The Spook's Blood (Wardstone Chronicles) (29 page)

Now was the time to finish him. While he was writhing in torment, I swung the sword at his neck again. But just when I thought I had prevailed, it all went wrong. The god was far from being finished – as I learned to my cost.

His clawed foot arced upwards as if to disembowel me. In avoiding it, I left myself vulnerable to a strike from his left hand, which almost tore my arm from its socket. The pain brought me to my knees. Even worse, the Destiny Blade went spinning out of my grasp.

Siscoi hurled himself at me, still spitting blood. I just had time to draw Bone Cutter and stab at him. I pierced his chest in two places, but he picked me up like a child and carried me towards his open mouth.

His fangs plunged into my neck, but I felt little pain. He began to suck out my blood, and I could feel it throbbing through my veins, the pumping of my heart becoming more and more sluggish.

My situation seemed hopeless but, remembering what Grimalkin had told me, I fought on. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to see Alice again, and my family too. The future I had looked forward to – my life as a spook – was being taken away. I struggled to break free, desperately stabbing at the vampire god; but the dagger seemed to have no effect, and soon I was too weak to hold it. It slipped from my fingers, and I felt my heart thudding ever more slowly. I was sinking towards death.

Then I heard a loud scream. Had I cried out? Or had it issued from Siscoi’s throat? Never had I heard a sound that was so full of anguish. It was as if the very earth had screamed out in agony.

Then I was falling into utter darkness.

My last thoughts were of Alice.

My last words, spoken inside my head, were to Mam:

I’m sorry, Mam. Sorry for being a disappointment. I did my best. Try not to think too badly of me
.

I waited in darkness for what seemed like an eternity. My heart was no longer beating; I was no longer breathing – but I felt no fear. I was at peace, all my cares and struggles left far behind.

Then I heard a sound that I remembered from my childhood: it was the creak of a rocking chair. I saw a glowing figure taking shape out of the darkness.

It was Mam – not the terrible lamia, but the kind, loving mother I remembered. She was sitting in her chair, smiling at me, rocking to and fro as she used to when she was happy and relaxed.

‘You are all I ever hoped you would be,’ she said. ‘Forgive my harsh words earlier. They were necessary at the time. I’m proud of you, son.’

What ‘harsh words’ did she mean? I felt confused. Where was I? Was I dead?

Still smiling, Mam faded back into the darkness. Now another figure was emerging. It was a girl with pointy shoes, her black dress tied at the waist with a piece of string. Alice.

‘I’ve come to say goodbye, Tom. Don’t really want to go, but I don’t have much choice, do I? Wait for me, Tom, please. Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up!’ she said.

Where was she going? I tried to ask, but she faded away before I could get the words out.

The next thing I knew I was lying in bed. I was breathing again and my heart was beating steadily. The curtains were open, but it was dark outside. I realized that I was back in my room at the tavern in Todmorden. A candle stood on a small table nearby, and by its flickering light I saw someone sitting beside the bed, staring down at me.

It was Grimalkin.

‘At last you are back,’ she said. ‘You’ve been unconscious for three days and nights. Despite all that Alice did to heal your body, I feared that your mind might be broken beyond repair.’

I struggled up into a sitting position. I was drenched with sweat and I felt weak. But I was alive.

‘What happened?’ I asked. ‘I did my best. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t strong enough. Did you manage to finish him off?’

The witch assassin shook her head. ‘No – he was already
dead
by the time I climbed down to carry you back to safety.’

‘He was taking my blood, but I kept fighting to the end, stabbing him with the dagger. I must have got lucky and pierced his heart.’

‘That didn’t finish him off,’ Grimalkin told me. ‘It was your blood.’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t understand  . . . ’

‘Your blood proved to be a weapon – very special spook’s blood; the blood of a seventh son of a seventh son, blended with that of your mother, the first and most powerful of all the lamias. To the vampire god it was a deadly poison – just as your mother knew it would be. She appeared to Alice soon after Siscoi died and told her as much.’

I suddenly remembered how he’d appeared clothed in Cosmina’s skin – he could still possess other creatures briefly. ‘He’ll be seeking revenge!’ I told Grimalkin. ‘He’ll be back. We’re still in danger.’

The witch assassin shook her head. ‘Siscoi is no longer a threat. You did not merely destroy the host; you slew the vampire god himself. A terrible scream soared out of the ground up into the heavens. Your mother told Alice that it was the very dark itself, crying out in anguish at the loss of one of the most powerful Old Gods. You have weakened our enemies. The head of the Fiend has fallen silent again and there is no way to get a response out of him – and believe me, I have been anything but gentle.’

It was astonishing to think that my blood had resulted in the death of Siscoi. Mam would have known about it all along. But
a
price had been paid. James was probably dead, and the Fiend had ordered his servants to kill my other brothers.

‘He’ll try again,’ I said. ‘He said that his servants were more numerous than the stars. He’ll never give up!’

‘So we must make an end of him!’

I nodded. ‘Did you get the
Doomdryte
?’ I asked.

‘When I went to burn the Fresque house the library was empty. There were no books. No
Doomdryte
. But I burned the place anyway.’

‘Then our enemies must have it  . . . ’

‘We must assume so.’

So that was another threat; something to face in the future.

‘Where is Alice?’ I asked.

‘Alice has gone into the dark,’ Grimalkin said. ‘She has gone in search of the third sacred object.’

It was almost two weeks before I was strong enough to return to Chipenden. During that time Grimalkin cleansed the hillside of the rest of the Romanian entities. Those she didn’t kill fled from her. She burned their houses too, with the bodies inside. None would return from the dead. But although she searched for the
Doomdryte
, there was no sign of it.

The County side of Todmorden was also empty, its inhabitants all gone. Somehow I didn’t think that they’d be in a hurry to return.

We could have used Benson and his cart again, but I chose to walk, using the journey to re-build my strength, bit by bit. It took me almost three days to get home.

Grimalkin accompanied me, and each night we talked and discussed our plans for the future. It depended on Alice returning from the dark with the third sacred object in her possession. The thought of her there kept me in a permanent state of anxiety. The worst thing was being powerless – I could do nothing to help her.

It was during the first of our talks that the witch assassin delivered another shock to me.

‘Alice knows that you must sacrifice her, Tom,’ she said bluntly.

For a few moments I stopped breathing and stared into the embers of the fire. ‘How
could
she know?’ I asked at last.

‘As I told you, her magic is very strong. Alice scryed it.’

‘Did she see herself die?’ I asked, my heart pounding.

‘She saw you preparing to take her life, but then the mirror darkened.’

‘Darkened? That’s good, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘It means the future is still uncertain. Alice once told me that – she said when there are too many variables, the future cannot be foretold so the mirror grows dark.’

‘There is another reason for that. A witch cannot scry her own death. But I must know – are you prepared to sacrifice Alice in order to destroy the Fiend?’

‘I don’t know if I’m capable of it,’ I answered truthfully. ‘I care about Alice too much. How could I sacrifice her?’

‘I have talked it over with Alice. If we can find no other way, she will willingly die at your hands.’

‘We
must
find another way!’

‘We will certainly try, but time grows short. It is already June.’

We arrived at Chipenden to find the Spook little better. He was walking more easily, but he still looked frail, a shadow of the man who had taken me on as his apprentice.

Later that afternoon we talked, sitting at the kitchen table, watching the fire flickering in the grate. I found it too warm, but my master clutched his cloak about him tightly, as if to fend off the cold.

First we talked of the
Doomdryte
. ‘Who knows where it is now,’ he said gloomily. ‘In the hands of the Fiend’s servants, no doubt. The danger is that someone will attempt the incantation.’

‘They are unlikely to be successful though,’ I told him in an attempt to raise his spirits – although in truth I felt very low myself: my brother was surely dead, and there was no certainty that I would ever see Alice again. Even if she did return, further horror and heartache lay ahead.

‘That’s true, lad. Do you remember what I wrote in my Bestiary about it?’

I frowned. ‘Some of it,’ I said uncertainly. ‘I know the incantation is hard to complete.’

‘Some of it! That’s not good enough, lad! You need to be up to the mark. It’s vital that you start to think and act like a spook. Come with me!’ he said, rising from his chair immediately.

My master led the way to his new library. He climbed the stairs slowly but was out of breath by the time we reached the door.

‘There!’ he said, pushing it open to reveal what lay within. ‘What do you think?’

There was a smell of new wood, and I saw row upon row of empty shelves. ‘It’s great,’ I said. ‘Full of promise. All it needs now is books, and lots of them, and then we can call it a library!’

I smiled as I spoke, and the Spook smiled back; he had not lost his sense of humour. He led me to a row of shelves opposite the window. On the middle one, leaning against each other for support, were the first three books in the new library. I read the titles:
The Spook’s Bestiary; A History of the Dark; The Pendle Witches
.

My master had begun the second two while we were refugees on the Isle of Mona. He had completed both before we left Ireland to return to the County.

He lifted the Bestiary and placed it in my hands. ‘Read what it says about the
Doomdryte
!’

I flicked through until I reached the right place. ‘There’s not much here,’ I said.

‘There’s enough, lad. Read the whole section on grimoires aloud.’

‘
These are ancient books, full of spells and rituals, used to invoke the dark
,’ I began. ‘
Sometimes they are employed by witches, but they are mainly used by mages, and their spells have to be followed to the letter, or death can result
.

‘
Many of these famous texts have been lost (the
Patrixa
and the
Key of Solomon).
The most dangerous and powerful grimoires, however, were written in the Old Tongue by the first men of the County.
Primarily
used to summon daemons, these books contain terrible dark magic. Most have been deliberately destroyed or hidden far from human sight
.

‘
The most mysterious and reputedly most deadly of these is the
Doomdryte.
Some believe that this book was dictated word for word by the Fiend to a mage called Lukrasta. That grimoire contains just one long dark magic incantation. If successfully completed (in conjunction with certain rituals), it would allow a mage to achieve immortality, invulnerability and god-like powers
.

‘
Fortunately no one has ever succeeded as it requires intense concentration and great endurance: the book takes thirteen hours to read aloud, and you cannot pause for rest
.

‘
One word mispronounced brings about the immediate death of the mage. Lukrasta was the first to attempt the ritual and the first to die. Others followed in his foolish footsteps
.

‘
We must hope that the
Doomdryte
remains lost for ever
—’

‘That’s enough, lad,’ the Spook interrupted. ‘So you see the danger? The Romanian entities used only the power emanating from the book to feed their illusions. What if the book was used in the way it was intended?’

I shrugged. ‘It seems unlikely to me that anyone could successfully complete that ritual.’

‘How unlikely? The Fiend and his servants grow ever more desperate, and that means desperate measures will be employed. I’m worried about that book, and you should be too, lad! It might be somewhere in the County. The threat is very close.’

‘Well, talking of books, I’ve got something to add to your
collection
!’ I said. I opened my bag and handed him three books. They were the notebooks I’d kept during the first three years of my apprenticeship.

‘Thanks, lad,’ he said. ‘This is the right place for them. And you’ll be able to come in here and consult them whenever you feel the need.’