Spook's Secret

    'He did provide for us financially though,' Morgan said. 'I'll give him that. We managed for a while, but then my mother had a breakdown and couldn't cope. Each of us was fostered out to a family. I drew the short straw and ended up with the Hursts. But when I was seventeen, my father came back for me and took me on as his apprentice.

    'For a while, I'd never been happier. I'd wanted a father for so long and now I had one, so I was desperate to please him. I tried really hard at first, but I suppose I couldn't forget what he'd done to my mother, and gradually I began to see through him. After three years he was starting to repeat himself. I already knew everything he did and more besides. I knew I could be better and stronger than him. I'm the seventh son of a seventh son of a seventh son. A three times seven.'

    I heard the note of arrogance in his voice and it annoyed me. 'Is that why you didn't write your name on the bedroom wall at Chipenden like all the other apprentices?' I blurted out. 'Is it because you think you're better than the rest of us? Better than the Spook?'

    Morgan smirked. 'I won't deny it. That's why I left to follow my own path. I'm mainly self-taught but I'm still learning. And I can do things that old fool never even dreams of. Things that he's afraid to try. Think about it! Knowledge and power like mine - and the assurance that your father rests in peace. That's what I'm offering you in return for a little bit of help ...'

    I was astonished by all that Morgan was telling me. If what he said was true, it showed the Spook in a really bad light. I already knew that he'd left Emily Burns for Meg. But now I'd just discovered that he was a father, who'd had seven sons by her but had left them all. I felt hurt inside and let down. I kept thinking about my own dad, who'd stayed with his family and worked hard all his life. And now he could suffer at the whim of Morgan. I was upset and angry. The graveyard seemed to lurch up into the sky and I almost fell.

    'Well, my young apprentice, have you brought it for me?'

    My face must have looked blank.

    'The grimoire, of course. I asked you to bring it to me. I hope you've obeyed me or your poor father will really suffer.'

    'I haven't been able to get it. Mr Gregory has eyes in the back of his head,' I said, hanging my head.

    I certainly wasn't going to tell Morgan that my master was at the mercy of Meg. If he thought the Spook was out the way he might just go and help himself to the grimoire. Yes, my master might have some terrible dark secrets, but I was still his apprentice and I respected him. I needed more time. Time to rescue my master and tell him all about Morgan. Together we'd defeated the stone-chucker; surely together we could stop Morgan.

    'I need more time,' I said. T can do it but I need to wait for an opportunity.'

    'Well, don't take too long about it. Bring the book to me next Tuesday night, soon after sunset. Remember the chapel in the graveyard?'

    I nodded.

    'Well, that's where I'll be waiting.'

    'I don't think I can do it that quickly-'

    'Find a way!' he snarled. 'And do it without Gregory realizing that it's gone.'

    'What will you do with it?' I asked.

    'Well, Tom, when you bring it to me you'll find out, won't you? Don't let me down! If you start to waver, think of your poor father and what he could be made to suffer ...'

    I knew how cruel Morgan could be. I'd seen the way he'd reduced poor Mr Hurst to tears; heard Alice's account of how he'd dragged the old man to his room and locked him inside. If Morgan could hurt my dad, he would do it, I was in no doubt about that.

    And then, as I stood there trembling, right inside my head I heard once again my father's anguished voice as, all around me, the air shivered and moved.

    'Please, son, I'm begging you, do as he asks or I'll be tortured for all eternity. Please, son, just get it for him.'

    As the voice faded away, Morgan smiled grimly. 'Well, you heard what your father said. So you'd better be a dutiful son . ..'

    With that he smiled grimly, turned on his heel and left the graveyard.

    I knew that it was certainly wrong to steal the grimoire for Morgan, but as I watched him go, I knew that I'd no choice. Somehow I'd have to get it as we rescued the Spook.

    

Down to the Cellar

    

    

    When I got back to Andrew's premises, Alice was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. It was ham and eggs and it smelled wonderful.

    'You were out early this morning, Tom,' she said. T was aching after sleeping on the settee,' I lied. 'I needed to stretch my legs a bit.'

    'Well, you'll feel a lot better after your breakfast.' T can't, Alice. It's best to fast when you're about to face the dark.'

    'Can't believe a few mouthfuls would do you that much harm!' she protested.

    I didn't bother to argue. There were things she'd told me about witchcraft that I took with a pinch of salt;

    while there were things the Spook considered to be the gospel truth that brought a smile of derision to her face. So I just kept my silence and watched her and Andrew eat while my mouth watered.

    After breakfast we set off straight away for the Spook's house. It was still mid-morning but the light was deteriorating fast, the sky heavy with dark clouds. It looked like more snow was on the way.

    We left Andrew at the foot of the clough. He was going to wait ten minutes to allow us time to get up onto the moor above the house. Later, after he'd knocked at the door, he'd move away and watch from a distance, hoping to see us emerge and signal our success.

    'Good luck, but don't keep me waiting too long,' Andrew said, 'or I'll freeze to death!'

    I waved goodbye and, carrying the plank and my staff, and with the small crowbar tucked away in the inside pocket of my jacket, set off up the side of the moor. As we trudged upwards, me in the lead and Alice on my heels, the snow crunched under our feet and it was starting to freeze harder. I began to worry about the climb down to the house. It would be slippery and dangerous.

    Soon we started to descend a path into the clough. This path then became a ledge, with the cliff on our left and a sheer drop to our right.

    'Watch your step, Alice!' I warned. It was a long way down. One slip and we'd need scraping up with a spade.

    A few moments later and we came in sight of the house; there we halted. As agreed, we were waiting for the sound of Andrew approaching from the front.

    It was about five minutes before we heard boots crunching through the freezing snow far below. Somewhere down there a very nervous Andrew would be walking round the side of the house and up to the back door. Quickly I stood up and began to carry the plank towards the house. When we arrived at the rear, facing the back window, I knelt down and tried to position the plank. I managed to rest the far end on the window ledge first time. What bothered me was that the ledge wasn't that wide. I was scared that the plank might slip off as I crossed and I'd fall down into the yard below. So it was important that Alice steadied it on the cliff edge.

    'Put your foot on that!' I whispered, indicating the near edge of the plank.

    Alice did as I asked. I hoped it would prevent it from moving. Handing Alice my staff, I knelt on the plank and prepared to crawl across. It wasn't far but I was nervous, and at first my limbs refused to obey me. It was a long way down to the snow-covered flags below. At last I began to crawl along, trying not to look down at the sheer drop. Soon I was kneeling close to the window ledge; once there, I tugged the small crowbar from my jacket pocket and positioned it at the bottom of the window frame. At that very moment Andrew knocked loudly on the back door almost directly below me.