As rivers went it wasn’t that wide, but it was deep, swollen by the spring rains to a level where it had almost burst its banks. The water was moving fast too, rushing away from me towards the darkness beneath the trees where the witch was. I looked very carefully, but it still took me quite a few moments to find her.
Mother Malkin was moving towards me. She was a shadow darker than the tree shadows, a sort of blackness that you could fall into, a darkness that would swallow you up for ever. I heard her then, even above the noise made by the fast-flowing river. It wasn’t just the sound of her bare feet, which were making a sort of slithery noise as they moved towards me through the long grass at the stream’s edge. No - there were other sounds that she was making with her mouth and perhaps her nose. The same sort of noises she’d made when I’d fed her the cake. There were snortings and snufflings that once again brought into my mind the memory of our hairy pigs feeding from the swill bucket. Then a different sound, a sucking noise.
When she moved out from under the trees into the open, the moonlight fell on her and I saw her properly for the first time. Her head was bowed low, her face hidden by a tangled mass of white and grey hair, so it seemed that she was looking at her feet, which were just visible under the dark gown that came down to her ankles. She wore a black cloak too, and either it was too long for her or the years she had spent in the damp earth had made her shrink. It hung down to the ground behind her and it was this, dragging over the grass, that seemed to be making the silver trail.
Her gown was stained and torn, which wasn’t really surprising, but some were fresh stains - dark, wet patches. Something was dripping onto the grass at her side and the drips were coming from what she gripped tightly in her left hand.
It was a rat. She was eating a rat. Eating it raw.
She didn’t seem to have noticed me yet. She was very close now, and if nothing happened, she’d bump right into me. I coughed suddenly. It wasn’t to warn her. It was a nervous cough and I hadn’t meant it to happen.
She looked up at me then, lifting into the moonlight a face that was something out of a nightmare, a face that didn’t belong to a living person. Oh, but she was alive all right. You could tell that by the noises she was making eating that rat.
But there was something else about her that terrified me so much that I almost fainted away on the spot. It was her eyes. They were like two hot coals burning inside their sockets, two red points of fire.
And then she spoke to me, her voice something between a whisper and a croak. It sounded like dry dead leaves rustling together in a late autumn wind.
‘It’s a boy,’ she said. ‘I like boys. Come here, boy.’
I didn’t move, of course. I just stood there, rooted to the spot. I felt dizzy and light-headed.
She was still moving towards me and her eyes seemed to be growing larger. Not only her eyes; her whole body seemed to be swelling up. She was expanding into a vast cloud of darkness that within moments would darken my own eyes for ever.
Without thinking, I lifted the Spook’s staff. My hands and arms did it, not me.
‘What’s that, boy, a wand?’ she croaked. Then she chuckled to herself and dropped the dead rat, lifting both her arms towards me.
It was me she wanted. She wanted my blood. In absolute terror, my body began to sway from side to side. I was like a sapling agitated by the first stirrings of a wind, the first storm wind of a dark winter that would never end.
I could have died then, on the bank of that river. There was nobody to help and I felt powerless to help myself.
But suddenly it happened ...
The Spook’s staff wasn’t a wand, but there’s more than one kind of magic. My arms conjured up something special, moving faster than I could even think.
They lifted the staff and swung it hard, catching the witch a terrible blow on the side of the head.
She gave a sort of grunt and fell sideways into the river. There was a big splash and she went right under but came up very close to the bank about five or six paces downstream. At first I thought that that was the end of her, but to my horror her left arm came out of the water and grabbed a tussock of grass. Then the other arm reached for the bank and she started to drag herself out of the water.
I knew I had to do something before it was too late. So, using all my willpower, I forced myself to take a step towards her, as she heaved more of her body up onto the bank.
When I got close enough, I did something that I can still remember vividly. I still have nightmares about it. But what choice did I have? It was her or me. Only one of us was going to survive.
I jabbed the witch with the end of the staff. I jabbed her hard and I kept on jabbing her until she finally lost her grip on the bank and was swept away into the darkness.
But it still wasn’t over. What if she managed to get out of the water further downstream? She could still go to Bony Lizzie’s house. I had to make sure that didn’t happen. I knew it was the wrong thing to kill her and that one day she’d probably come back stronger than ever, but I didn’t have a silver chain, so I couldn’t bind her. It was now that mattered, not the future. No matter how hard it was, I knew I had to follow the river into the trees.
Very slowly I began to walk along the riverbank, pausing every five or six steps to listen. All I could hear was the wind sighing faintly through the branches above. It was very dark, with only the occasional thin shaft of moonlight managing to penetrate the leaf canopy, each like a long silver spear embedded in the ground.
The third time I paused, it happened. There was no warning. I didn’t hear a thing. I simply felt it. A hand slithered up onto my boot, and before I could move away, it gripped my left ankle hard.
I felt the strength in that grip. It was as if my ankle was being crushed. When I looked down, all I could see was a pair of red eyes glaring up at me out of the darkness. Terrified, I jabbed down blindly towards the unseen hand that was clutching my ankle.
I was too late. My ankle was jerked violently and I fell to the ground, the impact driving all the breath from my body. What was worse, the staff went flying from my hand, leaving me defenceless.
I lay there for a moment or two, trying to catch my breath, until I felt myself being dragged towards the riverbank. When I heard the splashing, I knew what was happening. Mother Malkin was using me to drag herself out of the river. The witch’s legs were thrashing about in the water and I knew that one of two things would happen: either she’d manage to get out or I’d end up in the river with her.
Desperate to escape, I rolled over to my left, twisting my ankle away. She held on, so I rolled again and came to a halt with my face pressed against the damp earth. Then I saw the staff, its thicker end lying in a shaft of moonlight. It was out of reach, about three or four paces away.
I rolled towards it. Rolled again and again, digging my fingers into the soft earth, twisting my body like a corkscrew. Mother Malkin had a tight grip on my ankle but that was all she had. The lower half of her body was still in the water, so despite her great strength she couldn’t stop me rolling over and twisting her through the water after me.
At last I reached the staff and thrust it hard towards the witch. But her own hand moved into the moonlight and gripped the other end.
I thought it was over then. I thought that was the end of me, but to my surprise Mother Malkin suddenly screamed very loudly. Her whole body became rigid and her eyes rolled up in her head. Then she gave a long, deep sigh and became very still.
We both lay there on the riverbank for what seemed a long time. Only my chest was rising and falling, as I gulped in air; Mother Malkin wasn’t moving at all. When, finally, she did, it wasn’t to take a breath. Very slowly, one hand let go of my ankle and the other released the staff and she slid down the bank into the river, entering the water with hardly a splash. I didn’t know what had happened but she was dead - I was sure of it.
I watched her body being carried away from the bank by the current and swirled right into
the middle of the river. Still lit by the moon, her head went under. She was gone. Dead and gone.
Chapter Ten
Poor Billy
I was so weak afterwards that I fell to my knees, and within moments I was sick - sicker than I’d ever been before. I kept heaving and heaving even when there was nothing but bile coming out of my mouth, heaving until my insides felt torn and twisted.
At last it ended and I managed to stand. Even then, it was a long time before my breathing slowed down and my body stopped trembling. I just wanted to go back to the Spook’s house. I’d done enough for one night, surely?
But I couldn’t - the child was in Lizzie’s house. That was what my instincts told me. The child was the prisoner of a witch who was capable of murder. So I had no choice. There was nobody else but me and if I didn’t help, then who would? I had to set off for Bony Lizzie’s house.
There was a storm surging in from the west, a dark jagged line of cloud that was eating into the stars. Very soon now it would begin to rain, but as I started down the hill towards the house, the moon was still out - a full moon, bigger than I ever remembered it.
It was casting my shadow before me as I went. I watched it grow, and the nearer I got to the house, the bigger it seemed to get. I had my hood up and I was carrying the Spook’s staff in my left hand, so that the shadow didn’t seem to belong to me any more. It moved on ahead of me until it fell upon Bony Lizzie’s house.
I glanced backwards then, half expecting to see the Spook standing behind me. He wasn’t there. It was just a trick of the light. So I went on until I’d passed through the open gate into the yard.
I paused before the front door to think. What if I was too late and the child was already dead? Or what if its disappearance was nothing to do with Lizzie and I was just putting myself in danger for nothing? My mind carried on thinking, but just as it had on the riverbank, my body knew what to do. Before I could stop it, my left hand rapped the staff hard against the wood three times.
For a few moments there was silence, followed by the sound of footsteps and a sudden crack of light under the door.
As the door swung slowly open, I took a step backwards. To my relief it was Alice. She was holding a lantern level with her head so that one half of her face was lit while the other was in darkness.
"What do you want?’ she asked, her voice filled with anger.
‘You know what I want,’ I replied. ‘I’ve come for the child. For the child that you’ve stolen.’
‘Don’t be a fool,’ she hissed. ‘Go away before it’s too late. They’ve gone off to meet Mother Malkin. They could be back any minute.’
Suddenly a child began to cry, a thin wail coming from somewhere inside the house. So I pushed past Alice and went inside.
There was just a single candle flickering in the narrow passageway, but the rooms themselves were in darkness. The candle was unusual. I’d never seen one made of black wax before, but I snatched it up anyway and let my ears guide me to the right room.
I eased open the door. The room was empty of furniture and the child was lying on the floor on a heap of straw and rags.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked, trying my best to smile. I leaned my staff against the wall and moved closer.
The child stopped crying and tottered to its feet, its eyes very wide. ‘Don’t worry. There’s no need to be scared,’ I said, trying to put as much reassurance into my voice as possible. ‘I’m going to take you home to your mam.’
I put the candle on the floor and picked up the child. It smelled as bad as the rest of the room and it was cold and wet. I cradled it with my right arm and wrapped my cloak about it as best I could.
Suddenly the child spoke. ‘I’m Tommy,’ it said. ‘I’m Tommy.’
‘Well, Tommy,’ I said, ‘we’ve got the same name. My name’s Tommy too. You’re safe now. You’re going home.’
With those words, I picked up my staff and went into the passageway and out through the front door. Alice was standing in the yard near the gate. The lantern had gone out, but the moon was still shining, and as I walked towards her, it threw my shadow onto the side of the barn, a giant shadow ten times bigger than I was.
I tried to pass her but she stepped directly into my path so that I was forced to halt.
‘Don’t meddle!’ she warned, her voice almost a snarl, her teeth gleaming white and sharp in the moonlight. ‘Ain’t none of your business, this.’
I was in no mood to waste time arguing with her, and when I moved directly towards her, Alice didn’t try to stop me. She stepped back out of my way and called out after me, ‘You’re a fool. Give it back before it’s too late. They’ll come after you. You’ll never get away.’
I didn’t bother to answer. I never even looked back. I went through the gate and began to climb away from the house.
It started to rain then, hard and heavy, straight into my face. It was the kind of rain that my dad used to call ‘wet rain’. All rain is wet, of course, but some kinds do seem to make a better and a faster job of soaking you than others. This was as wet as it got and I headed back towards the Spook’s house as fast as I could.
I wasn’t sure if I’d be safe even there. What if the Spook really was dead? Would the boggart still guard his house and garden?
Soon I had more immediate things to worry about. I began to sense that I was being followed. The first time I felt it, I came to a halt and listened, but there was nothing but the howling of the wind and the rain lashing into the trees and drumming onto the earth. I couldn’t see much either because it was very dark now.
So I carried on, taking even bigger strides, just hoping that I was still heading in the right direction. Once I came up against a thick, high hawthorn hedge and had to make a long detour to find a gate, all the time feeling that the danger behind was getting closer. It was just after I’d come through a small wood that I knew for certain that there was someone there. Climbing a hill, I paused for breath close to its summit. The rain had eased for a moment and I looked back down into the darkness, towards the trees. I heard the crack and snap of twigs. Someone was moving very fast through the wood towards me, not caring where they put their feet.
At the crest of the hill I looked back once more. The first flash of lightning lit up the sky and the ground below, and I saw two figures come out of the trees and begin to climb the slope. One of them was female, the other shaped like a man, big and burly.
When the thunder crashed again Tommy began to cry. ‘Don’t like thunder!’ he wailed. ‘Don’t like thunder!’
‘Storms can’t hurt you, Tommy,’ I told him, knowing it wasn’t true. They scared me as well. One of my uncles had been struck by lightning when he’d been out trying to get some cattle in. He’d died later. It wasn’t safe being out in the open in weather like this. But although lightning terrified me, it did have its uses. It was showing me the way, each vivid flash lighting up my route back to the Spook’s house.
Soon the breath was sobbing in my throat too, a mixture of fear and exhaustion, as I forced myself to go faster and faster, just hoping that we’d be safe as soon as we entered the Spook’s garden. Nobody was allowed on the Spook’s property unless invited -I kept telling myself that over and over again, because it was our only chance. If we could just get there first the boggart would protect us.
I was in sight of the trees, the bench beneath them, the garden waiting beyond, when I slipped on the wet grass. The fall wasn’t hard but Tommy began to cry even louder. When I’d managed to pick him up, I heard someone running behind me, feet thumping the earth.
I glanced back, struggling for breath. It was a mistake. My pursuer was about five or six paces ahead of Lizzie and catching me fast. Lightning flashed again and I saw the lower half of his face. It looked as if he had horns growing out of each side of his mouth, and as he ran, he moved his head from side to side. I remembered what I’d read in the Spook’s library about the dead women who’d been found with their ribs crushed. If Tusk caught me, h
e’d do the same to me.
For a moment I was rooted to the spot, but he started to make a bellowing sound, just like a bull, and that started me moving again. I was almost running now. I would have sprinted if I could but I was carrying Tommy and I was too weary, my legs heavy and sluggish, the breath rasping in my throat. At any moment I expected to be grabbed from behind, but I passed the bench where the Spook often gave me lessons and then, at last, I was beneath the first trees of the garden.
But was I safe? If I wasn’t it was all over for both of us because there was no way I could outrun Tusk to the house. I stopped running and all I could manage was a few steps before I came to a complete halt, trying to regain my breath.
It was at that moment that something brushed past my legs. I looked down but it was too dark to see anything. First I felt the pressure, then I heard something purr, a deep throbbing sound that made the ground beneath my feet vibrate. I sensed it move on beyond me, towards the edge of the trees, positioning itself between us and those who’d been following. I couldn’t hear any running now, but I heard something else.
Imagine the angry howl of a torn cat multiplied a hundred times. It was a mixture between a throbbing growl and a scream, filling the air with its warning challenge, a sound that could have been heard for miles. It was the most terrifying and threatening sound I’d ever heard and I knew then why the villagers never came anywhere near the Spook’s house. That cry was filled with death.
Cross this line, it said, and I’ll rip out your heart. Cross this line and I’ll gnaw your bones to pulp and gore. Cross this line and you’ll wish you’d never been born.
So for now we were safe. By now Bony Lizzie and Tusk would be running back down the hill. Nobody would be foolish enough to tangle with the Spook’s boggart. No wonder they’d needed me to feed Mother Malkin the blood cakes.