I awoke at about four in the morning to find Alice looking at me across the embers. The Spook was breathing slowly and deeply, fast asleep. The hermit was in exactly the same position as before, eyes closed, head bowed — but whether he was sleeping or not was hard to tell.
'Sleep deeply, you do, Tom,' Alice said, her eyes wide and serious. 'Been staring at you hard for nearly half an hour. Most people would've woke up in two minutes.'
'I can wake up any time I choose,' I told her with a smile. 'I usually wake up if something's threatening me. But you're no threat, Alice. Did you want me to wake up? Why?'
Alice shrugged. 'Couldn't sleep and just wanted to talk, that's all,' she said.
'You all right?' I asked. 'You didn't have any supper. That's not like you.'
'Right as I'll ever be,' she answered quietly.
'You need to eat,' I said.
'Ain't eating much yourself, are you? Just a nibble of Old Gregory's mouldy cheese ain't going to put much meat on your scrawny bones.'
'We're doing it for a reason, Alice. Soon we're going to face the dark and it helps to fast. It really does. But you need something. You've had nothing at all for more than a day now.'
'Leave me be, Tom. Ain't none of your business.'
'Course it's my business. I care about you and don't want to see you get ill.'
'Doing it for a reason, I am. Ain't just a spook and his apprentice that can fast. For three days I'm going to fast too. I'm going to do what Lizzie taught me. Did it a lot when she needed to build up her power. It could be the first step towards keeping Old Nick at bay.'
'And what then, Alice? What else will you do?
Something else from the dark, is that it? Do that and you'll be no better than the enemies we face. You'll be a witch using the powers of a witch! Stop this now while you still can! And stop involving me. You heard what Mr Gregory said: the Fiend would like nothing better than to bring me over to the dark.'
'No, Tom, that ain't fair. I ain't a witch and I never will be. I'll be using the dark, that's true enough, but I'm not leading you towards the dark. I'm just doing what your mam told me to!'
'What? Mam wouldn't tell you to do that.'
'Don't know how wrong you are, Tom. Use anything! Use anything! she said. Anything you can to protect him. Don't you see, Tom? That's why I'm here — to use the dark against the dark to make sure that you survive!'
I was stunned by her words and didn't know what to say. But Alice wasn't a liar, I was sure of that. 'When did Mam tell you to do this?' I asked quietly.
'When I stayed with your family last year — when we fought off Mother Malkin together. And she's talked to me once since. When we were in Pendle during the summer, she spoke to me from a mirror. '
I stared at Alice in astonishment. I'd had no contact with Mam since early spring, when she'd left for Greece. And yet she'd spoken to Alice! And used a mirror to do so!
'What did Mam say to you, Alice? What was so urgent that she had to talk to you through a mirror?' I demanded.
'It's like I said before. Back in Pendle, it was, when the covens were getting ready to open the portal and let the Fiend into the world. Your mam said you'd be in great danger and now was the time I had to get ready to protect you. I've been doing my best to get ready ever since, but it ain't easy.'
I glanced towards the Spook, then lowered my voice. 'If the Spook finds out what you're trying to do, he'll send you away. Be careful, Alice, because it could happen. He's worried about us already because we used a mirror. Don't give him the slightest excuse, please. '
Alice nodded, and for a long time we didn't speak and just sat there gazing into the embers of the fire. After a while I noticed that the hermit was staring at me. I looked back at him and our eyes locked. He didn't even blink and I felt embarrassed, so I asked him, 'How did you learn to dowse, Mr Atkins?'
'How does a bird learn to build a nest? Or a spider spin its web? I was born with the gift, Thomas. My dad had it too and his dad before him. It tends to run in families. But it's not just a talent for finding water or missing people. It can tell you about people. About where they come from and their families. Would you like me to show you?'
I wasn't sure and didn't know what to expect, but before I could reply, the hermit stood up and walked around the fire towards me, pulling a piece of string from his pocket. He tied a small piece of crystal to it and held it above my head. It started to rotate slowly in a clockwise direction.
'You come from a good family, Thomas — that's clear enough. You have a mother and brothers who love you. Some of you have been separated but you'll all be together very soon. I see a big family occasion. A gathering of great importance.'
'That would be nice,' I said. 'My mam's away and I haven't seen four of my brothers for over three years.'
I glanced towards the Spook, grateful that he was still fast asleep. He would be annoyed that the hermit was predicting the future. By now Judd Atkins had left me and approached Alice. She flinched as he held the string above her head. It began to rotate but in the opposite direction; it was moving widdershins, against the clock.
'It pains me to say it, girl,' said the hermit, 'but you come from a bad family, a clan of witches—'
'Ain't no secret, that,' Alice said with a scowl.
'There's worse,' said the hermit. 'You'll be reunited with them soon, and with your father, who loves you very much. You are special to him. His special girl.'
Alice jumped to her feet, eyes blazing with anger. She raised her hand, and for a moment I thought she was going to scratch the hermit or strike him in the face. 'My dad's dead and buried. Been in the cold ground for years!' she snapped. 'So is that what you're saying? That I'll be dead myself soon? Ain't nice, that! Ain't a nice thing to say to anyone!'
With that she left the cave. When I turned to follow her, Judd Atkins came up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. 'Let her go, Thomas,' he said with a sad shake of his head. 'You two can't ever be together. Did you see the way the string circled differently for each of you?'
I nodded.
'Clockwise and widdershins. Light against dark. Good against evil. I saw what I saw and I'm sorry to say that it's true. Not only that — I couldn't help overhearing part of your conversation. Anyone who's prepared to use the dark like that, for whatever reason, can't be trusted. Can a lamb sit safely beside a wolf? Or a rabbit befriend a stoat? Take care or she'll drag you down with her! Let her go and find yourself another friend. It can't be Alice.'
I went after her anyway but she had disappeared into the darkness. I waited at the cave entrance until she returned about an hour before dawn. She didn't speak and flinched away when I approached. I could tell that she'd been crying.
CHAPTER 23
A witch bottle
We set off at first light while the hermit was still sleeping. The skies were clear but the air was bitterly cold as we headed north towards the Big Mere, the high snow-capped peaks of the mountains in the far distance. Despite the biting air, underfoot the frost soon began to melt and the ground to squelch.
As we crossed the river Leven by a small wooden bridge and journeyed up the western shore of the lake, the going became more difficult, the narrow path meandering through a dense forest of conifers, with steep slopes rising to our left.
We might well have been three stray sheep, judging by Claw's behaviour. She kept circling us, then bounding on ahead before returning to shepherd us from behind. It was something she'd been taught by Arkwright: she was alert for danger, checking every direction for possible threats to her little flock.
After a while I dropped back and walked with Alice. We hadn't spoken since we'd disagreed in the night.
'Are you all right, Alice?' I asked.
'Never better,' she said, a little stiffly.
'I'm sorry we argued,' I said.
'I don't mind that, Tom. I know you were only trying to do what's best.'
'We're still friends?'
'Of course.'
&n
bsp; We walked along in silence for a while until she said, 'I've got a plan, Tom. A plan to keep the Fiend away from us.'
I looked at her sharply. 'I hope this doesn't involve the dark, Alice,' I said, but she didn't answer my question.
'Do you want to hear my plan or not?'
'Go on then,' I said.
'Know what a witch bottle is?' she asked.
'I've heard of them but I don't know how they're supposed to work. The Spook doesn't believe in them.' A witch bottle was a defence against witchcraft but the Spook thought they were just something used by the superstitious and weak-minded.
'What does Old Gregory know?' Alice said scornfully. 'Do it right and it works, don't you worry. Bony Lizzie swore by 'em. When an enemy witch uses her dark powers against you, there's a way to put a stop to it. First you need some of her urine. That's the hard part but it don't have to be too much. Just a bit which you put into a bottle. Next you put bent pins, sharp stones and iron nails into the urine, cork up that old bottle and shake it well. Then you leave it in the sun for three days, and on the night of the next full moon you bury it under a dung heap.
'Then the job's as good as done. Next time she goes to the toilet she's in agony. It's just like she's weeing hot pins! All you have to do then is leave her a note telling her what you've done. In no time at all she'll take the spell off you. But you keep the bottle hidden just in case you have to use it again!'
I laughed without mirth. 'So is that what you're going to use against the Fiend, Alice?' I mocked. 'His piss and a few bent pins?'
'We've known each other quite a while, Tom, and I think that by now you know I ain't stupid. Your mam ain't stupid either. You ought to be ashamed, laughing like that. It was an ugly laugh, that. You were nice when I met you. You wouldn't have laughed at me like that then, whatever I'd said. You were too kind and well-mannered for that. Don't change, Tom, please. You need to get harder, but not like that. I'm your friend. You don't hurt your friends, no matter how scared you are.'
At those words my throat constricted so that I couldn't speak and tears welled up in my eyes. 'I'm sorry, Alice,' I said at last. 'I didn't mean it. You're right. I am scared but I shouldn't take it out on you.'
'That's all right, Tom. Don't bother yourself, but you didn't let me finish. I was going to say that I intend to use something similar. But not urine. It's blood that I'll be using. So we need to get ourselves some special blood. I don't mean his blood — how could we get that? The blood of his daughter, Morwena, should do the trick! Once we get some, I'll do the rest.'
Alice pulled something from the pocket of her coat and held it up in front of me. It was a very small earthen jar with a cork in the end.
'They call this a blood jar,' she said. 'We need to get Morwena's blood into this and mix it with a little of yours. Then the Fiend'll be forced to keep away. You'd be safe, I'm sure of it. Don't need to be much. Just a few drops of each would do—'
'But it's dark magic, Alice. If the Spook finds out, he'll send you away for ever or even put you in a pit in his garden. And think of yourself. Of your own soul. If you're not careful, you could end up belonging to the Fiend!'
But before I could say anything more, the Spook called my name and waved me forward to join him. So I ran to catch him up, leaving Alice behind.
We walked on, the path now running very close to the shore of the lake, and the Spook kept eyeing the water warily. No doubt he was thinking of the threat from Morwena or the other water witches. They could attack from the water at any time. But I was relying on Alice or Claw to give us some warning.
Had Morwena been following since we left the mill, keeping her distance and just waiting for an opportunity to attack? Both sides of the lake were thickly forested. She could be moving through the dense tree cover, or even swimming below the surface of the still water. The winter sun was bathing the countryside with its pale light and the visibility was good: I didn't sense danger at all. But once night fell, it would be a very different matter.
How wrong could I have been? Danger was all around, for the Spook came to a sudden halt and pointed to a tree on our right, less than fifty paces from the lake shore.
My heart lurched with fear as I saw what was carved into its trunk.
'It looks to be freshly cut,' my master said. 'Now we've got another enemy to worry about!'
It was the mark of Grimalkin. In the summer she'd been sent by the Malkins to hunt me down and I'd tricked her and barely escaped with my life. But now she was back. Why had she left Pendle?
'Have they sent her after me again?' I asked fearfully. 'She's not another daughter of the Fiend, is she?'
The Spook sighed. 'It's impossible to say, lad, but not to my knowledge. Something's afoot though. Last week, when I travelled to Pendle, I kept my distance from the witch clans, confining my visit to Malkin Tower. But something was brewing. I passed several cottages that had been burned out and there were bodies rotting in Crow Wood — from all three clans: Malkins, Deanes and Mouldheels. It looked like there'd been some sort of battle. The dark may be at war with itself. But why's Grimalkin come north? It may not be for you at all, but it does seem something of a coincidence that the two of you should both be here. Anyway, she's put her warning mark close to the shore so let's be extra vigilant.'
Late in the afternoon we came within sight of Belle Isle. As we drew nearer, I saw that it was far closer to the lake shore than I'd expected, its nearest point probably no more than a hundred and fifty yards out.
There were jetties close by from where ferrymen plied their trade, but while they'd have taken us to the far shore of the lake for a pittance, not even a silver coin could hire a boat for the short trip to the island.
When asked why, each man was evasive. 'Not a place to be, night or day. Not if you value your sanity,'
warned the third ferryman we approached. Then, probably tired of the Spook's persistence, he pointed towards a dilapidated rowing boat tied up amongst the reeds. 'Woman who owns that boat might just be daft enough to take you.'
'Where will we find her?' asked the Spook.
'Back there about a mile and you'll be at the door of her cottage,' the man said with an ugly laugh, pointing vaguely north along the bank. 'Daft Deana, she's known as. But Deana Beck is her real name! She's the best you'll get for that job!'
'Why's she daft?' the Spook demanded with a frown. It was clear that he was annoyed by the man's attitude.
'Because the old girl doesn't know what's good for her!' retorted the ferryman. 'No family to worry about, has she? And so old she doesn't care for living that much. Nobody with even half the sense they were born with goes near that hag-ridden isle.'
'There are witches on the island?' asked the Spook.
'They visit from time to time. Lots of witches, if you look close enough, but most sensible folk turn the other way. Pretend it isn't happening. You go and speak to Daft Deana.'
The ferryman was still laughing as we walked away. Soon we arrived at a small thatched cottage set against a steep, wooded incline. The Spook rapped at the door while Claw padded up to the water's edge and stared out across the lake towards the island. After a few moments there was the sound of bars being drawn back and the door opened no more than the width of the suspicious eye that regarded us from within.
'Be off with ye!' growled a gruff voice that didn't sound a bit like that of a woman. 'Vagabonds and beggars aren't wanted here.'
'We aren't here to beg,' explained the Spook patiently. 'My name is John Gregory. I need your help and for that I'm prepared to pay well. You're highly recommended.'
'Highly recommended, am I? Then let's see the colour of your money. '
The Spook reached into his cloak, pulled a silver coin from his pocket and held it towards the gap in the doorway. 'That in advance and the same again when you've done the work.'
'What work? What work? Spit it out! Don't be wasting my time.'
'We need to get across to Belle Isle. Can you do that? That and get u
s back safely?'
A gnarled hand emerged slowly into the daylight and the Spook dropped the coin into the palm, which instantly closed tightly. 'I can certainly do that,' said the voice, softening a little. 'But the trip won't be without danger. Best come inside and warm your bones.'
The door opened wide and we were confronted by the sight of Deana Beck: she was dressed in leather trousers, a grimy smock and big hobnailed boots. Her white hair was cropped short, and for a moment she looked like a man. But the eyes, which flickered with intelligence, were soft and female and the lips formed a perfect bow. Her face was lined with age but her body was sturdy and she looked strong and robust, well able to row us out to the island.
The room was empty but for a small table in the corner. The hard stone floor was strewn with rushes and Deana hunkered down close to the fire and gestured that we should do the same.
'Comfortable, are ye?' she asked when we'd settled down.
'My old bones prefer a chair,' answered the Spook dryly. 'But vagabonds and beggars can't be choosers.'
She smiled at that and nodded. 'Well, I've managed all my life without the comfort of a chair,' she said, her voice now much lighter and with a lilt to it. 'So tell me now, why do ye want to go out to the island? What brings a spook to Belle Isle? Are you here to deal with the witches?'
'Not directly, unless they get in our way,' admitted the Spook. 'Not on this occasion anyway. A colleague of mine has been missing for days and we've good reason to believe he's somewhere out there on the island.'
'And what makes you so sure?'
'We consulted a dowser — Judd Atkins from Cartmel.'
'I met the man once,' Deana said, nodding. 'He found a body in the lake not too far from here. Well, if Atkins says he's out there, then he probably is. But how did he get there? That's what I want to know.'
The Spook sighed. 'He was abducted while trying to deal with a water witch. It could well be that some locals are involved as well — either from Coniston or one of the other villages.'
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