The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection

by Joseph Delaney

  I walked with Alice to the summit of the slope. There we saw that the silver chain was wrapped tightly about the witch from head to toe. It was even tight across her open mouth, hard against her teeth. Her eyes were rolling in her head and her whole body was twitching with effort, but she couldn’t cry out.

  I glanced across at Tusk. He was lying on his back with his eyes wide open. He was dead, all right, and there was a red wound in the middle of his forehead. I looked at the staff then, wondering about the flame I’d seen at its tip.

  My master looked gaunt, tired, and suddenly very old. He kept shaking his head as if he were weary of life itself. In the shadow of the slope, his hair was back to its usual gray color, and I realized why it had seemed to stream back from his head: It was saturated with sweat and he’d slicked it back with his hand so that it stuck up and out behind his ears. He did it again as I watched. Beads of sweat were dripping from his brow, and he was breathing very rapidly. I realized he’d been running.

  “How did you find us?” I asked.

  It was a while before he answered, but at last his breathing began to slow and he was able to speak. “There are signs, lad. Trails that can be followed, if you know how. That’s something else you’ll have to learn.”

  He turned and looked at Alice. “That’s two of them dealt with, but what are we going to do about you?” he asked, staring at her hard.

  “She helped me escape,” I said.

  “Is that so?” asked the Spook. “But what else did she do?”

  He looked hard at me then, and I tried to hold his gaze. When I looked down at my boots, he made a clicking noise with his tongue. I couldn’t lie to him, and I knew that he’d guessed that she’d played some part in what had happened to me.

  He looked at Alice again. “Open your mouth, girl,” he said harshly, his voice full of anger. “I want to see your teeth.”

  Alice obeyed, and the Spook suddenly reached forward, seizing her by the jaw. He brought his face close to her open mouth and sniffed very loudly.

  When he turned back to me, his mood seemed to have softened, and he gave a deep sigh. “Her breath is sweet enough,” he said. “You’ve smelled the breath of the other?” he asked, releasing Alice’s jaw and pointing down at Bony Lizzie.

  I nodded.

  “It’s caused by her diet,” he said. “And it tells you right away what she’s been up to. Those who practice bone or blood magic get a taste for blood and raw meat. But the girl seems all right.”

  Then he moved his face close to Alice’s again. “Look into my eyes, girl,” he told her. “Hold my gaze as long as you can.”

  Alice did as he told her, but she couldn’t look at him for long, even though her mouth was twitching with the effort. She dropped her eyes and began to cry softly.

  The Spook looked down at her pointy shoes and shook his head sadly. “I don’t know,” he said, turning at me again. “I just don’t know what to do for the best. It’s not just her. We’ve others to think about. Innocents who might suffer in the future. She’s seen too much and she knows too much for her own good. It could go either way with her, and I don’t know if it’s safe to let her go. If she goes east to join the brood at Pendle, then she’ll be lost forever and she’ll just add to the dark.”

  “Haven’t you anywhere else you could go?” I asked Alice gently. “No other relations?”

  “There’s a village near the coast. It’s called Staumin. I’ve another aunt lives there. Perhaps she’d take me in . . .”

  “Is she like the others?” the Spook asked, staring at Alice again.

  “Not so you’d notice,” she replied. “Still, it’s a long way and I ain’t ever been there before. Could take three days or more to get there.”

  “I could send the lad with you,” said the Spook, his voice suddenly a lot kinder. “He’s had a good look at my maps, so I reckon he should be able to find the way. When he gets back, he’ll be learning how to fold them up properly. Anyway, it’s decided. I’m going to give you a chance, girl. It’s up to you whether you take it. If you don’t, then one day we’ll meet again, and the next time you won’t be so lucky.”

  Then the Spook pulled the usual cloth from his pocket. Inside it was a hunk of cheese for the journey. “Just so you don’t go hungry,” he said, “but don’t eat it all at once.”

  I hoped we might find something better to eat on the way, but I still mumbled my thanks.

  “Don’t go straight to Staumin,” said the Spook, staring at me hard without blinking. “I want you to go home again first. Take this girl with you, and let your mother talk to her. I’ve a feeling she might just be able to help. I’ll expect you back within two weeks.”

  That brought a smile to my face. After all that had happened, a chance to go home for a while was a dream come true. But one thing did puzzle me, because I remembered the letter my mam had sent the Spook. He hadn’t seemed that happy with some of the things she’d said. So why should he think my mam would be able to help Alice? I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to risk making the Spook have second thoughts. I was just glad to be away.

  Before we left, I told him about Billy. He nodded sadly but said not to worry because he’d do what was necessary.

  As we set off, I glanced back and saw the Spook carrying Bony Lizzie over his left shoulder and striding away toward Chipenden. From behind you’d have taken him for a man thirty years younger.

  CHAPTER XII

  The Desperate and the Dizzy

  AS we came down the hill toward the farm, warm drizzle was drifting into our faces. Somewhere far off a dog barked twice, but below us everything was quiet and still.

  It was late afternoon, and I knew that my dad and Jack would be out in the fields, which would give me a chance to talk to Mam alone. It was easy for the Spook to tell me to take Alice home with me, but the journey had given me time to think, and I didn’t know how Mam would take it. I didn’t feel she’d be happy having someone like Alice in the house, especially when I told her what she’d been up to. And as for Jack, I’d a pretty good idea what his reaction would be. From what Ellie had told me last time about his attitude to my new job, having the niece of a witch in the house was the last thing he’d want.

  As we crossed the yard I pointed to the barn. “Better shelter under there,” I said. “I’ll go in and explain.”

  No sooner had I spoken than the loud cry of a hungry baby came from the direction of the farmhouse. Alice’s eyes met mine briefly, then she looked down, and I remembered the last time we’d been together when a child had cried.

  Without a word, Alice turned and walked into the barn, her silence no more than I expected. You’d think that after all that had happened, there’d have been a lot to talk about on the journey, but we’d hardly spoken. I think she’d been upset by the way the Spook had held her by the jaw and smelled her breath. Maybe it had made her think about all the things she’d been up to in the past. Whatever it was, she’d seemed deep in thought and very sad for most of the time.

  I suppose I could have tried harder, but I was too tired and weary, so we’d walked in silence until it had grown into a habit. It was a mistake: I should have made the effort to get to know Alice better then—it might have saved me a lot of trouble later.

  As I jerked open the back door, the crying stopped and I heard another sound, the comforting click of Mam’s rocking chair.

  The chair was by the window, but the curtains weren’t fully drawn, and I could see by her face that she’d been peering through the narrow gap between them. She’d watched us enter the yard, and as I came into the room, she began to rock the chair faster and harder, staring at me all the while without blinking, one half of her face in darkness, the other lit by the large candle that was flickering in its big brass holder in the center of the table.

  “When you bring a guest with you, it’s good manners to invite her into the house,” she said, her voice a mixture of annoyance and surprise. “I thought I’d taught you better than
that.”

  “Mr. Gregory told me to bring her here,” I said. “Her name’s Alice, but she’s been keeping bad company. He wants you to talk to her but I thought it was best to tell you what’s happened first, just in case you didn’t want to invite her in.”

  So I drew up a chair and told Mam exactly what had happened. When I’d finished she let out a long sigh, then a faint smile softened her face.

  “You’ve done well, son,” she told me. “You’re young and new to the job, so your mistakes can be forgiven. Go and bring that poor girl in, then leave us alone to talk. You might want to go upstairs and say hello to your new niece. Ellie will certainly be glad to see you.”

  So I brought Alice in, left her with my mam, and went upstairs.

  Ellie was in the biggest bedroom. It used to belong to my mam and dad, but they’d let her and Jack have it because there was room for another two beds and a cot, which would come in useful as their family grew.

  I knocked lightly on the door, which was half open, but only looked into the room when Ellie called out for me to go in. She was sitting on the edge of the big double bed feeding the baby, its head half hidden by her pink shawl. As soon as she saw me, her mouth widened into a smile that made me feel welcome, but she looked tired and her hair lank and greasy. Although I glanced away quickly, Ellie was sharp and I knew she’d seen me staring and read the expression in my eyes, because she quickly smoothed the hair away from her brow.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Tom,” she said. “I must look a mess—I’ve been up all night. I’ve just grabbed an hour’s sleep. You’ve got to get it while you can with a very hungry baby like this. She cries a lot, especially at night.”

  “How old is she?” I asked.

  “She’ll be just six days old tonight. She was born not long after midnight last Saturday.”

  That was the night I’d killed Mother Malkin. For a moment the memory of it came rushing back and a shiver ran down my spine.

  “Here, she’s finished feeding now,” Ellie said with a smile. “Would you like to hold her?”

  That was the last thing I wanted to do. The baby was so small and delicate that I was scared of squeezing it too hard or dropping it, and I didn’t like the way its head was so floppy. It was hard to say no, though, because Ellie would have been hurt. As it was, I didn’t have to hold the baby for long, because the moment it was in my arms its little face went red and it began to cry.

  “I don’t think it likes me,” I told Ellie.

  “She’s a she, not an it,” Ellie scolded, making her face all stern and outraged. “Don’t worry, it’s not you, Tom,” she said, her mouth softening into a smile. “I think she’s still hungry, that’s all.”

  The baby stopped crying the moment Ellie took her back, and I didn’t stay long after that. Then, on my way downstairs, I heard a sound from the kitchen I hadn’t expected.

  It was laughter, the loud, hearty laughter of two people getting on very well together. The moment I opened the door and walked in, Alice’s face became very serious, but Mam carried on laughing aloud for a few moments, and even when she stopped, her face was still lit up with a wide smile. They’d been sharing a joke, a very funny joke, but I didn’t like to ask what it was and they didn’t tell me. The look in both their eyes made me feel that it was something private.

  My dad once told me that women know things that men don’t. That sometimes they have a certain look in their eyes, but when you see it, you should never ask them what they’re thinking. If you do, they might tell you something you don’t want to hear. Well, whatever they’d been laughing at had certainly brought them closer; from that moment on it seemed as if they’d known each other for years. The Spook had been right. If anyone could sort Alice out, it had to be Mam.

  I did notice one thing, though. Mam gave Alice the room opposite hers and Dad’s. They were the two rooms at the top of the first flight of stairs. Mam had very sharp ears, and it meant that if Alice so much as turned over in her sleep, she would hear it.

  So for all that laughter, Mam was still watching Alice.

  When he came back from the fields, Jack gave me a really dark scowl and muttered to himself. He seemed angry at something. But Dad was pleased to see me, and to my surprise he shook hands with me. He always shook hands when greeting my other brothers who’d left home, but this was the first time for me. It made me feel sad and proud at the same time. He was treating me as if I were a man, making my own way in the world.

  Jack hadn’t been in the house five minutes when he came looking for me. “Outside,” he said, keeping his voice low so that nobody else could hear. “I want to talk to you.”

  We walked out into the yard and he led the way around the side of the barn, close to the pigpens, where we couldn’t be seen from the house.

  “Who’s the girl you’ve brought back with you?”

  “Her name’s Alice. It’s just someone who needs help,” I said. “The Spook told me to bring her home so that Mam could talk to her.”

  “What do you mean, she needs help?”

  “She’s been keeping bad company, that’s all.”

  “What sort of bad company?”

  I knew he wouldn’t like it, but I had no choice. I had to tell him. Otherwise he’d only ask Mam.

  “Her aunt’s a witch, but don’t worry—the Spook’s sorted it all out and we’ll only be staying for a few days.”

  Jack exploded. I’d never seen him so angry.

  “Don’t you have the sense you were born with?” he shouted. “Didn’t you think? Didn’t you think about the baby? There’s an innocent child living in this house, and you bring home someone from a family like that! It’s beyond belief!”

  He raised his fist and I thought he was going to thump me. Instead, he smashed it sideways into the wall of the barn, the sudden thud sending the pigs into a frenzy.

  “Mam thinks it’s all right,” I protested.

  “Aye, Mam would,” said Jack, his voice suddenly lower but still harsh with anger. “How could she refuse her favorite son anything? And she’s just too good-hearted, as well you know. That’s why you shouldn’t take advantage. Look, it’s me you’ll answer to if anything happens. I don’t like the look of that girl. She looks shifty. I’ll be watching her carefully, and if she takes one step out of line, you’ll both be on your way before you can blink. And you’ll earn your keep while you’re here. She can help around the house to make things easier for Mam, and you can pull your weight with the farmwork.”

  Jack turned and started to walk away, but he still had more to say. “Being so occupied with more important things,” he added sarcastically, “you might not have noticed how tired Dad looks. He’s finding the job harder and harder.”

  “Of course I’ll help,” I called after him, “and so will Alice.”

  At supper, apart from Mam, everyone was really quiet. I suppose it was having a stranger sitting at the table with us. Although Jack’s manners wouldn’t let him complain outright, he scowled at Alice almost as much as he did at me. So it was a good job Mam was cheerful and bright enough to light up the whole table.

  Ellie had to leave her supper twice to attend to the baby, which kept crying fit to bring the roof down. The second time she fetched it downstairs.

  “Never known a baby to cry so much,” said Mam with a smile. “At least it’s got strong, healthy lungs.”

  Its tiny face was all red and screwed up again. I would never have said it to Ellie, but it wasn’t the best looking of babies. Its face reminded me of an angry little old woman. One moment it was crying fit to burst; then, very suddenly, it became still and quiet. Its eyes were wide open and it was staring toward the center of the table, where Alice was seated close to the big brass candlestick. At first I didn’t think anything of it. I thought Ellie’s baby was just fascinated by the candle flame. But later Alice helped Mam clear the table, and each time Alice passed by, the baby followed her with its blue eyes, and suddenly, although the kitchen was warm, I shivered.
<
br />   Later I went up to my old bedroom, and when I sat down in the wicker chair by the window and gazed out, it was as if I’d never left home.

  As I looked northward, toward Hangman’s Hill, I thought about the way the baby had seemed so interested in Alice. When I remembered what Ellie had said earlier, I shivered again. Her baby had been born after midnight on the night of the full moon. It was too close to be just a coincidence. Mother Malkin would have been swept away by the river about the time that Ellie’s baby had been born. The Spook had warned me that she’d come back. What if she’d come back even earlier than he’d predicted? He expected her to be wick. But what if he was wrong? What if she’d broken free of her bones and her spirit had possessed Ellie’s baby at the very moment of its birth?

  I didn’t sleep a wink that night. There was only one person I could talk to about my fears, and that was Mam. The difficulty was in getting her alone without drawing attention to the fact that I was doing it.

  Mam cooked and did other chores that kept her busy most of the day, and usually it would have been no problem to talk to her in the kitchen because I was working close by. Jack had given me the job of repairing the front of the barn, and I must have hammered in hundreds of shiny new nails before sunset.

  Alice was the difficulty, though: Mam kept her with her all day, really making the girl work hard. You could see the sweat on her brow and the frowns that kept furrowing her forehead, but despite that, Alice never complained even once.

  It was only after supper, when they’d finished the clatter of washing and drying the dishes, that I finally got my chance. That morning Dad had gone off to the big spring market in Topley. He could conduct his business, and it gave him a rare chance to meet up with a few of his old friends, so he’d be away for two or three days. Jack was right. He did look tired, and it would give him a break from the farm.

  Mam had sent Alice off to her room to get some rest, Jack had his feet up in the front room, and Ellie was upstairs trying to grab half an hour’s sleep before the baby woke again for feeding. So, wasting no time at all, I started to tell Mam what was worrying me. She’d been rocking in her chair, but I’d hardly managed to blurt out my first sentence before the chair came to a halt. She listened carefully as I told her of my fears and reasons to suspect the baby. But her face remained so still and calm that I’d no idea what she was thinking. No sooner had I spat out my last word than she rose to her feet.