This had been my home, but now it looked more like a house from a nightmare.At the back door, I paused for a moment to listen. Silence. So I went in and ran up the stairs two at a time until I faced the door to Mam's room. Then I pulled the keys from my neck and, with shaking fingers, inserted the largest one into the lock. Once inside, I locked the door behind me and leaned back against it, breathing deeply. I gazed around at the empty room with its bare floorboards. The air here was much warmer than outside. I felt the mildness of a summer's night. I was safe. Or was I?Could even Mam's room protect me from the Devil himself? Hardly had I begun to wonder about that when I remembered again something that Mam had said.If you're brave and your soul is pure and good, this room is a redoubt, a fortress against the dark. . . .Well, I was as brave as I could manage under the circumstances. I was afraid, true, but who wouldn't be? No, it was the bit about my soul being pure and good that worried me now. I felt that I'd changed for the worse. Bit by bit, the need to survive had made me betray the way that I'd been brought up.
Dad had taught me that I should keep my word, but I'd never for one moment intended to keep my bargain with Mab. It had been for a good reason, but nevertheless I'd deceived her. And the strange thing was that Mab, a witch who belonged to the dark, always kept her word.And then there was Grimalkin. She had a code of honor, but I'd beaten her with guile, with sly deceit. Was that why the tears had gushed from my eyes as I'd pretended to step toward her deadly embrace? Those tears had come as a complete surprise to me. An emotion had welled up inside, and I'd had no control over it. Those tears had probably put Grimalkin further off her guard: She'd assumed I was crying in fear.Had they in fact been tears of shame? Tears because I knew I'd fallen so far short of the behavior that Dad had expected of me? If my soul was no longer pure and good, then the room might not protect me, and my lies had merely put off the moment of my destruction.I walked across to the window and peered out. It overlooked the farmyard, and in the light of the blood moon I could see the blackened foundations of the barn, the empty pig and cattle pens, and the north pasture reaching to the foot of Hangman's Hill. Nothing moved.
I paced back toward the center of the room, growing increasingly nervous. Would I see the Devil approach? And if so, what form would he take? Or would he simply materialize out of the empty air? No sooner had that scary thought entered my head than I heard terrifying noises from outside--loud booms and bangs, thuds against the walls--and the house actually began to shake. Was it the Fiend? Was he trying to break into the house? Smash through the stones?It certainly sounded as if something were battering at the walls. Next, powerful rhythmical thumps came from above. Something heavy was pounding on the roof, and I could hear slates falling down into the yard. There were fearful bellowing and snorting sounds, too, like those of an angry bull. But when I rushed to the window again, there was nothing to be seen. Nothing at all.As suddenly as they had started, the sounds ceased, and in the deep silence that followed, the house itself seemed to be holding its breath. Then there were more noises, but from within the house; from down in the kitchen. The smash and crash of cups and saucers. The clatter of cutlery on stone flags. Someone was throwing crockery hard onto the floor; emptying drawers of kitchen utensils.
Moments later, that ceased, too, but into the brief silence intruded a new noise--that of a rocking chair. I could hear it clearly, creaking as its wooden runners made rhythmic contact with the flags.For a moment my heart leaped. I'd heard that sound so many times as a child: the familiar noise of Mam rocking in her chair. She was back! Mam had come back to save me, and now everything would be all right again!I should have had more faith, realized that she wouldn't leave me to face this horror alone. I reached for the key, actually intending to unlock the door and go downstairs. But I remembered just in time that Mam's chair had been smashed to pieces by the witches who'd raided the house. The crockery had already been broken, too, the knives and forks scattered on the flags. They were just sounds, re-created to lure me from the safety of the room.That sinister rocking faded and ceased. The next sound was much nearer. Something was climbing the stairs. It wasn't the thump of heavy boots. It sounded more like a large animal. I could hear its panting breath, the pad-pad of heavy paws on the wooden stairs and then a low, angry growl.Moments later, claws started scratching at the bottom of the door. At first it was exploratory and halfhearted, like a farm dog lured by the appetizing smell of cooking but remembering its place in the scheme of things and trying to get into a kitchen without doing too much damage. But then the clawing became more rapid and frantic, as if the wood were being ripped to shreds.Next I had a sense of something huge; something far larger than a dog.
A sudden stench of death and rot assailed my senses, and filled with alarm, I backed away from the door just as something thudded against it heavily. The door began to groan and buckle. For a moment I thought it would shatter or be flung open, but then the pressure eased, and all I could hear was the panting breath.After a while even that faded away, and I began to have more faith in the room and what Mam had done to protect me. Slowly I started to believe that I was safe and that not even the Devil himself could reach me here. Eventually my fear receded, to be replaced by weariness.I was close to exhaustion now, hardly able to keep my eyes open, so I stretched myself out on the hard wooden boards. Despite the discomfort, I fell almost immediately into a very deep sleep. How long I slept, it was impossi-ble to say, but when I got up, nothing had changed. I walked over to the window and gazed out over the same bleak scene. Nothing moved. It was a nightmare vision of timelessness. But then I realized that I was wrong. There had been one change. The ground was even whiter, the frost covering thicker and more extensive. Would the blood moon ever set? Would the sun ever shine again?Within the room there was still the mild warmth of a County summer's night, but gradually, even as I watched, frost started to form on the outside of the window until it became white and opaque.I walked across and placed my hand against it. The air around me was balmy, but the cold of the window bit into my skin instantly. I breathed hard onto the glass until a small circle of visibility formed, allowing me a narrow view of the same dismal outer scene.Was I trapped in some sort of earthly hell? Had the arrival of the Fiend done more damage than the Spook had expected, creating a timeless frozen domain over which he would rule forever? Would it ever be safe to leave Mam's room?I felt defeated and weary, and my mouth was parched, for I'd brought no water with me! What a fool I'd been! I should have thought of that and prepared myself better.
To stay in Mam's refuge for any significant length of time, I needed water and provisions. Things had happened so quickly, though. From the time I'd entered Pendle with the Spook, it had been one threat after another, danger after danger. What chance had there been?For a while I paced the floor. Backward and forward, from wall to wall. There was nothing else to do. Backward and forward, my boots thumping on the wooden boards. As I paced, I started to develop a severe headache. I didn't usually get headaches, but this one was really bad. It was as if a great weight were pressing down on the top of my head and it throbbed with every frantic beat of my heart.How long could I go on like this? Even if time was actually passing, it wasn't like anything I'd experienced before. With that I had a sudden dark thought. . . .Mam had protected the room, and the Fiend couldn't get in. But that didn't stop what he could do outside the room. He had changed the world--or at least changed the world that I could see from the window. Everything outside this room--the farm, the house, the trees, people, and animals--was in his grip. Would I ever be able to leave the room again? Maybe the world would only return to normal once I went outside?
Dark thoughts started to slip into my mind, despite all my efforts to keep them out. What was the use of anything? We were born, we lived a few years, grew old, and then died. What was the point of it all? All those people in the County and the wide world beyond, living their short little lives before going to the grave. What was it all for? My dad was dead. He'd worked hard all his life, but the
journey of his life had had only one destination: the grave. That's where we were all heading. Into the grave. Into the soil, to be eaten by worms. Poor Billy Bradley had been the Spook's apprentice before me. He'd had his fingers bitten off by a boggart and had died of shock and loss of blood. And where was he now? In a grave. Not even in a churchyard. He was buried outside because the Church considered him no better than a malevolent witch. That would be my fate, too. A grave in unhallowed ground. And Father Stocks hadn't even been buried yet. He was still lying dead in bed at Read Hall, his body rotting on the sheets. All his life he'd struggled to do right, just like my dad. Better to get it over with now, I thought. Better to leave Mam's room. Once I was dead, it would be finished with. There wouldn't be anything to worry about anymore. No pain, no more heartache.Anything was better than being imprisoned in this room until I died of thirst or starvation. Better to go outside now and be done with it.I was actually walking toward the door and reaching for the key when I sensed a sudden coldness; a warning. Something that didn't belong in this world was close by. In the corner of the room farthest from the door and the window, a shimmering column of light began to form.I backed away. Was it a ghost or something from the dark? I saw walking boots materialize first, then a black cassock. It was a priest! The head formed quickly, the face looking at me uncertainly. It was the ghost of Father Stocks! Or was it? I shivered again. I'd met things that could shape-shift. What if this was the Fiend, taking on the form of Father Stocks in order to deceive me? I fought to steady my breathing. Mam had said that nothing evil could enter here. I had to believe that. It was all I had left. So whatever the apparition was, it had to be good, not evil.
"I'm sorry, Father!" I cried. "Sorry that I didn't return in time to save you. I did my best and got back before dark fell, but it was already too late."Father Stocks nodded sadly. "You did all you could, Tom. All you possibly could. But now I'm lost and afraid. I've been wandering in a gray fog for what seems like an eternity. Once I thought I saw a faint glimmer of light ahead, but it faded and died away. And I keep hearing voices, Tom. The voices of children calling my name. Oh, Tom! I think they're the voices of the children I never had, my unborn children calling out to me. I should have been a real father, Tom. Not a priest. And now it's too late." "But why are you here, Father? Why have you come here to visit me? Are you here to help?"The ghost shook its head and looked bewildered. "I just found myself here, Torn, that's all. I didn't choose to be here. Perhaps somebody sent me. But why, I don't know.""You lived a good life, Father," I told him, stepping closer and starting to feel sorry for him. "You made a difference to lots of people and you fought the dark. What more could you do? So just go back. Go and look after yourself and forget me! Leave me--go back and search for the light.""I can't, Tom. I don't know how. I've tried to pray, but now my mind's just full of darkness and despair. I tried to fight the dark but didn't do it very well. I should have seen what Wurmalde was long ago. I let her blind me with glamour and fascination. Nowell suffered the same. But I should have known better. I failed as a priest, and all my training as a spook came to nothing. My life's been a complete waste. It was all for nothing!"
The plight of poor Father Stocks finally made me forget my own fears. He was in torment, and I had to help. I remembered how the Spook usually dealt with troubled ghosts that couldn't move on. If giving them a good talking-to had no effect, he would ask them to consider their own lives. To focus on a happy memory. A memory that usually freed them from the chains binding them to this world."Listen to me, Father. You were a spook as well as a priest. So remember now what John Gregory taught you. All you have to do is think about a happy memory and concentrate on that. So think now! Think carefully. Concentrate! What was your happiest moment on this earth?"The anguished face of the dead priest shimmered and almost faded away, but then it came back into sharp focus and looked very thoughtful."One morning I woke up and looked about me. I was lying on a bed and the sun was shining through the window and dust motes were dancing in that broad beam of sunlight, glittering like a thousand angels. But for a moment I could remember nothing. I didn't know who I was. I didn't know where I was. I couldn't even remember my own name. I had no worries, no cares. I was just a point of consciousness. It was as if I was free of the burden of life. Free of all that I'd been and done. I was nobody, but I was everybody at the same time. And I was happy and content."
"And that's exactly what you are now," I told him, seizing on the idea he'd just put forward. "You're nobody, and you're everybody. And you've already found the light. . . ."Father Stocks's mouth opened in astonishment. Then a slow smile spread across his face, a smile of joy and understanding. His ghost slowly faded away, and I smiled, too; my first smile for a long time. I'd just sent my first ghost into the light.And, speaking of light, Mam's room was suddenly full of it! As Father Stocks faded away, a bright shaft of sunlight fell through the window, and it too was full of gleaming dust motes, just as the dead priest had described.I took a deep breath. It seemed to me that I'd been very-low. The Fiend hadn't been able to enter the room, but somehow he'd reached into my mind so that I would despair, open the door, and go out to him. Just in time the ghost of Father Stocks had appeared, and I'd forgotten my own pain. My ordeal was over. I knew instinctively that it was safe, at last, to leave the room.I walked over to the window. The blood moon had gone. The nightmare was over. Suddenly my awareness of the passage of time returned. Two days must have passed since the arrival of the Fiend through the portal, so it was now the third day of August. Today was my birthday. I was fourteen.The sky was blue, the grass green, and there wasn't a trace of frost anywhere. It had all been a trick, an illusion to draw me from the room to my destruction.Then I saw two people walking side by side down Hangman's Hill toward the farm. One of them was limping, and even from a distance, I recognized them: It was the Spook and Alice. My master was carrying two bags and two staffs. But then I saw that something on the hill above them had changed.A dark vertical shadow, like a scar, now divided the wood.
Chapter 25
A NEW ORDER
I unlocked the door, left the house, and gazed about me at a scene of devastation. The chimney stack had collapsed onto the roof, and most of the windows had been smashed. Roof tiles were scattered about the yard, fence posts had been uprooted, and Mam's rose stems had been torn from the wall. The Fiend had probably done that in frustration at not being able to get into her room.But the destruction didn't end there. I gazed up at Hangman's Hill and realized just what that dark scar was. A wide path had been cut through the wood, the trees flattened. It looked as if the Fiend had felled them as he descended to attack the house. Felled them as easily as a scythe cuts a swath of grass. What strength and power that suggested! Even so, Mam's room had -withstood the attack.But it was over now. The air was still and the birds were singing. I walked across the yard and headed toward Hangman's Hill, meeting the Spook and Alice at the open gate of the north pasture. Alice limped forward and put her arms round me and gave me a big hug."Oh, Tom! I'm so glad to see you. I hardly dared hope that you'd survive.""I'm sorry we couldn't do more, lad," said the Spook. "You were on your own from the moment you ran for the farm, and there was nothing that anybody could have done to help. Once here, we watched from the hill, but it was too risky to get any closer.
By the time we arrived, the Fiend had conjured up a dark cloud, 'which had settled right over the house and yard, obscuring them from view, and we could hear him within it, battering, bellowing, and doing his worst. It was bad having to keep our distance and do nothing to help, but I put my trust in that mother of yours, hoping that what she'd done to the room would be enough to keep you safe. And it looks like that trust was well founded.""But he's in the world now, isn't he?" I asked, hoping that the Spook might contradict me.Shattering my last hope, he just nodded grimly in silent confirmation. "Aye, he's here all right. You can feel it. Something's changed. It's like the first chill in the autumn air. A warning of winter. A new order of things has begun. As Fath
er Stocks once said, the Fiend is the dark made flesh, but Wurmalde and the witches could only control him for two days. They sent him after you, but now that's over and he'll be making his own plans. He's no longer bound to their will, and hopefully he'll forget you for a while. But now nobody in the County is safe. The power of the dark will grow even faster, and we'll all have our work cut out to keep it at bay. Our trade was dangerous before, but what -we face now doesn't bear thinking about, lad!"I pointed up at the scar that divided Hangman's Wood.
"Is there damage like that elsewhere?" I asked."Aye, lad, there is--but just along the direct path from Pendle Hill to here. Crops have been flattened, along with a good many trees and the odd building or two. No doubt lives have been lost, but once here the Fiend concentrated on trying to get at you; the County -was spared -what could have been far worse.""So we failed," I said sadly. "A force that can do that is far too strong for anybody to face. How big is he? Is he some sort of giant?""According to the old books, he can take any shape he wants and make himself large or small," the Spook replied. "But most of the time, he looks just like a man. Somebody you wouldn't give a second glance. And he doesn't always use brute strength; he often gets his way by cunning. How much of that is true, only time will tell. But cheer up, lad. Where there's a will there's a way. We'll find the means to deal with him one day. Wurmalde is dead; without her the witch clans will soon be at one another's throats again. And we've struck a mighty blow at the Malkins. That tower's theirs no longer. Those two lamias seem to have made it their home. That means your trunks are safe, and we've got an even better place to operate from when we visit Pendle again --""What? We're going back now?" I asked wearily. The thought of that was almost too much to bear."No, it's back to Chipenden now for a well-earned rest. But we'll go back one day. Either next year or the one after. The job's not finished yet. And there's a lot of hard practice ahead for you now. Had you got Grimalkin with the chain, there'd have been no need to use my staff, would there?"I was too tired to argue, so I just nodded. "Still, you escaped with your life, lad, which wasn't too bad under the circumstances. By the time we reached the tree, which was just beyond the edge of the path cut by the Fiend, she'd freed herself and was long gone, but her blood was still on it. She'd thrown down my staff and couldn't have touched the chain even if she'd wanted to. It's back safe and sound in your bag for now. But that's another enemy you've made for yourself--one more reason to be on your guard!"