more of a spook than he is now.'

I made no reply. It saddened me to think of my master in decline, but I knew that Alice was right. As he had told me the previous day, I needed to act and think like the spook that I would become. We were heading into an uncertain future, but things were approaching a climax. Soon, for good or ill, it would be over.

Agnes was waiting for us near the exit of the tunnel. There were flies buzzing about her head and dried streaks of blood around her mouth. She smelled of loam and things that slithered underground.

'We're going back to Chipenden,' Alice told the dead witch. 'I'll come back and see you when I can.'

Agnes nodded, and a grey maggot fell out of her hair and writhed at her feet. 'Come and see me in the dell when your need is great. You too, Thomas Ward. You also have a friend amongst the dead.'

Alice gave the witch an affectionate pat on the shoulder and we crept along the tunnel cautiously, emerging through the sepulchre to stand amongst the thickets that covered the graveyard.

Alice sniffed three times. 'There are half a dozen witches here but they're all dead. Agnes has been busy!'

So we hurried north, then west, skirting the edge of Pendle to head directly for Chipenden. Agnes was our ally and friend, but I noticed that Alice had not bothered to tell her about her journey into the dark. Dead witches changed, moving away from human concerns, and Agnes was no longer someone Alice could confide in.

AS WE CROSSED the Spook's garden, the dogs raced towards us, barking excitedly, and I had to spend a few minutes patting them and being licked in return. I thought the disturbance would have brought my master out to greet us, but there was no sign of him. Was there something wrong? I wondered. Had he gone off on spook's business?

But then I saw the smoke rising from the kitchen chimney and was rea.s.sured. When I led the way inside, I saw a stranger sitting by the fire talking to John Gregory. Both men rose to their feet and turned to face me.

'This is Tom Ward, my apprentice,' said the Spook. 'And that's the girl, Alice, who I've been telling you about. And this is Judd Brinscall, lad, one of my ex-apprentices. He's come all the way from Todmorden to escort us back there.'

'Mistress Fresque is a friend of mine, Tom,' Judd said with a smile. 'She's a Romanian, but now lives in Todmorden, and she sent me to find out what's delayed your master's visit to her library.' Judd Brinscall was shorter than my master and slight of build. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, but his face was lined and weather-beaten, suggesting that he had spent most of his life outdoors. His blond hair was starting to recede, but his eyebrows were black, making a strange contrast. He wore the hood and gown of a spook, but unlike ours, his was green with streaks of brown and yellow.

I remembered his name because it was amongst the most prominent ones scratched upon my bedroom wall here at Chipenden a the room used by all the boys my master had trained.

'You're staring at my gown,' he said with a faint smile. 'Once I wore one almost identical to yours, Tom. But there's a reason for it. When I'd finished my time here with Mr Gregory, he offered to let me work with him for a couple more years to develop my skills as a spook further. That would have been the sensible thing to do, but I'd endured five long years learning my trade in the County and I had the wanderl.u.s.t. I needed to visit new places while I was still young a particularly Romania, the land my mother's family come from.

'I travelled far, crossed the sea and eventually ended up there. I spent two years studying under one of the local spooks in the province of Transylvania and subst.i.tuted this gown for my own. It provides necessary camouflage when journeying through the forest.'

'Well, lad,' interrupted the Spook, turning to me, his face filled with concern. 'How did things go at Malkin Tower? Sit yourself down and tell me all about it.'

So, while Alice remained standing, I took my place at the table and began my tale. At first I was hesitant, feeling a little uncomfortable about revealing so much in front of a stranger.

My master must have noticed my disquiet. 'Spit it out, lad! You needn't clam up in front of Judd here. We go back a long way.'

So I told my master part of what I had learned a though nothing of the ritual itself, which he would not have countenanced. I told the same lie I'd given Alice a pretended that the next course of action would be revealed only when all three hero swords were in my possession. And, of course, I did not reveal the worst thing of all a that I must sacrifice Alice to achieve our aims.

It saddened me to lie by omission in that way, but perhaps not as much as it might once have done. I was becoming harder, and I knew that what I did was for the best. A great burden of responsibility was being thrust upon my shoulders and I had to learn to bear it alone.

When I'd finished, both spooks stared hard at Alice. 'Well, girl?' asked my master. 'It's asking a lot, but are you prepared to attempt what's required? Will you go back into the dark?'

'There's got to be another way!' I said angrily. 'We can't ask Alice to do this.'

Neither spook said a word; both cast their eyes down and stared at the table. Their silence said everything. I felt bitter. Alice was nothing to them. Judd Brinscall had only just met her, and my master had never learned to trust her, despite what she'd been through with us; despite all those times she'd saved our lives.

'I'll do what's necessary,' Alice said in a quiet voice, 'but I want to be sure that it's the only way. I need time to think. And I need to talk to Grimalkin. She ain't that far away, so I'll go and find her. I shouldn't be away more than a few days.'

The next morning Alice headed north to find the witch a.s.sa.s.sin. I gave her a hug at the edge of the garden.

'Whatever you decide, Alice, don't go off into the dark until we've spoken again. Do you promise?'

'I promise, Tom. Wouldn't go without saying goodbye, would I?'

I watched her walk off into the distance, my throat constricting with emotion.

Within the hour, after leaving the three dogs in the care of the village blacksmith, my master, Judd Brinscall and I had departed too. Although he'd cried off from the journey to Pendle, the Spook seemed happy enough to head for Todmorden. His knees were feeling better and his stride showed its usual energy. As we walked, the three of us talked.

'Do you know what I miss about the old house?' Judd said.

'For me, it's the roof and the library,' the Spook joked, 'and it gladdens my heart to see that both are being attended to!'

'Well, I miss the boggart!' exclaimed Judd. 'It might have burned the bacon occasionally, but it always did the washing-up and kept the garden safe from intruders. It scared me at first but eventually I grew quite fond of it.'

'It scared me too,' I said. 'It gave me a clout behind the ear when I came down to breakfast too early on my first day. But my memories of it are mostly good.'

'Aye,' my master agreed. 'It warned us of danger and saved our lives on more than one occasion. It will certainly be missed.'

We broke our journey in the village of Oswaldtwistle, the Spook leading us directly to its one and only tavern, the Grey Man.

'Money might be short at present but my old bones are begging for a warm bed tonight, lad,' he told me.

'I can pay for our accommodation,' Judd said. 'I know you've had a hard time of it.'

'Nay, Judd, put your money away a I won't hear of it.'

Our finances were limited because my master needed most of what he had recently acc.u.mulated to pay for the repairs to his house. Whenever he did a job, he often had to wait to be paid; sometimes until after the next harvest. That he was willing to pay for rooms now showed how weary he must still be feeling. During the last couple of years our struggles against the dark had taken a lot out of him. But he was proud as well, and wouldn't let an ex-apprentice pay for his lodgings.

A few locals sat gossiping in the corner by the huge fire, sipping ale from pint tankards, but we were the only diners. We tucked into huge plates of beef and roasted potatoes swimming in delicious gravy.

I looked at the Spook. 'You said your work had never taken you to Todmorden, so I wonder how Mistress Fresque knew about your library and what happened to it . . . Did you tell her, Judd?' I asked.

'Aye, that I did. I've not been back in the County for more than a few weeks. I wanted to return months ago, but it was still occupied by enemy troops. As soon as I arrived, I looked up Cosmina Fresque, an old friend from Romania, who kindly provided me with a roof over my head while I found my feet. She said she had some books to sell a so, of course, I told her about you. She travelled to Chipenden herself, and en route found out about the sad loss of your library.'

'She should have visited us rather than just leaving a note,' said the Spook.

'She didn't want to disturb you when you were busy with all the rebuilding,' Judd explained.

'She'd have been very welcome,' my master said. 'You too, Judd. Why didn't you bring her up to the house?'

'As much as I'd have loved to visit, I can't afford to pa.s.s up the chance of paid work. There was a boggart to be dealt with just over the County border, so duty called!'

'It's an unusual name, Todmorden,' I commented. 'I wonder where it came from. Does it mean anything?'

'All names mean something,' said the Spook. 'It's just that some are so old that their origins have long been forgotten. Some say the name is derived from two words from the Old Tongue: tod, which means death, and mor a which also means death!'

'But others dispute that,' Judd said. 'They claim the name means the Valley of the Marsh Fox.'

The Spook smiled. 'Human memory is fallible and the truth is sometimes lost for ever, lad.'

'Was your dad from the County, Judd?' I asked.

'That he was, Tom, but he died in the first year of my apprenticeship, and then my mother returned to Romania to be with her family there.'

I nodded in understanding. My own dad had died during the first year of my apprenticeship and my mam had gone back to Greece. We'd endured similar things and I knew how he felt.

I'd previously met three of my master's ex-apprentices. All of them were dead now. First there was Morgan, who'd served the dark and had been killed by Golgoth, one of the Old G.o.ds. Secondly, there'd been Father Stocks, murdered by the witch Wurmalde. Most recently, in Greece, Bill Arkwright had died fighting a heroic rearguard action while we made our escape.

I'd hated Morgan, who'd been a bully, but had grown to like Father Stocks a and even Bill eventually, though he'd given me a difficult time at first. And now I felt the same way about Judd. He seemed an amiable man. The life of a spook could be very lonely. I hoped that I was about to make a new friend.

The next day we strode east across the moors until late in the afternoon. Then, after we'd pa.s.sed through another small village, three steep-sided valleys came into view below us. In the middle lay the small town of Todmorden. I saw that it was hemmed in by dense woods which extended up the slopes. The Spook had told me that the place had a river running through it; the far bank lay beyond the County border. There was something odd about the layout of the town though. Not only was it divided by the river but there was a swath of trees on either bank, as if n.o.body had wanted to build a house too close to the water.

'Well, I'm sorry, but this is where we part company,' Judd said.

'After coming all this way I thought you'd have been guiding us to Mistress Fresque's door and introducing us,' the Spook said, evidently surprised.

'Regretfully, I have to decline. You see, I have unfinished business across the moors to the south. It's that boggart I told you about. I drove it out of one farmhouse and it immediately made its home in another. But you'll have no trouble locating the Fresque house. Just ask anyone for Bent Lane. The mistress is expecting you.'

'What's she like, this Mistress Fresque?' asked the Spook. 'How did you come to meet her?'

'She's a kind woman, but with a good head for business and practical matters,' Judd replied. 'I'm sure you'll get along fine. I met her on my travels. She gave me my first taste of Romanian hospitality.'

'Ah, well, spook's business comes first,' said my master. 'But we hope to see you again before we leave. I expect we'll be here for one night at least.'

'Of course, I'll see you tomorrow. Give my regards to Mistress Fresque!'

Judd gave us a nod, then set off southwards, and without further ado the Spook led the way down the steep track towards the town.

The narrow cobbled streets were bustling with people going about their business. There were market stalls, and street hawkers selling food and trinkets from trays. Todmorden seemed just like any other small County town, but there was one difference: its inhabitants all looked grim-faced and unfriendly.

The first man my master sought directions from ignored him and walked straight past us, with the collar of his jacket turned up against the wind. At the second attempt he had a little more success. He approached an elderly, florid-faced gentleman who was walking along with the aid of a stick. He looked like a farmer, with his broad leather belt and big heavy boots.

'Can you please tell us the whereabouts of Bent Lane?' my master asked.

'I could a but I'm not sure if I should,' said the man. 'You see, it lies across the bridge on the other side of the river. The people over there are foreigners and best kept well clear of!' With that he nodded and continued on his way.

The Spook shook his head in disbelief. 'You wouldn't credit it, lad,' he said. 'Just a few paces across a river and you become a "foreigner"! They're just folks like us that happen to be from another county, that's all!'

We walked as far as the narrow wooden bridge, which was the only obvious point at which the river could be crossed. It was falling into disrepair a a few of the planks were missing and others were partially rotted through; it was just wide enough to accommodate a horse and cart, but only the foolhardy would risk taking one across. It seemed odd that n.o.body had thought to mend it.

From here, the part of the town on the other side of the river looked no different to the part on the County side. Beyond the trees I saw the same small stone houses and cobbled streets, though they seemed deserted. I thought we were about to cross, but the Spook pointed back to a tavern on the County side.

'Let's save ourselves some trouble, lad, and ask someone who might be able to give us precise directions. We could kill two birds with one stone by finding somewhere to spend the night.'

We entered a small tavern whose sign proclaimed its name: THE RED FOX. The room was empty, but there was a fire in the grate and a balding sour-faced man in a leather ap.r.o.n was washing pewter tankards behind the bar.

'We're looking for the house of Mistress Fresque,' said the Spook. 'I believe that she lives at the top of Bent Lane somewhere across the river. Could you be so kind as to give us directions?'

'It's on the other side of the river, all right,' said the man, not answering the question. 'And crossing the river is dangerous. Few do so from this side. You'll be the first this year.'

'Well, it's certainly in need of urgent maintenance,' said the Spook. 'But I don't think it's quite ready to fall into the river yet. Are you the innkeeper?'

The man put down the tankard he'd been drying and stared hard at the Spook for a few seconds. My master returned his gaze calmly.

'Yes, I'm the innkeeper. Do you require food and drink, or maybe a bed for the night?'

'We might need all three,' said the Spook. 'A lot depends on how our business goes.'

'Cross the bridge,' the man said at last, 'then take the third street along on your left. It leads to Bent Lane. The house of Mistress Fresque is the big one right at the end of the lane up in the woods. It's hidden by trees so you won't see it until you're very close. And stay on the path. There are bears in the vicinity.'

'Thanks for that.' The Spook turned to go. 'It may well be that we'll see you later.'

'Well, if you do require rooms, make sure you're back before sunset,' the landlord called after us. 'The doors are locked and barred then, and I'll be safe in my bed well before dark. If you have any sense, you'll follow my example.'

'WHAT KIND OF tavern shuts its doors so early?' I asked my master as we strode towards the bridge.

'It's obviously one that doesn't really welcome strangers, lad! That's clear enough.'

'I didn't think there were any bears left in the County,' I said.