'If he wears it at all, it'll do the trick,' said Judd Atkins, coming to his feet. He tied a piece of string to the ring, which he suspended over the map, moving steadily from right to left, each pass taking him further north.
We watched him in silence. He was very thorough and it took him a long time. Eventually he reached the latitude of the lakes. Soon his hand jerked. He moved down a bit and repeated his sweep until his hand twitched again at exactly the same point. It was well over five miles east of Coniston Water, somewhere on the Big Mere, its larger sister lake.
'He's somewhere on that island,' the hermit said, pointing to it with his forefinger.
The Spook peered at it closely. 'Belle Isle,' he said. 'Never been there. Know anything about it?'
'I've passed by there more than once on my travels,' the hermit replied. 'There was a murder about a mile south of that island some years ago. A fight over a woman. The victim was weighted with stones and thrown into the lake. I found the body by dowsing. As for the island itself, nobody visits it any more. Got a bad reputation.'
'Haunted?' asked the Spook.
Judd shook his head. 'Not to my knowledge, but people keep away and certainly avoid it after dark. It's heavily wooded and there's a folly hidden by the trees. Otherwise it's deserted. You'd most likely find William there.'
'What's a folly?' I asked.
'It's usually some sort of small ornamental building without any apparent purpose, lad,' the Spook answered. 'Sometimes they're built in the shape of towers or castles. They're meant to be looked at, not lived in. That's how they get their name – it's a piece of foolishness built by someone who doesn't have to worry about working for a living. Someone with time on their hands and more money than sense.'
'Well, that's where William Arkwright is,' asserted the hermit. 'But whether alive or dead, I just can't be sure.'
'How would we get out to the island?' asked the Spook, folding up his map.
'With difficulty,' answered Judd, shaking his head. 'There are ferrymen who make a living taking passengers across the lake, but few will want to land anyone there.'
'Well, we can but try,' said the Spook. 'Thank you for all your help, Mr Atkins, and I'll certainly give something to the sand guide to support the bereaved.'
'Then I'm more than glad to have been able to help,' said the hermit. 'Now you're welcome to shelter here for the night. In the way of sustenance though, I've not much to offer but a share of my broth.'
Preparing to face the dark, the Spook and I declined the offer of food. To my surprise, Alice once again did the same – she usually had a healthy appetite and liked to keep her strength up. However, I said nothing, and we soon settled ourselves down, grateful to spend the night close to the hermit's fire.
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.'
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 war
ning mark close to the shore so let's be extra vigilant.'