What was below a a cellar? Is that where she'd gone each time she'd left us? Did the bell ring somewhere down there?

I began to descend the steps, the sword in my right hand, the candle held aloft in my left. I had switched them because the staircase curved away widdershins, in an anti-clockwise direction, and this way I had more room to deploy the blade. I was counting the steps, and realized that the cellar must be very deep. My count had already reached forty when they straightened out, and I saw below me what looked like the cellar floor. After two more steps I came to a halt. In the small pool of yellow light cast by the candle I could see bones scattered across the floor. One glance told me that they were human; some were covered in blood. I could see a skull and part of a forearm amongst the other fragments. This was the lair of creatures who fed on the blood and flesh of humans. I wondered if any of these bones belonged to my master.

I suddenly realized that there could well be another creature like the one I'd slain. Perhaps Mistress Fresque was waiting down here in the darkness, ready to leap on me.

Then I heard a noise, and a cold gust of wind blew out the candle again. I waited, hardly breathing, and put the stub in my breeches pocket. Then I gripped my sword with both hands and went into a crouch, ready to defend myself. The blade began to glow once more, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness I saw red points of light moving towards me. There were a dozen or more. I heard a low growl to my right; another directly ahead. I began to tremble, and the ruby-red light from the sword quickly faded. There were eyes a too many eyes! How many of the creatures were there?

In a panic, I turned and ran up the steps, away from the threat. I blundered across the library, crashing into shelves, feeling rotten wood crunching beneath my boots. My terror intensified when I couldn't find the door, but the light from the sword flared briefly, showing me the way. I hurried along the pa.s.sage and out of the house.

Once on the path, I started running. Once again I heard noises, as if some large creature was keeping pace with me. That made me run even faster, and soon I'd left Bent Lane behind and was sprinting through the deserted streets.

I didn't stop until I'd crossed the bridge. Even then I didn't feel safe, and after I'd got my breath back I walked on until I'd left Todmorden behind. And as I walked I thought of Judd. What was his part in all this? He had visited Chipenden to hasten our visit to Todmorden. Surely he must have known what he was leading us into. I felt bitter and angry. Was he another of the Spook's apprentices who had gone to the dark?

Then, on the edge of the moors, I sheathed the sword, crawled under a hawthorn hedge and, completely exhausted, fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

I awoke to find that the sun was already high in the sky. My mouth was dry and my limbs ached, but the worst thing was my sense of shame. I had run from the threat in the cellar. No a not just run: I had fled in a cowardly panic. I'd been a spook's apprentice for more than three years now, but I couldn't recall another occasion when I'd behaved so shamefully. I'd faced terrible things from the dark and somehow found the courage to stand and fight. So what had been different this time? All I could think of was that the years of fear, fighting the dark and being in continual danger had finally taken its toll. What if I'd lost my courage? How then could I function as a spook?

And there was something even worse to face. What if my master was still alive? I'd abandoned him. He deserved better than that a much better. I got to my feet and began to walk slowly back towards Todmorden. This time I would stand and fight.

IT WAS ALMOST noon, but there were no hawkers or market stalls; few people were about on the west side of the town. As I walked through the narrow streets, I counted no more than half a dozen, and the last of these, the old gentleman with the stick we'd spoken to before, hobbled across to the other side of the street to avoid me. Then, as I approached the river, I saw Mr Benson sitting on his cart amongst the trees, some distance from the bridge.

'Where are these books of yours?' he demanded. 'I haven't got all day. They should be piled up here, ready to load onto the cart. My horses are getting nervous.'

For a moment I considered asking him to wait in case my master was hurt and needed a ride, but I saw that it was a waste of time. The two horses were rolling their eyes and sweating excessively. I had to do this alone.

'I'm sorry,' I told him, 'but there won't be any books to carry today a here's something for your trouble.'

I reached into my breeches pocket, pulled out a few coins and held them up to him.

'Is that all?' he asked angrily, s.n.a.t.c.hing them from my hand. 'It's hardly worth getting out of bed for that!' He whipped the horses twice, brought the cart round and headed off without so much as a backward glance.

I headed for the river, but when I came to the dilapidated wooden bridge, a tremor of fear ran through me. On the other side, the servants of the dark lay in wait for me, and judging by the glowing eyes in the cellar there were a lot of them a far too many for me to face alone. But it had to be done. I had to find out what had happened to my master or I wouldn't be able to live with myself.

I took one step, and then another. I kept putting one foot in front of the other until I was standing on the eastern bank of the river. It was daylight, I told myself, and the sun was shining. My enemies would have to take refuge in darkness, somewhere underground. I would be safe unless I left behind the light of the sun. But wasn't that exactly what I would have to do? I needed to find the Spook. At some point I would have to search the cellar.

I began to climb up Bent Lane towards the house of Mistress Fresque. As I walked, I remembered something else a another failure, a further dereliction of duty. When I fled the house I should have taken the Doomdryte with me and destroyed it. It was something that my master would certainly have done. I could imagine him now, telling me off for making that mistake. Would I ever hear his voice again? I wondered.

It was gloomy beneath the trees, but this time I could hear nothing following me. When I saw the house, I realized that the door was no longer hanging open. I stepped round the tree, drew the Destiny Blade and rapped upon it with the hilt.

Almost immediately I heard footsteps approaching. The door opened and Mistress Fresque stood there, pointing at my sword with a frown on her face.

'Put that away!' she commanded. 'You will not need that while I am at your side.'

When I hesitated, a smile came to her lips but her eyes were hard. She was still young and pretty, but now there was an imperiousness to her manner a something she had hidden previously. 'Trust me,' she said, her voice softening a little. 'I bid you enter. This time when you enter freely across the threshold of my home you will be under my protection.'

What was I to do? Although she was an attractive young woman, I knew that she must be allied with dark forces. One part of me wanted to push her aside and force myself into her house; the other thought it more prudent to accept her offer of safe conduct. By so doing, I might find answers to the questions that were spinning around inside my head.

When I had sheathed my sword, the smile spread to her eyes. 'Enter freely and be safe!' She stepped aside to allow me to cross the threshold. 'Follow me,' she said, leading me down the pa.s.sage towards the library. The wainscot was now clean and shining and the house smelled sweet and wholesome. The library was once again as I had first seen it with the Spook, the shelves orderly and filled with books. And our selection of volumes lay on the table once more. Some type of extremely powerful dark magic was at work here.

But there was one change to the room that made me halt just inside the doorway. In the middle of the floor lay a skeleton. The bones were yellow-brown and old and the head was missing. I glanced to my right and saw a skull lying beside the bookcase to my right. My broken staff was beside it. These must be the remains of the creature I had slain.

'That was my partner,' said Mistress Fresque, gesturing towards the skeleton. 'We lived together happily for many years until you encountered him last night!'

'I'm sorry that you lost him,' I said, keeping my voice even. 'But it was him or me. And I think he killed my master, John Gregory.'

'He would indeed have killed you, but you are wrong to think that he is no more. I did not lose him a merely the body that he had inhabited for many years. He will soon find another host a I hope it is to my taste!' she said with a smile. 'Then, in revenge for what you did, he will come looking for you, wanting to take your head.'

'What kind of creatures are you?' I asked.

'I am a strigoica,' she replied, 'the female of our kind. My partner is a strigoi. We are from the Romanian province of Transylvania, which means, "The land beyond the forest". We are daemons.'

'Where is Judd Brinscall?' I asked. 'What part has he played in all this? When did he start to serve the dark?'

'Do not concern yourself with him. He is close to death now. His life can be measured in nights or maybe even hours.'

'Is that his reward for betraying us?'

Mistress Fresque frowned and tightened her lips. It was clear that she would not answer. So, despite my anxiety about the Spook, I remained calm and asked another question, determined to learn all I could, gathering knowledge just as my master would have done.

'Why did you come here?' I demanded.

'There are many reasons for that, but we have kept ourselves to ourselves and lived here in happiness for some time, causing as little disruption as possible. Then I was ordered to lure you and your master to this place.'

'Ordered? Who told you to do that?'

'I cannot say. There are many from Romania who now dwell here. Most have arrived very recently. Some are very powerful and I have no choice but to obey them. They can call upon a terrible being that could obliterate me in an instant.'

'Why were we tricked into coming here? So you could kill us? You've killed my master and now it's my turn!' I cried, reaching for my sword.

'Draw that blade and you will no longer be under my protection!' snapped Mistress Fresque. 'Your master is not dead but in desperate need of your help. Calm yourself and I'll take you to see him.'

I relinquished the hilt of my sword and nodded. The strigoica pointed to the door that led to the cellar steps. 'He's down there,' she said, walking towards it.

She opened the door and, very cautiously, I followed her into the small room. A lot had changed since the previous night. The steps were clean and the walls were painted green and free of cobwebs. There were torches in brackets set at frequent intervals so our descent was well-lit. Had the Spook been down here last night, trapped in the darkness and surrounded by creatures from the dark? I wondered. I could have stayed and helped him, but instead I had panicked and run. I was ashamed of my behaviour and found it hard to explain. A lump came to my throat as I remembered the curse of the Pendle witches, which had once been used against the Spook: You will die in a dark place far underground, with no friend at your side!

We reached the stone flags of the cellar. The only piece of furniture I could see was a wooden table, upon which stood a large black box with a hinged lid. Embossed in silver upon that lid was the image of a creature that I immediately recognized. I grew cold at the sight of it.

It was a skelt. But why was its head depicted on the box? It made me think of the Doomdryte's cover, and the hilt of my sword.

I shuddered. There was something ominous about it, and my heart began to bang in my chest. Mistress Fresque walked straight up to it and lifted the lid.

'Here is your master,' she said.

Within the box lay the head of the Spook.

MY HEART SANK into my boots and a flood of grief washed over me. I was too shocked to reply. I felt numb, unable to accept what I was seeing. The strigoica had lied. They had killed my master.

'He can still speak,' she said, 'but he is in agony and no doubt constantly prays for release. Why don't you ask him?'

No sooner had she said this than the Spook's eyelids twitched and he stared up at me. His mouth opened and he tried to speak, but he could only croak, and a dribble of blood ran down his chin. An expression of pain flickered across his face and he closed his eyes again.

'This has been done in revenge for what you and your allies did to the Fiend,' Mistress Fresque said. 'Your master will have no peace until you do what we require. To free his soul his head must be burned. I am willing to give it to you a but first you must bring me the head of the Fiend.'

The Spook groaned and opened his eyes again. He murmured something unintelligible, so I bent forward so that my right ear was close to his lips.

He seemed to choke, his eyes rolling in his head, then cleared his throat and struggled to speak again. 'Help me, lad!' he croaked. 'Get me free of this. This is unbearable a worse than death. I'm in pain. I'm in terrible pain. Please set me free!'

The world spun about me. Overwhelmed by grief, I almost fell.

'Can you bear to allow your master to remain in this pitiful state for a moment longer than is necessary?' Mistress Fresque demanded. 'We know of the witch who carries the Fiend's head. Her name is Grimalkin. Summon her. Lure her to this place and, in exchange, you will be permitted to release your master from his torment.'

I felt sick to my stomach at what I was being asked to do. In order to destroy the Fiend I was being asked to sacrifice Alice; now his supporters wanted me to bring about the death of Grimalkin, another of my allies. But betraying Grimalkin was only the first of the consequences of returning the Fiend's head to his servants. They would take it back to Ireland and reunite it with the body, freeing him from the pit at Kenmare. He would come for me and Alice, and s.n.a.t.c.h us away into the dark, dead or alive. The prospect terrified me, but my duty was clear in any case: it was owed to the people of the County. I could not allow the Fiend to return to the earth a which would soon become a darker and more desperate place. No, I could not do it. But I could seize my master's head by force and give him peace.

I drew the sword.

Instantly a freezing wind gusted into the cellar and all the torches were extinguished. Out of the darkness I saw eyes staring at me. Each pair glowed red, as they had the previous night a but this time there were even more, and I heard threatening growls and noises that sounded like claws on the flags. I spun round, ready to defend myself, but saw that I was surrounded. Where had they come from? I wondered.

I was afraid. There were too many of them. What chance did I have against such odds?

'It is not too late!' Mistress Fresque hissed at me from the darkness. 'Put away the sword immediately and you will be under my protection once more.'

With trembling hands I tried to sheathe the Destiny Blade. It took me three attempts to return it to its scabbard, but when I had done so, the red eyes faded, the scratching ceased, and the torches flared and filled the cellar with yellow light once more.

'Another second and it would have been too late,' Mistress Fresque told me, closing the lid of the box and turning to leave. 'Follow me. Now that you have drawn your sword it isn't safe for you to spend too much time below ground. My protection is limited.'

She led the way back up the steps and into the library. 'Do not delay in summoning the witch a.s.sa.s.sin,' she warned me. 'We offer to release your master's head in exchange for that of the Fiend, but it must be done soon. Every day you delay his torment will be increased. We can inflict unimaginable pain upon him.'

'Where is the remainder of him?' I asked, feeling cold inside at the thought of what had been done to my master. 'I would like to bury his body.'

I knew I'd have to burn the head to release his sprit from the dark magic used, but burying the rest of him would make me feel better. The Church wouldn't allow a spook to be put to rest in hallowed ground, but I might find a sympathetic priest to say a few words and allow my master to be buried close to a graveyard. But even that hope was quickly dashed.

'That is not possible,' Mistress Fresque said coldly. 'The rest of his body was not needed for our purposes so we fed it to a moroi. They are extremely hungry elemental spirits which have to be appeased.'

Disgusted and angry, I turned on my heel and left the house without another word. I headed for the riverbank, crossed the bridge and sat down under the trees to think things through and consider my options.

The thought of my master suffering like that was unbearable a he was enduring such terrible pain. However, my duty was clear: I had to leave him for now. How could I possibly deceive Grimalkin and lure her here, allowing the Fiend's head to fall into the hands of the strigoica and her allies? It must be kept away from them; I had to use the time to find a way to destroy him for ever.

I don't know how long I sat there, pondering my limited options, but at one point I wept for the Spook, who had served the County well and suffered much to protect it. He had also been more than a master to me; he had become my friend. He deserved a better end to his life. I'd hoped that as I completed my apprenticeship, he would start to reduce his own workload while I took a greater part of the burden until he finally retired. Now our future together had been s.n.a.t.c.hed away. I was alone, and it was both a sad and a scary feeling.

Eventually I came to a decision and walked back to the tavern. I went up to my room and from the Spook's bag I took a small piece of cheese and enough money to pay the landlord. I left both bags in my room, locked it and went downstairs.

He scowled when I approached, but soon brightened when I dropped a silver coin into his palm.

'That's for two more nights,' I told him.

'Did you find your master?' he asked.

I didn't reply, but as I walked away he called after me, 'If he's not back by now he must be dead, boy. You'll end up the same way if you don't go home!'

I headed back to the bridge, nibbled at the cheese and washed it down with a few mouthfuls of cold river water. I thought about Mistress Fresque's house. How could it be clean and orderly during the day, with its library full of books, but a dilapidated ruin at night? Some type of powerful dark magic was being used here a a spell of illusion.

So what was the truth about that house a its day-time and night-time condition? Spooks had to develop and trust their instincts, and mine told me that its ruinous condition at night was its true state.

What would my master advise me to do? I asked myself. Instantly I knew. He would advise me to be bold and act like a spook! I would put my fears behind me. I could take back my master's head by force and thus give him the peace he deserved. I had the Destiny Blade, and I was determined to use it. I would clean out that vile cellar and kill all the creatures of the dark within it. And I would attack at night when things were as they seemed.

It was time to stop being afraid. Now I would become the hunter.

SOON AFTER DARK I began to climb Bent Lane once more. As I walked, I pondered on what I was facing. The Spook's Bestiary was back at Chipenden a it would be the first book to be placed in the new library a so I could not use it as a reference source. Desperately I dredged my mind for what I had read about Romanian creatures of the dark.

Strigoii and strigoica were daemons, male and female respectively. They worked and lived in pairs. The male possessed the body of a dead person and had to spend the daylight hours hidden from sunlight, which could destroy him. The other, the female, possessed the body of a living person and was on guard during the day. No doubt Mistress Fresque had once been a nice ordinary young woman, but now her body had been taken over by a malevolent creature of the dark. I had decapitated her partner, but she'd said that wasn't the end of him. Normally slaying a daemon with a silver-alloy blade would bring about its destruction, but these Romanians seemed very powerful. I had seen the strigoi leave its dead host; now it would be searching for another. Once it had found one, it would seek me out. How could I put a permanent end to it? I wondered. There were far too many unknowns here.

There was something else that was even more worrying. Mistress Fresque had said that she had been ordered to lure us to this place a commanded by others who could summon a being so powerful that it could 'obliterate her in an instant'. What could that be? Had there been anything about such an ent.i.ty in the Spook's Bestiary? I could not recall anything. Romania had seemed so far away, and I could not believe that its denizens of the dark posed much of a threat. Consequently I had read the entries fast a skimming the information rather than absorbing it properly for future use. I shook my head, annoyed with myself. From now on I must become more thorough, and think and act like a spook rather than an apprentice.

Now I was approaching the dark tunnel of trees once more. I hadn't taken more than a dozen paces along the path when I heard those disturbing noises to my right.

I stopped, and whatever it was stopped too, but I could still hear slow heavy breathing. I had a choice: either I could continue along the path until I reached the front door of the strigoica's residence, or I could stop and deal with this creature once and for all.

Without delay, I drew my sword. Instantly the ruby eyes of the Destiny Blade began to glow red, illuminating what I faced. A huge bear was lumbering towards me on all fours. All at once it stood up on its hind legs, towering over me, and for the first time I saw its claws clearly. They resembled long curved daggers and looked razor-sharp, capable of tearing human flesh to shreds. The bear was immensely powerful and could no doubt crush the life out of me in seconds. It opened its mouth wide and roared, saliva dripping from its teeth, the stench of its hot breath washing over me. I raised the sword, ready to meet its advance.

Then, suddenly, I had another idea.

I retreated three steps, until I was standing on the path once more. Instantly the bear dropped back onto all fours. It regarded me intently but did not attack. I remembered the warning I'd been given a not to stray from the path because of bears. So was I safe if I remained on the path? I wondered.

I sheathed the sword and began to walk towards the house again. The bear followed but made no move to attack me. It must be some sort of guardian, patrolling the grounds of the house for Mistress Fresque, just as the Spook's boggart had once guarded his garden at Chipenden. And then a word dropped into my head: moroi!

Mistress Fresque had told me that they'd fed the Spook's body to a moroi. I vaguely remembered reading about them in my master's Bestiary. They were vampiric elemental spirits that sometimes lived inside hollow trees. But they could possess animals a bears being their favourite host. They hunted humans and crushed them to death before dragging them back to their lair. Direct sunlight could destroy them, so they weren't seen abroad during daylight hours. Then I remembered something else: a moroi was often controlled by a strigoi and strigoica. So my guess had been correct. Mistress Fresque was using the elemental as a guard.

But why didn't it attack those who used the path? The answer came to me in a flash of insight. It was because the path itself didn't need guarding. Anyone using the path would be instantly known to those within the house. And it provided a safe route for anyone who was welcome there.

I realized that there was no need to fight the moroi. I had numerous other enemies waiting for me inside the house. I'd be safe as long as I stuck to the path, so I might as well save my strength. I hurried on, and as I neared the house I heard the bear move off into the trees.

The door was open so I drew my sword and stepped inside. I didn't bother with my tinderbox and candle this time a I was ready to face my enemies. My courage was high, and that was enough to cause the ruby eyes of the Destiny Blade to flicker into life, then cast a red beam to illuminate the pa.s.sage.

I pa.s.sed through the second doorway, expecting to see the dilapidated library empty of books and curtained with cobwebs. Instead, dozens of red orbs gleamed in the darkness.

For a second I thought they were pairs of eyes a creatures of the dark preparing to attack. But then I realized that I was staring at reflections of myself a or rather, of the ruby eyes of the sword hilt. Gone was the library; I was in a hall of mirrors, each set within an ornate iron frame and at least three times my size.

I took a careful step into the chamber, and then another. The mirrors all faced me, set one behind the other like a pack of cards spread out against the walls on either side. At first they all reflected my image in the same way. I was looking at a young man wearing the hooded gown of a spook's apprentice, but instead of holding the customary staff, crouching down with a sword held in both hands, ready to attack.

Then, as I watched, the surfaces of the mirrors flickered and the images began to change. Now cruel, hostile faces peered out at me as if about to leap out and devour me on the spot. Some seemed to be chanting; others opened their mouths as if uttering b.e.s.t.i.a.l growls. But they were merely images and the atrium was absolutely silent. Then I did hear a noise, and I whirled round, expecting to see some dangerous creature, but it was just a mouse that twitched its tail and scurried off into the darkness.

I turned back to face the mirrors, took a deep breath and studied the images. There were fierce women, their hair tangled with thorns; grim, cadaverous faces; things that had surely crawled straight out of the tomb. Were they strigoica? If so, why had they not chosen younger hosts like Mistress Fresque? All had one thing in common a their lips were red with blood. I wondered if they were some other type of dark creature. They reminded me of witches.

One thing I was sure of: I was no longer afraid. I was angry! Fearsome eyes had peered at me from mirrors before. I only wished that the ones here had substance so that I could strike them down with my blade. I did the next best thing a it achieved little but gave vent to my fury and made me feel better.

I laid about me with my sword, stepping forward and twisting left, right, and left again, to smash each mirror as I pa.s.sed. There was the crash and a tinkle of breaking gla.s.s, shards of it exploding upwards to fall like silver at my feet; each glittering image was replaced by darkness. Soon the last mirror was shattered, and still the ruby eyes of the Destiny Blade glowed red. But when I stepped beyond the dark empty frame of that final mirror, I was filled with dismay.

Instead of the door that opened onto the cellar steps there was just a blank wall. I had been prepared to fight my way down there to release my master from his torment. If necessary, I would have given my life to do so.