Joseph Delaney - The Spook's Mistake

'What do you seek here, child? Your death?' she demanded, opening her black-painted lips to show her pointed teeth again. 'The Fiend's daughter is close. Within minutes she'll be here.'

I shook my head. 'I've no choice. The Fiend made me come here, otherwise he'll kill my master, Alice and Arkwright. If I slay his daughter, he'll spare their lives.'

She laughed softly. 'You're brave,' she said, 'but foolish. Why try to fight her here? Water is her element. If you begin to win, she'll flee deeper into the marsh where you can't reach her. And give her half a chance and she'll drag you into the water. No! This isn't the way. We must lure her onto higher, drier ground. I've seen you run and you're fast, almost as fast as me. But how sure are your feet over this terrain? Now, if you are to survive, you must match me step for step.'

Without another word, she turned and began to run down the path that would take us deeper into the marsh. I followed at her heels, running faster and faster across the treacherous ground. Once I almost lost my footing and came close to falling into the bog; on two occasions Grimalkin began to pull away from me into the mist, and only by making a huge effort did I manage to keep her within sight.

At last we began to climb out of the marsh. Ahead was a small rounded hill with the ruin of a small abbey at its summit. It was Monks' Hill. Three stunted sycamores grew amongst the rubble. In places hardly a stone stood upon a stone, but Grimalkin led us to a low wall and we settled down with our backs to it so that we could gaze down upon the swamplands. Above us the moon shone from a cloudless sky, lighting the ruins and the hillside to a silver.

We were above the mist, which now lay undulating below, obscuring the marsh and the path. We were sitting upon an island rising up from a calm sea composed of white cloud. For a long time we didn't speak. After my exertions I was happy just to allow my breathing to return to normal and it was the witch assassin who spoke first.

'It is to Alice Deane that you should give thanks that you don't face your enemy here alone.'

I turned towards Grimalkin in astonishment. 'Alice?' I asked.

'Yes, your friend Alice. Afraid that the Fiend and his daughter were about to slay you, she summoned me north to come to your aid. We've been in contact many times during the past month. Mostly by mirror.'

'Alice used a mirror to contact you ?'

'Of course, child. How else do witches communicate over long distances? I was surprised at first but she persisted and slowly won me round. How could I refuse one whose mother was a Malkin? Especially when our cause is now the same.'

'So did you come looking for me on the island?'

'You or the Fiend's daughter. But I was never on that island until we spoke. I watched you from the mainland shore, saw the witches preparing to enter the water and warned you. I'd been watching you for days. John Gregory wouldn't welcome my presence so I kept my distance.'

'The Fiend expects me to face her alone. Will he know that you're here?'

Grimalkin shrugged. 'He might. He can't see everything, but when his daughter sees me, then he will know.'

'So won't he intervene? He could appear right here, up on this hill.'

'That's something you needn't fear. He'll keep his distance. Where I am you won't see him.'

'You're able to make him keep away?'

'Yes — because of what I did years ago.'

'What was that? Alice has been trying to find the means to keep him away. How's it done? Did you use a blood jar? Or have you hobbled him in some way?'

'There may well be more than one way but I chose the most usual method for a witch. I bore him a child—'

'You had a child by the Fiend?' I asked in astonishment.

'Why not? That's what some witches do — if they have the nerve for it. And if they're desperate enough to be free of his power. Give him a child and, later, after his first visit to see his offspring, he must leave you alone. Most children of the Fiend and a witch are either monsters or other witches. The mother of the one we face was the witch Grismalde. They say she was very beautiful but dwelt in mud caverns and roamed the darkest bowels of the earth and so stank accordingly. But the Devil's tastes are sometimes strange.

'Yet by some chance my own body managed to cheat him. My child was neither monster nor witch. He was perfectly human, a beautiful baby boy. But when the Fiend saw him, he was beside himself with anger. He picked up my child, his son, and dashed out his brains against a rock. The blood of that innocent bought my freedom but it was a high price to pay.

'After his death I was a little mad with grief. But the trade that I then chose saved me. Through the cruelty demanded of a witch assassin, I found myself again. Time has passed and memories fade but what the Fiend did can never be forgotten. There are two reasons why I fight by your side tonight. The first is because of my need for revenge. The second is because Alice Deane asked me to protect you against Morwena. Tonight we'll begin by slaying the Fiend's daughter.'

For a few moments I turned over in my mind what Grimalkin had just told me. But suddenly she placed her finger against her lips to indicate the need for silence and stood up.

Almost immediately the eerie cry of the corpsefowl echoed over the marsh. Seconds later the plaintive cry came again, much louder and nearer. I heard the beating of wings as a large bird flew straight up out of the mist, gaining height as it approached. It had seen us: now the Fiend's daughter would know exactly where we were.

Grimalkin reached into a leather sheath and drew forth a knife with a short blade. In one smooth powerful movement she hurled it at the bird. End over end it spun. The creature twisted away too late. The blade buried itself deep in its breast, and with a loud wailing screech the corpsefowl fell into the sea of mist, to be lost from view.

'I rarely miss,' Grimalkin said with a grim smile, settling herself down on my left again. 'But I missed when I hurled my long knife at you. Or rather, it was on target but then you plucked it from the air. The Fiend tampers with time, slowing, stopping or speeding it up to meet his needs. But I think that night you did it too. Just a little but enough to make a difference.'

She was referring to our meeting in the summer, when she'd hunted and caught me on the edge of Hangman's Wood as I was fleeing to the refuge of my mam's room. After pinning her shoulder to a tree with the Spook's staff, I'd turned to run but she'd thrown her knife at the back of my head. I'd turned to watch it spin end over end as it sped towards me through the air, then reached up and caught it, saving my own life. Time had indeed seemed to slow, but never for one moment had I thought that I might be responsible.

'Stand up now,' Grimalkin commanded, her voice sharp. 'It's almost time. The moment of danger is close. Very soon our enemies will be here.'

'Enemies?' I asked. 'Is there more than one?

'Of course, child. The Fiend's daughter will not be alone. She has called others to her aid. Water witches from far and wide are converging upon this hillock. They have been approaching since dark. The struggle is imminent.'

It was time to face the witches. Soon, one way or the other, it would be over.

We stood up and went a little way down the slope. 'That night, you also missed,' Grimalkin said. 'You missed me with your chain. Will you miss your target again tonight?'

Back in the summer, I'd hurled my chain at her but cast wide. It had been a difficult shot and I'd been terrified and exhausted. Would I be more successful tonight against the Fiend's daughter?

'I'll do my best,' I told her.