The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection

by Joseph Delaney

  “Wait there,” she said. “We need to sort this out once and for all.”

  She left the kitchen and went upstairs. When she came back she was carrying the baby, wrapped in Ellie’s shawl. “Bring the candle,” she said, moving toward the door.

  We went out into the yard, Mam walking fast, as if she knew exactly where she was going and what she was going to do. We ended up at the other side of the cattle midden, standing in the mud on the edge of our pond, which was deep enough and large enough to provide water for our cows even through the driest summer months.

  “Keep the candle high so we can see everything,” Mam said. “I want there to be no doubt.”

  Then, to my horror, she stretched out her arms and held the baby over the dark, still water. “If she floats, the witch is inside her,” Mam said. “If she sinks, she’s innocent. Right, let’s see—”

  “No!” I shouted, my mouth opening all by itself and the words just tumbling out faster than I could think. “Don’t do it, please. It’s Ellie’s baby.”

  For a moment I thought she was going to let the baby fall anyway, then she smiled and held it close again and kissed it on the forehead very gently. “Of course it’s Ellie’s baby, son. Can’t you tell that just by looking at her? Anyway, swimming is a test carried out by fools and doesn’t work anyway. Usually they tie the poor woman’s hands to her feet and throw her into deep, still water. But whether she sinks or floats depends on luck and the kind of body she has. It’s nothing to do with witchcraft.”

  “What about the way the baby kept staring at Alice?” I asked.

  Mam smiled and shook her head. “A newborn baby’s eyes aren’t able to focus properly,” she explained. “It was probably just the light of the candle that caught her attention. Remember—Alice was sitting close to it. Later, each time Alice passed by, the baby’s eyes would just have been drawn by the change in the light. It’s nothing. Nothing to worry about at all.”

  “But what if Ellie’s baby is possessed anyway?” I asked. “What if there’s something inside her that we can’t see?”

  “Look, son, I’ve delivered both good and evil into this world, and I know evil just by looking at it. This is a good child, and there’s nothing inside her to worry about. Nothing at all.”

  “Isn’t it strange, though, that Ellie’s baby should be born about the same time that Mother Malkin died?”

  “Not really,” Mam answered. “It’s the way of things. Sometimes, when something bad leaves the world, something good enters in its place. I’ve seen it happen before.”

  Of course, I realized then that Mam had never even considered dropping the baby and had just been trying to shock some sense into me, but as we walked back across the yard, my knees were still trembling with the thought of it. It was then, as we reached the kitchen door, that I remembered something.

  “Mr. Gregory gave me a little book all about possession,” I said. “He told me to read it carefully, but the trouble is, it’s written in Latin and I’ve only had three lessons so far.”

  “It’s not my favorite language,” Mam said, pausing by the door. “I’ll see what I can do, but it’ll have to wait until I get back—I’m expecting to be called away tonight. In the meantime, why don’t you ask Alice? She might be able to help.”

  Mam was right about being called away. A cart came for her just after midnight, the horses all in a sweat. It seemed that a farmer’s wife was having a really bad time of it and had already been in labor for more than a day and a night. It was a long way as well, almost twenty miles to the south. That meant that Mam would be away for a couple of days or more.

  I didn’t really want to ask Alice to help with the Latin. You see, I knew the Spook would have disapproved. After all, it was a book from his library and he wouldn’t have liked the idea of Alice even touching it. Still, what choice did I have? Since coming home, I’d been thinking about Mother Malkin more and more, and I just couldn’t get her out of my mind. It was just an instinct, just a feeling, but I felt that she was somewhere out there in the dark and she was getting nearer with each night that passed.

  So the following night, after Jack and Ellie had gone to bed, I tapped softly on Alice’s bedroom door. It wasn’t something I could ask her during the day because she was always busy, and if Ellie or Jack overheard, they wouldn’t like it. Especially with Jack’s dislike of spook’s business.

  I had to rap twice before Alice opened the door. I’d been worried that she might already be in bed asleep, but she still hadn’t undressed and I couldn’t stop my eyes from glancing down at her pointy shoes. On the dressing table there was a candle set close to the mirror. It had just been blown out—it was still smoking.

  “Can I come in?” I asked, holding my own candle high so that it lit her face from above. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

  Alice nodded me inside and closed the door.

  “I’ve a book that I need to read, but it’s written in Latin. Mam said you might be able to help.”

  “Where is it?” Alice asked.

  “In my pocket. It’s only a small book. For anyone who knows Latin, reading it shouldn’t take that long.”

  Alice gave a deep, weary sigh. “I’m busy enough as it is,” she complained. “What’s it about?”

  “Possession. Mr. Gregory thinks Mother Malkin could come back to get me and that she’ll use possession.”

  “Let’s see it then,” she asked, holding out her hand. I placed my candle next to hers, then reached into my breeches and pulled out the small book. She skimmed through the pages without a word.

  “Can you read it?” I asked.

  “Don’t see why not. Lizzie taught me, and she knows her Latin backward.”

  “So you’ll help me?”

  She didn’t reply. Instead she brought the book very close to her face and sniffed it loudly. “You sure this is any good?” she asked. “Written by a priest, this is, and they don’t usually know that much.”

  “Mr. Gregory called it the definitive work,” I said, “which means it’s the best book ever written on the subject.”

  She looked up from the book then, and to my surprise her eyes were filled with anger. “I know what definitive means,” she said. “Think I’m stupid or something? Studied for years, I have, while you’ve only just started. Lizzie had lots of books, but they’re all burned now. All gone up in flames.”

  I muttered that I was sorry, and she gave me a smile.

  “Trouble is,” she said, her voice suddenly softening, “reading this’ll take time, and I’m too tired to start now. Tomorrow your mam’ll still be away, and I’ll be as busy as ever. That sister-in-law of yours has promised to help, but she’ll mostly be busy with the baby, and the cooking and cleaning will take me most of the day. But if you were to help . . .”

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d be helping Jack, so I wouldn’t have much free time. The trouble was, men never did any cooking or cleaning, and it wasn’t just that way on our farm. It was the same everywhere in the County. Men worked on the farm, outdoors in all weathers, and when they came in, the women had a hot meal waiting on the table. The only time we ever helped in the kitchen was on Christmas Day, when we did the washing up as a special treat for Mam.

  It was as if Alice could read my mind, because her smile grew wider. “Won’t be too hard, will it?” she asked. “Women feed the chickens and help with the harvest, so why shouldn’t men help in the kitchen? Just help me with the washing up, that’s all. And some of the pans’ll need scouring before I start cooking.”

  So I agreed to what she wanted. What choice did I have? I only hoped that Jack wouldn’t catch me at it. He’d never understand.

  I got up even earlier than usual and managed to scour the pans before Jack came down. Then I took my time over breakfast, eating very slowly, which was unlike me and enough to draw at least one suspicious glance from Jack. After he’d gone off into the fields, I washed the pots as quickly as I could and set to drying them. I might hav
e guessed what would happen, because Jack never had much patience.

  He came into the yard cursing and swearing and saw me through the window, his face all screwed up in disbelief. Then he spat into the yard and came around and pulled open the kitchen door with a jerk.

  “When you’re ready,” he said sarcastically, “there’s men’s work to be done. And you can start by checking and repairing the pigpens. Snout’s coming tomorrow. There are five to be slaughtered, and we don’t want to spend all our time rounding up strays.”

  Snout was our nickname for the pig butcher, and Jack was right. Pigs sometimes panicked when Snout got to work, and if there was any weakness in the fence they’d find it for sure.

  Jack turned to stamp away and then suddenly cursed loudly. I went to the door to see what was the matter. He’d accidentally stepped on a big fat toad, squashing it to a pulp. It was supposed to be bad luck to kill a frog or a toad, and Jack cursed again, frowning so much that his black bushy eyebrows met in the middle. He kicked the dead toad under the drain spout and went off, shaking his head. I couldn’t think what had got into him. Jack never used to be so bad tempered.

  I stayed behind and dried up every last pot—as he’d caught me at it, I might as well finish the job. Besides, pigs stank and I wasn’t much looking forward to the job that Jack had given me.

  “Don’t forget the book,” I reminded Alice as I opened the door to leave, but she just gave me a strange smile.

  I didn’t get to speak to Alice alone again until late that night, after Jack and Ellie had gone off to bed. I thought I’d have to visit her room again, but instead she came down into the kitchen carrying the book and sat herself down in Mam’s rocking chair, close to the embers of the fire.

  “Made a good job of those pans, you did. Must be desperate to find out what’s in here,” Alice said, tapping the spine of the book.

  “If she comes back, I want to be ready. I need to know what I can do. The Spook said she’ll probably be wick. Do you know about that?”

  Alice’s eyes widened and she nodded.

  “So I need to be ready. If there’s anything in that book that can help, I need to know about it.”

  “This priest ain’t like the others,” Alice said, holding the book out toward me. “Mostly knows his stuff, he does. Lizzie would love this more than midnight cakes.”

  I pushed the book into my breeches pocket and drew up a stool on the other side of the hearth, facing what was left of the fire. Then I started to question Alice. At first it was really hard work. She didn’t volunteer much, and what I did manage to drag out of her just made me feel a lot worse.

  I began with the strange title of the book. Possession. The Damned, the Dizzy, and the Desperate. What did it mean? Why call the book that?

  “First word is just priest talk,” Alice said, turning down the corners of her mouth in disapproval. “They just use ‘damned’ for people who do things differently. For people like your mam, who don’t go to church and say the right prayers. People who aren’t like them. People who are left-handed,” she said, giving me a knowing smile.

  “Second word’s more useful,” Alice continued. “A body that’s newly possessed has poor balance. It keeps falling over. Takes time, you see, for the possessor that’s moved in to fit itself comfortably into its new body. It’s like trying to wear in a new pair of shoes. Makes it bad tempered, too. Someone calm and placid can strike out without warning. So that’s another way you can tell.

  “Then, as for the third word, that’s easy. A witch who once had a healthy human body is desperate to get another one. Then, once she succeeds, she’s desperate to hold on to it. Ain’t going to give it up without a fight. She’ll do anything. Anything at all. That’s why the possessed are so dangerous.”

  “If she came here, who would it be?” I asked. “If she were wick, who would she try to possess? Would it be me? Would she try to hurt me that way?”

  “Would if she could,” Alice said. “Ain’t easy though, what with you being what you are. Like to use me, too, but I won’t give her the chance. No, she’ll go for the weakest. The easiest.”

  “Ellie’s baby?”

  “No, that ain’t no use to her. She’d have to wait till it’s all grown up. Mother Malkin never had much patience, and being trapped in that pit at Old Gregory’s would have made her worse. If it’s you she’s coming to hurt, first she’ll get herself a strong, healthy body.”

  “Ellie then? She’ll choose Ellie!”

  “Don’t you know anything?” Alice said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Ellie’s strong. She’d be difficult. No, men are much easier. Especially a man whose heart always rules his head. Someone who can fly into a temper without even thinking.”

  “Jack?”

  “It’ll be Jack for sure. Think what it’d be like to have big strong Jack after you. But the book’s right about one thing. A body that’s newly possessed is easier to deal with. Desperate it is, but dizzy, too.”

  I got my notebook out and wrote down anything that seemed important. Alice didn’t talk as fast as the Spook, but after a bit she got into her stride and it wasn’t long before my wrist was aching. When it came to the really important business—how to deal with the possessed—there were lots of reminders that the original soul was still trapped inside the body. So if you hurt the body, you hurt that innocent soul as well. So just killing the body to get rid of the possessor was as bad as murder.

  In fact that section of the book was disappointing: There didn’t seem to be a lot you could do. Being a priest, the writer thought that an exorcism, using candles and holy water, was the best way to draw out the possessor and release the victim, but he admitted that not all priests could do it and that very few could do it really well. It seemed to me that some of the priests who could do it were probably seventh sons of seventh sons and that was what really mattered.

  After all that, Alice said she felt tired and went up to bed. I was feeling sleepy, too. I’d forgotten how hard farmwork could be and I was aching from head to foot. Once up in my room, I sank gratefully onto my bed, anxious to sleep. But down in the yard the dogs had started to bark.

  Thinking that something must have alarmed them, I opened the window and looked out toward Hangman’s Hill, taking a deep breath of night air to steady myself and clear my head. Gradually the dogs became quieter and eventually stopped barking altogether.

  As I was about to close the window, the moon came out from behind a cloud. Moonlight can show the truth of things—Alice had told me that—just as that big shadow of mine had told Bony Lizzie that there was something different about me. This wasn’t even a full moon, just a waning moon shrinking down to a crescent, but it showed me something new, something that couldn’t be seen without it. By its light, I could see a faint silver trail winding down Hangman’s Hill. It crept under the fence and across the north pasture, then crossed the eastern hay field until it vanished from sight somewhere behind the barn. I thought of Mother Malkin then. I’d seen the silver trail the night I’d knocked her into the river. Now here was another trail that looked just the same, and it had found me.

  My heart thudding in my chest, I tiptoed downstairs and slipped out through the back door, closing it carefully behind me. The moon had gone behind a cloud, so when I went around to the back of the barn, the silver trail had vanished, but there was still clear evidence that something had moved down the hill toward our farm buildings. The grass was flattened as if a giant snail had slithered across it.

  I waited for the moon to reappear so that I could check the flagged area behind the barn. A few moments later the cloud blew away and I saw something that really scared me. The silver trail gleamed in the moonlight, and the direction it had taken was unmistakable. It avoided the pigpen and snaked around the other side of the barn in a wide arc to reach the far edge of the yard. Then it moved toward the house, ending directly under Alice’s window, where the old wooden hatch covered the steps that led down to the cellar.

  A fe
w generations back, the farmer who’d lived here used to brew ale, which he’d supplied to the local farms and even a couple of inns. Because of that, the locals called our farm Brewer’s Farm, although we just called it home. The steps were there so that barrels could be taken in and out without having to go through the house.

  The hatch was still in place covering the steps, a big rusty padlock holding its two halves in position, but there was a narrow gap between them, where the two edges of the wood didn’t quite meet. It was a gap no wider than my thumb, but the silver trail ended exactly there, and I knew that whatever had slithered toward this point had somehow slipped through that tiny gap. Mother Malkin was back and she was wick, her body soft and pliable enough to slip through the narrowest of gaps.

  She was already in the cellar.

  We never used the cellar now, but I remembered it well enough. It had a dirt floor, and it was mostly full of old barrels. The walls of the house were thick and hollow, which meant that soon she could be anywhere inside the walls, anywhere in the house.

  I glanced up and saw the flicker of a candle flame in the window of Alice’s room. She was still up. I went inside, and moments later I was standing outside her bedroom door. The trick was to tap just loud enough to let Alice know I was there without waking anybody else. But as I held my knuckles close to the door, ready to knock, I heard a sound from inside the room.

  I could hear Alice’s voice. She seemed to be talking to someone.

  I didn’t like what I was hearing, but I tapped anyway. I waited a moment, but when Alice didn’t come to the door, I put my ear against it. Who could she be talking to in her room? I knew that Ellie and Jack were already in bed, and anyway I could hear only one voice, and that was Alice’s. It seemed different, though. It reminded me of something I’d heard before. When I suddenly remembered what it was, I moved my ear away from the wood as if it had been burned and took a big step away from the door.