Joseph Delaney - The Spook's Mistake

'When Mr Gilbert met us at the canal, he said you'd gone north to deal with a body found in the water that had been drained of blood like two others before it. Was that the victim of a ripper? Is there another one at large?'

Arkwright stared through the window as if deep in thought and there was quite a delay before he answered. 'No, it was a water witch. Their numbers have been increasing lately. But she was well away by the time I arrived. She'll strike again no doubt, and we'll just have to hope that she takes her next victim a little closer to home so that I'll have time to hunt her down. But it's not just rippers and water witches we have to watch out for. There are skelts to beware of. 'Ever heard of a skelt?' he asked me.

I shook my head.

'It's very rare and lives in crevices, either submerged or close to water. Instead of a flexible tongue, a long hollow bony tube protrudes from its mouth. The tube's sharp and pointed at the end so the creature can suck up the blood of its victims.'

'That sounds awful,' I said.

'Oh, it is,' replied Arkwright. 'But that foul creature's sometimes a victim too. It's occasionally used in water-witch rituals. After it's taken the blood of its victim — one chosen for it by the witches — draining him slowly over a period of days until he breathes his last, the witches dismember the skelt and eat it alive. The blood magic gained is thrice that obtained by the witch draining the victim directly.'

Arkwright suddenly stood up and reached across the sink to seize the big knife on the window ledge. He brought it back to the table.

'I killed a skelt once using this!' he said, placing it before me. 'That blade's got a lot of silver in the alloy, just like the blade on my staff. I took the skelt by surprise and cut its limbs off! A very useful weapon, that. I also caught a young one near this canal less than five years ago. Two in five years suggests that they're increasing in number.'

By now we'd finished our breakfast so Arkwright eased his chair away from the table and patted his belly. 'Did you enjoy the fish, Master Ward?'

I nodded. 'Yes, thanks, it was really good.'

'The leg of a water witch would be even better,' he said. 'You might get to try it before your six months is up.'

My jaw dropped and I stared at him in astonishment. He ate witches?

But then he burst out laughing. 'Just my sense of humour, Master Ward. Even roasted to perfection I wouldn't touch a witch's leg with a barge pole. Mind you, my dogs wouldn't be so fussy — as you might find out one day!'

I wondered where he kept his dogs. I'd neither seen nor heard them.

'But it's water witches that are the worst problem in these parts,' Arkwright went on. 'Unlike other witches they can cross water — especially stagnant water. They can stay under the surface for hours at a time without breathing; they bury themselves in the mud or marsh, waiting for an unsuspecting victim to walk by. Would you like to see one, Master Ward?'

In the summer the Spook and I had been to Pendle and fought the three main witch clans there. It had been hard and we'd been lucky to survive so I'd had my fill of witches for a while. It must have shown on my face, because when I nodded, Arkwright gave a little smile.

'You don't look very enthusiastic, Master Ward. Don't you worry. She won't bite. I've got her safe and sound, as you'll soon see! I'll give you a tour of the mill and show you the witch, but first let's sort out your sleeping arrangements. Follow me!'

He left the kitchen and I followed him up the stairs and into the single bedroom with the bare mattress. I thought he was going to confirm that this would be my room, but instead he dragged the mattress from the bed.

'Let's get this downstairs!' he said briskly, and together we carried it down to the kitchen. That done, he went back up, returning immediately with a bundle of sheets and blankets.

'They're a bit on the damp side,' he said, 'but they'll soon dry out in this kitchen and then we'll get them back up to your room again. Well now, I've got a few things to do upstairs, but I'll be back within the hour. In the meantime, why don't you write up your first lesson on water witches and skelts? You have brought your notebook with you?'

I nodded.

'Well, go and get it then!' he ordered.

Sensing his impatience, I rummaged in my bag and brought the notebook back to the table, along with my pen and a small bottle of ink, while Arkwright went upstairs.

I wrote up everything I could remember about my first lesson and wondered what Arkwright was doing for so long upstairs. At one point I thought I heard him talking to someone. But after less than an hour he came down, and as he passed by, I smelled wine on his breath. Then, holding a lantern aloft and gripping his staff in his left hand, he led the way into the room I'd first entered.

Apart from the absence of the candlestick, which I'd taken into the kitchen, it was just as before: a chair in each corner, crates and empty wine bottles, the solitary table and three boarded-up windows. But the brighter light from the lantern revealed something I hadn't noticed previously.

To the right of the outer door was a trapdoor. Arkwright handed his staff to me, bent down, and with his free hand grasped the iron ring and pulled it open. Wooden steps led down into the darkness and there was the sound of the stream rushing over its bed of pebbles.

'Well, Master Ward,' Arkwright said, 'usually it's safe enough but I've been away from home for six days so anything could have happened in the meantime. Stay close — just in case.'

With that, he started to descend and I followed him down into a deeper gloom, carrying his staff, which was far heavier than the ones I was used to. A stink of damp and rotten wood assailed my nostrils, and I found myself standing not in a flagged cellar, but in mud on the bank of the stream. To our left stood the huge arc of the static waterwheel.

'I thought I heard that wheel turning last night,' I murmured. I was sure it hadn't really turned and was all part of the strange haunting; something that had happened in the past. But I was curious and half hoped that Arkwright might tell me what was going on.

Instead he glared at me and I could see the anger rising red in his face. 'Does it look like it's capable of moving?' he shouted.

I shook my head and took a step backwards. Arkwright cursed under his breath, turned his back on me and led us under the mill, bowing his head as he walked.

Soon we came to a square pit and Arkwright halted with the toes of his big boots actually hanging over its edge. He beckoned me forward and I stood at his side but kept my own toes well clear. It was a witch pit with thirteen iron bars so there was no danger of falling in. That didn't mean you were entirely safe though. A witch could reach up through the bars and grasp your ankle. Some were very fast and strong and could move faster than you could blink your eye. I wasn't taking any chances.

'A water witch can burrow, Master Ward, so we have to thwart that. Although you can only see the top row of bars, this is effectively a cage in the shape of a cube with the other five surfaces buried in the earth.'

That was something I was already familiar with. The Spook used that type of cage to confine lamia witches, which were also adept at burrowing.

Arkwright held the lantern out over the pit. 'Look down and tell me what you see. '

I could see water reflecting the light, but at the side of the pit was a narrow muddy shelf. There was something on it but I couldn't quite make it out. It seemed to be half buried in the mud.

'I can't see it properly,' I admitted.

He sighed impatiently and held out his hand for his staff. 'Well, it takes a trained eye. In bad light you could step on a creature like this without realizing it. It would fasten its teeth into you and drag you down to a watery grave within seconds. Maybe this'll help. '