Joseph Delaney - The Spook

Just before noon I carried Tommy down to the village. The men were already back from the Long Ridge, and when I went to the butcher’s house, the instant he saw the child, his weary frown turned into a broad smile. I briefly explained what had happened, only going into as much detail as was necessary.

Once I’d finished, he frowned again. ‘They need sorting out once and for all,’ he said.

I didn’t stay long. After Tommy had been given to his mother and she’d thanked me for the fifteenth time, it became obvious what was going to happen. By then, about thirty or so of the village men had gathered. Some of them were carrying clubs and stout sticks and they were muttering angrily about ‘stoning and burning’.

I knew that something had to be done but I didn’t want to be a part of it. Despite all that had happened, I couldn’t stand the thought of Alice being hurt, so I went for a walk on the fells for an hour or so to clear my head, before walking slowly back towards the Spook’s house. I’d decided to sit on the bench for a while and enjoy the afternoon sun, but someone was there already.

It was the Spook. He was safe after all! Until that moment I’d avoided thinking about what I was going to do next. I mean, how long would I have stayed in his house before deciding that he wasn’t going to come back? Now it was all sorted out because there he was, staring across the trees to where a plume of brown smoke was rising. They were burning Bony Lizzie’s house.

When I got close to the bench, I noticed a big, purple bruise over his left eye. He saw me glance at it and gave me a tired smile.

‘We make a lot of enemies in this job,’ he said, ‘and sometimes you need eyes in the back of your head. Still, things didn’t work out too badly because now we’ve one less enemy to worry about near Pendle. Take a pew,’ he said, patting the bench at his side. ‘What have you been up to? Tell me what’s been happening here. Start at the beginning and finish at the end, leaving nothing out.’

So I did. I told him everything. When I’d finished he stood up and looked down at me, his green eyes staring into mine very hard.

‘I wish I’d known Lizzie was back. When I put Mother Malkin into the pit, Lizzie left in a bit of a hurry and I didn’t think she’d ever have the nerve to show her face again. You should have told me about meeting the girl. It would have saved everybody a lot of trouble.’

I looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

‘What was the worst thing that happened?’ he asked.

The memory came back, sharp and clear, of the old witch grabbing my boot and trying to drag herself out of the water. I remembered her scream as she gripped the end of the Spook’s staff.

When I told him about it, he sighed long and deep.

‘Are you sure she was dead?’ he asked.

I shrugged. ‘She wasn’t breathing. Then her body was carried to the middle of the river and swept away.’

‘Well, it was a bad business, all right,’ he said, ‘and the memory of it will stay with you for the rest of your life, but you’ll just have to live with it. You were lucky in taking the smallest of my staffs with you. That’s what saved you in the end. It’s made of rowan, the most effective wood of all when dealing with witches. It wouldn’t usually have bothered a witch that old and that strong, but she was in running water. So you were lucky, but you did all right for a new apprentice. You showed courage, real courage, and you saved a child’s life. But you made two more serious mistakes.’

I bowed my head. I thought I’d probably made more than two but I wasn’t going to argue.

‘Your most serious mistake was in killing that witch,’ the Spook said. ‘She should have been brought back here. Mother Malkin is so strong that she could even break free of her bones. It’s very rare but it can happen. Her spirit could be born into this world again, complete with all her memories. Then she’d come looking for you, lad, and she’d want revenge.’

‘That would take years though, wouldn’t it?’ I asked.

‘A newborn baby can’t do much. She’d have to grow up first.’

"That’s the worst part of it,’ the Spook said. ‘It could happen sooner than you think. Her spirit could seize someone else’s body and use it as her own. It’s called " possession " and it’s a bad business for everybody concerned. After that, you’ll never know when, and from which direction, the danger will come.

‘She might possess the body of a young woman, a lass with a dazzling smile, who’ll win your heart before she takes your life. Or she might use her beauty to bend some strong man to her will, a knight or a judge, who’ll have you thrown into a dungeon where you’ll be at her mercy. Then again, time will be on her side. She might attack when I’m not here to help -maybe years from now when you’re long past your prime, when your eyesight’s failing and your joints are starting to creak.

‘But there’s another type of possession – one that’s more likely in this case. Much more likely. You see, lad, there’s a problem with keeping a live witch in a pit like that. Especially one so powerful who’s spent her long life practising blood magic. She’ll have been eating worms and other slithery things, with the wet constantly soaking into her flesh. So in the same way that a tree can slowly be petrified and turned into rock, her body will have been slowly starting to change. Gripping the rowan staff would have stopped her heart, pushing her over the barrier into death, and being washed away by the river might have speeded up the process.

‘In this case, she’ll still be bound to her bones, like most other malevolent witches, but because of her great strength she’ll be able to move her dead body. You see, lad, she’ll be what we call "wick". It’s an old County word that you’re no doubt familiar with. Just as a head of hair can be wick with lice, her dead body is now wick with her wicked spirit. It’ll be heaving like a bowl of maggots and she’ll crawl, slither or drag herself towards her chosen victim. And instead of being hard, like a petrified tree, her dead body will be soft and pliable, able to squeeze into the tiniest space. Able to ooze up someone’s nose or into their ear and possess their body.

‘There are only two ways to make sure that a witch as powerful as Mother Malkin can’t come back. The first is to burn her. But nobody should have to suffer pain like that. The other way is too horrible even to think about. It’s a method few have heard about because it was practised long ago, in a land far away over the sea. According to their ancient books, if you eat the heart of a witch she can never return. And you have to eat it raw.

‘If we practise either method, we’re no better than the witch we kill,’ said the Spook. ‘Both are barbaric. The only alternative left is the pit. That’s cruel as well, but we do it to protect the innocents, those who’d be her future victims. Well, lad, one way or the other, now she’s free. There’s trouble ahead for sure, but there’s little we can do about it now. We’ll just have to be on our guard.’

‘I’ll be all right,’ I said. ‘I’ll manage somehow.’

‘Well, you’d better start by learning how to manage a boggart,’ the Spook said, shaking his head sadly.

‘That was your other big mistake. A whole Sunday off every week? That’s far too generous! Anyway, what should we do about that?’ he asked, gesturing towards a thin plume of smoke that was still just visible to the south-east.

I shrugged. ‘I suppose it’ll be all over by now,’ I said. ‘There were a lot of angry villagers and they were talking about stoning.’

‘All over with? Don’t you believe it, lad. A witch like Lizzie has a sense of smell better than any hunting dog. She can sniff out things before they happen and would’ve been gone long before anyone got near. No, she’ll have fled back to Pendle, where most of the brood live. We should follow now, but I’ve been on the road for days and I’m too weary and sore and need to gather my strength. But we can’t leave Lizzie free for too long or she’ll start to work her mischief again. I’ll have to go after her before the end of the week and you’ll be coming with me. It won’t be easy but you might as well get used to the idea. But first things first, so follow me…’