I didn't have long to wait. I heard something on the other side of the river. A thudding sound. A hissing too. Then a splash as something very large entered the water. At first it sounded like a horse. Certainly some big, heavy animal. But the rhythm of its crossing suggested two legs rather than one. It had to be the Fiend. He was coming for me now. Coming to claim my soul.
I could hear eruptions of steam, the water hissing and spitting as he approached. Then I saw huge cloven hoof prints appearing in the soft muddy bank, glowing red in the darkness. He'd crossed the river. With the formation of each print there was a hiss as the hot feet of the Fiend came into contact with the soggy ground. Then he began to materialize. This was no image of the murdered Matthew Gilbert; this was the Fiend in his true, terrible shape – a shape that caused some people to die on the spot from fear. And he glowed with sinister light so that every detail of him was visible to my terrified gaze.
The Spook had told me that the Fiend could make himself large or small. Now he had chosen to be big. Almost three times my height, with a chest like a barrel, he towered above me. He was a titan, roughly human in shape – though that similarity only served to make him appear more monstrous.
His feet were the cloven hooves of a goat and his long tail dangled behind him in the mud. He was naked, but no flesh was on view; his body was covered in long black hair. His face too was hairy but his features were plain to see: the prominent teeth and curved horns of a goat; the malevolent gaze of the eyes, with their elongated pupils. He came close, very close, within the reach of my arm, and the stench that came from him was ranker than anything from a barnyard. I could only stare upwards into those terrible, compelling eyes. I was transfixed. Helpless.
My knees threatened to give way and my whole body began to tremble. Was I dying? About to take my last breath?
At that moment I heard a sound behind me. Footsteps! There was a light and I saw it reflected in the pupils of the Fiend. Saw his eyes widen in anger. I turned. Someone was standing close behind me holding a lantern. It was Alice, and she was gripping something in her other hand too. Something small. Something she was holding before her like a weapon. She pushed it into my left hand.
'Leave him be!' she cried. 'He's mine. Tom belongs to me! Get you gone! You can't stay in this place!'
At those words the Fiend let out a terrible bellow of rage. For a moment I thought he might reach down and crush us both. His anger surged towards me with palpable force. I was blown backwards off my feet into the mud and I heard the trees on the slope behind me crack and splinter. Then the wind seemed to reverse direction and he simply vanished.
There was utter silence. All I could hear was my own breathing, the beating of my heart and the gurgle of the river.
Then by the light of the lantern, I saw what I was holding in my left hand.
The blood jar.
I struggled to my feet just a second after Alice, who was already retrieving the lantern from the mud.
'What were you doing out here all alone, Tom?' she demanded. 'Did you come here to meet the Fiend?'
I didn't answer and she came nearer, holding up the lantern to look closely into my eyes. My heart was beating wildly, my mind in turmoil. I was still trembling at my escape yet wondering if the Fiend might reappear again at any moment. How could Alice have driven him away like that? How was that possible?
'Something bothering you, Tom, isn't there? Been funny for days, you have. Too quiet . . . and there's something in your eyes. An expression I ain't ever seen before. Know you lost your mam, but is there something else? Something you ain't telling me?'
For a moment I didn't speak; I tried to hold it back, but the urge to share my fears with someone made me blurt it out in a torrent.
'The Fiend visited me in the Ord,' I explained. 'He showed me the future. That all of us were going to die – you, the Spook and everyone in Kalambaka and Meteora. All the refugees on the road. He said he would give me a chance. He delayed the Ordeen's awakening for an hour. He also told me where she was to be found. But for that I wouldn't have been able to help Mam. We'd have lost.'
For a moment Alice was silent, but I could see the fear in her eyes. 'What did he want in return, Tom?' she asked. 'What did he want from you?'
'Not what you think, Alice. He didn't ask me to be his ally and to stand at his side. I would have refused him—'
'So what, Tom? Come on. Don't keep me waiting . . .'
'I gave him my soul, Alice. I sacrificed myself. You see, if the Ordeen had won she'd have been able to use her portal and appear anywhere she chose. And she would have come to the County. So I did my duty—'
'Oh, Tom! Tom! What a fool you've been! Don't you know what this means?'
'I know I'll suffer in some way, Alice. But what else could I have done? I suppose I was hoping that Mam would be able to find some way to save me. But now she's dead and I've just got to accept what's eventually coming to me.'
'It's worse than you can imagine, Tom. Much worse. Don't like to tell you this but it's best you know the truth. Once you are dead and the Fiend has your soul, you'll be totally in his power. He'll be able to make you feel pain worse than you've ever known. Don't you remember what you once told me about how Morgan tormented your dad's soul?'
I nodded. Morgan was a powerful necromancer and he'd trapped Dad's soul in Limbo for a while. He'd made him think he was burning in Hell. Tricked him into feeling the actual pain of the flames.
'Well, the Fiend could do the same to you, Tom. He could make you pay for fighting against him. Not only that: you'll have given up your life. He'll not have taken it. That means the hobbles will have been nullified and chance will prevail. He'll no longer face the threat that you might destroy him or send him back through the portal. With you out of the way, he'll be free to grow in power as the dark itself waxes until he finally rules the world. And you'll be in such terrible pain, tormented beyond anything your soul could bear, that you might actually become his ally just to be released from it. We may have defeated the Ordeen, but at a terrible price. The Fiend might have won, Tom. He might have beaten you. But there's one thing he didn't allow for . . .'
Alice pointed to the blood jar that I was still holding in my left hand. 'You really need this now. You have to keep it with you always. This is what drove him away—'
'But can it possibly work? I thought it needed my blood mixed with yours?' I asked.
'I took it without asking you, Tom. Sorry, but it had to be done. When those rocks came down on you, you were unconscious for a long time, so I took a little of your blood. Just three drops – that's all I needed. Your blood and my blood are together in this jar now. Keep it on your person and he can't come anywhere near you!
'So you've one chance! Just one! Forget your principles. None of 'em matter now, do they? You've used the dark wish that Grimalkin gave you and now you've sold your soul. It's the only thing left to do now, Tom. Keep the blood jar. If you use it, we've defeated the Ordeen and the Fiend's gained nothing!'
I nodded. She was right. That's all I had left now. A final chance, the means to keep the Fiend away from me. But the Spook's worst fears were coming true. Bit by bit I was being compromised and pulled towards the dark.
'But what about when I die, Alice? Even if it's five or fifty years from now, he'll still be waiting to take my soul. He'll get it in the end.'
'Can't get your soul if you destroy him first!'
'But how, Alice? How can I do that?'
'Got to be a way. Your mam gave you life so you could do that. Didn't she ever say how it could be done?'
I shook my head. I wondered if Mam had had any idea at all. If so, she'd never mentioned it. Now she was dead and it was too late.
'We'll find out how to do it, Tom. Slay him or bind him, one of the two, and then you'll be safe!'
I grasped the blood jar very tightly. It was the only thing keeping the Fiend at bay.
At dawn on the following day we began our journey west towards the port of
Igoumenitsa, where we hoped the Celeste would still be waiting. The witches had already left for the coast, and it was now only the Spook, Alice and me.
Hardly had the journey begun when something happened that lifted my spirits a little. The sound of barking alerted us – and Claw and her pups bounded towards us. And it was me they came to first; my hands that they licked.
'Always knew that dog would be yours one day,' Alice said with a smile. 'Didn't think you'd have three though!'
The Spook was less than enthusiastic. 'They can travel with us, lad, and we'll get them home to the County, but after that I'm not too sure. They're hunting dogs and Bill put them to good use. There's no place at Chipenden for them though. Those dogs and the boggart certainly wouldn't mix. They'd not survive even one night in the garden. We'd best try and find a good home for them.'
I couldn't argue with that. But it was good to have them back for now and it made my own journey towards the coast a little easier.
We were relieved to find the Celeste still waiting at anchor. The captain was happy to see us and, in the absence of Mam, immediately dealt with me as if I was the one who'd chartered the vessel. These were the instructions Mam had left, he explained.
We waited for several days, just in case there were any more survivors from the party who had sailed to Greece so long ago. A few stragglers turned up, and by the end of that time fifteen witches, including Grimalkin and the Mouldheel sisters, were sheltering in the hold. But there was no Bill Arkwright. It was clear now that he'd sacrificed his life to enable us to escape.
When we sailed for home, I didn't spend the nights on deck in a hammock as before but in the comfort of a large bed. It was the Spook's idea that I take Mam's cabin.
'Why not, lad?' he said. 'It's what she'd have wanted.'
So it was that my voyage home was one of relative luxury, and there, at night, listening to the creaking of the timbers and feeling the roll of the ship and the occasional snuffle from the dogs guarding my door, I had plenty of time to think. I went over and over again in my mind all that had happened, and always I returned to the same grim thought: was Mam trapped in the dark, her soul carried there as the ruin of the Ord passed through the portal? Had that been Bill Arkwright's fate too?
I kept hoping that I would dream about Mam; each night that was my aim. Suddenly dreaming was more important than waking. It didn't happen for almost two weeks, but finally she appeared to me. And it was a lucid dream too – I was fully aware that I was dreaming.
We were back in the kitchen at the farm and she was in her rocking chair, facing me across the hearth. I was sitting on a stool and I felt happy and contented. It was the Mam of old, not the one who had returned from Greece to make Jack fear she was a changeling; certainly not the one I'd talked to within the Ord, who had changed rapidly into that fearsome, beautiful angel.
She started to speak to me, her voice full of warmth, love and understanding.
'I always knew that you would be compromised by the dark, son. I knew that you would bargain with the Fiend because it was in you to do so from the very beginning. And you did it not just to help those you love, but for the whole of the County – for the whole world. Don't blame yourself. It's just part of the burden of being who you are.
'Above all, remember this,' she continued. 'The Fiend has damaged you but you have also damaged him and hurt the dark badly. Believe, son. Have faith in who you are. Believe that you will recover and it will truly happen. And don't judge yourself too harshly. Some things are meant to be, and you had to fall so that later you may rise and become what you are truly meant to be.'
I wanted to walk across and embrace her, but no sooner had I come to my feet than the dream faded and I opened my eyes. I was back in the cabin.
Was it a dream or something more? It was three days later, as we were sailing through the Strait of Gibraltar, that I had my second encounter with Mam. The wind had dropped away to almost nothing and we were virtually becalmed. That night I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
It happened just as I was waking up. I heard something directly in front of me, very close to the bed. A strange noise. Something sharp in the air. A sort of crackling, tearing sound. And for a moment I was scared. Terrified.
It wasn't the feeling of cold I often experienced when something from the dark approached. This was something powerful and shocking. It was as if, close to my side, there was something that had no right to be there. As if something had suddenly torn aside all the rules of the waking world. But just as some cosy dreams can suddenly turn into nightmares, this was the reverse. My terror was gone in an instant as something warm touched me.
It didn't touch my skin. It wasn't a warm hand. It was a sensation that passed right through me: upwards into my bones, flesh and nerves. It was warmth and love. Pure love. That's the only way I can describe it. There were no words. No message. But I no longer had any doubt.
It was Mam. She was safe and she'd come to say goodbye. I felt sure of it and, with that certainty, my pain lessened.
CHAPTER
24
IT CAN'T BE TRUE
Once again we endured a storm in the Bay of Biscay that threatened the ship but, despite a broken mast and tattered sails, we came through it and sailed on towards the cliffs of our homeland, the air growing colder by the hour.
We reached Sunderland Point and set off for Jack's farm: it was my duty to break the news of Mam's death to the family.
Grimalkin, Mab and the other surviving witches hurried off towards Pendle. With the dogs at our heels, we went towards the farm.
We walked on in silence, each of us deep in our own thoughts. As we approached the farm, I suddenly realized that Alice would be expected to keep away for fear of offending Jack and Ellie. Yet she needed to be by my side to gain the protection of the blood jar. If we were separated, the Fiend might attack her in revenge for what she'd done.
'Better if Alice comes with us to the farm,' I suggested, thinking quickly. 'Jack's bound to take things badly so Alice could give him some herbs to help him sleep.'
The Spook looked at me doubtfully, probably realizing that Jack wouldn't accept Alice's help anyway, but I turned on my heel and hurried on towards the farm with Alice at my side, leaving him with poor Bill Arkwright's three dogs.
Within minutes the farm dogs began to bark and Jack came running across the south pasture towards us. He halted about three feet away. He wouldn't necessarily have expected Mam to leave her homeland again and return to the County, so her absence wouldn't have concerned him, but he must have feared the worst from the sad expression on my face.
'What is it? What happened?' he demanded. 'Did you win?'
'Yes, Jack, we won,' I told him. 'We won, but at a terrible price. Mam's dead, Jack. There's no easy way to say it. She's dead.'
Jack's eyes widened, not with grief but disbelief. 'That's not right, Tom! It can't be true!'
'I know it's hard to take but it's the truth, Jack. Mam died as she destroyed her enemy. She sacrificed herself and made the world a better place – not just her homeland.'
'No! No!' Jack cried as his face began to crumple. I tried to put my arms around him to give him some comfort, but he pushed me away and kept saying, 'No! No!' over and over again.
James took the news more calmly. 'I sensed that was going to happen,' he told me quietly. 'I've been expecting it.'
When he gave me a hug, I felt his body trembling but he was trying to be brave.
Later, Jack took to his bed while the rest of us sat around the kitchen table in silence – but for Ellie, who was weeping softly. To be honest, I couldn't wait to get away from the farm. Things felt really bad and it had re-opened the wound of my own grief at losing Mam.
Ellie had made us some chicken soup and I forced myself to dunk rolls of bread into it to build up my strength for the journey. We stayed only a couple of hours, but just before we left, I went up to take my leave of Jack. I knocked lightly on the bedroom door. There was no
reply, and after trying twice more, I gradually eased it open. Jack was sitting up, his back against the headboard, his face a mask of grief.