Joseph Delaney - The Spook's Mistake

'All I have to do is clench my fist, Tom, that's all — her head will be crushed like an eggshell. Should I do it now? Do you need to see how easy it is for me?'

'No! Please!' I cried out. 'Don't hurt her. Don't hurt any of them. I'll go to the marsh. I'll go right now!'

I lurched to my feet, snatched up my staff and moved towards the door. There I paused and looked back at my enemy. What if I released the blade in my staff and attacked him? Would I have a chance? But it would be futile and I knew it. The instant I moved towards him I'd be frozen in time again, just as helpless as the Spook, Alice and Arkwright.

I nodded towards them. 'If I survive, or I win.? Will you let them live?'

The Fiend smiled. 'If you win, they will live — at least for a while. If you die, I will kill them too. So you fight for the lives of these three as well as your own.'

I knew my chances of defeating the Fiend's daughter on the marsh were slim. How could my staff and chain be strong enough against her powers? And Alice, the Spook and Arkwright would die with me. But there was something I might achieve before that happened. One last thing to be bought with my death. It was certainly worth a try.

'One more thing,' I said. 'Give me that and I'll go to the marsh now. Life is short and everybody has to die sometime but it's a terrible thing to be tormented afterwards. Arkwright's mam and dad have suffered enough — whether I win or lose, will you release Amelia's soul so that they can both go to the light?'

'Win or lose? You drive a hard bargain, Tom.'

'No harder than the task you set me. You expect me to die. That's what you want. Is that fair? At least give me what I ask so it won't all have been for nothing.'

He stared hard at me for a moment and then his face relaxed. He'd made his decision. 'Then so be it. I'll grant your wish.'

Without a backward glance, I left the kitchen, ran through the other room and out into the night. As I moved further into the garden I felt a change. Outside the house, time was moving forward normally. But it wasn't a good night to venture out onto the marsh.

A thick mist had descended: the visibility was down to about ten paces. Overhead, the orb of the moon was just visible, so there wasn't much depth to the mist; but that wouldn't help me on the marsh, where the land was low and flat. How I wished I could have Claw with me but I assumed she was frozen in time like the others.

I paused on the edge of the moat and took a deep breath. Once across it, I would face the Fiend's daughter. She would be waiting out there; the darkness and mist would be to her advantage. I advanced onto the marsh cautiously. It was a pity I'd only practised being hunted by the dogs once, otherwise I'd now know the meandering paths much better.

Deep, stagnant water or treacherous bog lay on either side of the paths. I'd seen the way Morwena leaped out of the water like a salmon. I had to be prepared for a similar attack now. The threat might come from either side of any path I trod. As for weapons, I had my staff and I now felt in the pocket of my cloak and my fingers closed over the silver chain. It was reassuring to feel it there. Finally I had salt and iron, but that could only be used as a last resort, when staff and chain were no longer an option and both hands were free.

Suddenly an eerie sound echoed over the marsh. It was the unmistakable cry of the corpsefowl, the witch's familiar. She had an extra pair of eyes free to soar into the sky; the bird would be searching for me now. No doubt the Fiend had already told his daughter that I was on my way. The bird's cry had come from the west, somewhere close to the mere where I'd met Morwena and been hooked through the ear. So I took the most southerly of the paths available to me. I didn't want to meet the witch there, near the deep water.

Despite the slippery ground, I began to walk faster, growing more and more nervous with each step. Then, suddenly, I saw something ahead. There was a body lying on the path. I didn't want to retrace my steps so I approached it cautiously: it might be a trap of some sort. But it was a man lying face down with his head twisted to the left. He was quite dead. His throat was torn out just like the one near the mill. He was wearing a uniform — it was another of the press gang.

The Fiend's daughter might be close by now, ready to attack, so I moved on quickly. I'd been on the path for no more than two or three more minutes when I heard another sound, directly ahead. What was it? Not the corpsefowl this time. I halted and peered into the mist. All I could see was large clumps of reed and the faint line of the path twisting through them. So I continued more slowly this time.

I heard it again and halted immediately — it was a sort of croaking cry followed by a gurgle. It sounded as though someone were in pain. As if they were choking. I advanced a step at a time, my staff at the ready, until I could just make out a horizontal shape on the path ahead. Was it somebody creeping towards me? Two more steps and I could see that it wasn't moving. It looked like a long bundle of rags. Was it another of the soldiers? Then I saw it more clearly.

There was a witch on the path, lying on her back, one hand trailing in the water. Her eyes and mouth were wide open: the former were fixed and staring but looking up at the sky, not towards me; the mouth showed the four long, sharp canines of a water witch. Was it the one who'd escaped from the pit under the mill? Was she hurt — or dead?

I hesitated. I was very close to her now. What if she was only pretending? Just waiting until I got close enough for her to grab hold of me? And then a voice spoke to me out of the darkness; one that I recognized only too well.

'Well, child, we meet again!'

My knees turned to water. Beyond the body, facing me, was Grimalkin.

Now she would get her revenge. Perhaps she'd saved me in the folly just so that she could savour this moment. I wished the ground would swallow me up. I feared the snip-snip of those terrible scissors. I eased the silver chain out of the pocket of my cloak and readied it. I'd missed her last time but I'd been exhausted and I'd cast on the run. My left hand was shaking with nerves but I forced myself to breathe evenly. I would be brave like my master, the Spook. Even if I died, I could still be brave. I could do it. I'd trained long and hard for this moment.

I looked her in the eye and prepared to throw. She wasn't like Morwena and at least I could look into her face. It was a beautiful face but stern and cruel and her mouth was slightly open, the lips painted black.

And I could see the savage teeth that she'd filed to sharp, cruel points.

'Put away your chain, child,' she said softly. 'I've not come for you. This night we fight together against our enemy.'

It was only then that I noticed that she brandished no weapon — all her blades were sheathed.

I lowered my chain. I believed her. After all, she'd warned me about the water witches in the tunnel, then helped me fight them off. My mam had always told me to trust my instincts and I felt that Grimalkin was telling the truth. It seemed to me that this was to our advantage. Despite what the Spook had said, if the dark fought against the dark, it would surely be weakened.

Grimalkin pointed down at the dead body of the witch. 'Don't worry, child,' she said softly. 'She won't bite. Just step over her body. Hurry. We have little time!'

I stepped over the witch and ten more paces brought me face to face with the assassin. As before, she was bristling with weapons, the sheaths carrying knives of various sizes, not to mention the scissors. But there were two changes: her hair was pulled back tightly from her brow and tied at the nape of her neck with a black silk scarf; secondly, she was very dirty, her face and bare arms and legs streaked with mud, and she stank of marsh slime.