Meg smiled. 'Take your soup, boy.'
I bent down, lifted the bowl from the tray and helped myself to one of the spoons. When I stood upright, Meg waved me back and started to pull the cell door shut.
'A good try, boy,' she said, 'but how long would it be before you took advantage and tried to free your master? Not long, I'll bet!'
Meg locked the door. My first plan had failed already. I'd no choice now but to try the second. I put my bowl of soup on the floor and pulled my key from my pocket. I could hear Meg already turning her own key in the lock of the Spook's cell. I waited, taking a chance, hoping against hope.
I was right! She went straight into the Spook's cell. I'd guessed that he might be too weak or groggy to be able to stand and come to the door. She might even be going to feed him herself. So, wasting no time, I unlocked my own door, pushed it carefully open and stepped outside. Mercifully it didn't stick and make a noise this time.
I'd thought everything through carefully, weighing all the risks in my mind. One option would have been to go straight into the Spook's cell and try to deal with Meg. Under normal circumstances, together, my master and I might have been a match for her, but I suspected that the Spook would be too weak to help. And we had nothing to fight her with: no rowan staff and no chain.
So I'd decided to go and get the silver chain from my bag in the study and try to bind Meg. To achieve that, I was counting on two things. One was that the feral lamia wouldn't scamper up the steps and catch me before I got through the iron gate. The second was that Meg hadn't locked the gate after her. That's why I'd been concentrating hard. The gate had clanged and the heels had started clicking downwards almost immediately afterwards. She hadn't had time to lock it. Or at least, I didn't think so!
I tiptoed at first, just one step up at a time, and kept glancing back over my shoulder: at the cell, to see if Meg was coming out; then at the corner of the steps to see if feral Marcia was after me. I was hoping that she was still too full after her morning meal. Or that she wouldn't come up from the cellar while Meg was there. Perhaps she was afraid of her sister. She'd certainly gone back down the steps at Meg's command.
At last I reached the gate and gripped the cold iron. Was it locked? To my relief, it yielded and I pulled it open, trying to keep the movement as smooth as possible. But the Spook had known what he was doing when he'd had it built on the steps. There was a clang and the whole house above seemed to reverberate like a bell.
Immediately Meg rushed out of the Spook's cell and ran up the steps towards me, her arms raised, fingers splayed and arched like talons. For a moment I froze. I couldn't believe how fast she was moving. Another couple of seconds and it would have been too late, but
I ran too. Ran and ran without looking back. Right to the top of the steps, then through the house to the kitchen, aware that Meg was close at my heels, hearing her footsteps behind and expecting to feel her nails cut into my skin at any moment. There was no time to go into the study for my bag. I wouldn't have a hope of unfastening it and getting my silver chain out in time. At the back door I snatched up my cloak, jacket and staff, unlocked the door and raced out into the freezing cold.
I'd been right. It was dusk, but there was still plenty of light to see by. I kept glancing backwards but there was no sign of pursuit. I struggled down the clough as fast as I could manage, but it was hard work. The snow was starting to freeze hard underfoot and there was a lot of it.
When I reached the bottom of the slope, I halted and looked back again. Meg hadn't followed me. It was bitterly cold and the wind was gusting from the north, so I put my sheepskin jacket on, pulling my cloak over the top. Then I paused for thought, my breath steaming into the cold air.
I felt like a coward for leaving the Spook behind at the mercy of Meg, and I had to make up for what I'd done. Somehow I had to rescue the Spook and get him out of her clutches. But I needed help to do that. And help was close by: living and working in Adlington was the Spook's brother, Andrew, who'd helped me before in Priestown. He was the locksmith who'd made the Spook a key to the Silver Gate that imprisoned the Bane. Making a key for the iron gate to the Spook's cellar should be far easier. And that was exactly what I needed.
I was going to have to sneak back into the winter house, get through the gate and let the Spook out of his cell, something that was easier said than done. There was a feral lamia on the loose - not to mention Meg.
Trying not to think too much about the difficulties ahead, I trudged on through the snow towards Adlington. It was downhill all the way. But soon I'd have to return.
Snowbound
The cobbled streets of Adlington Village were buried under six inches or more of snow. In the fading light, delighted children were out in force, laughing, screeching and shouting, making slides or hurling snowballs at one another. Other people were less happy. A couple of shawled women passed me, stepping nervously on the snowladen pavement with bowed heads, eyes watching their feet. They were clutching empty baskets and heading down towards Babylon Lane for some last-minute shopping. I followed in the same direction until I reached Andrew's shop.
As I lifted the latch and pushed open the door, a bell
tinkled. The shop was empty but I heard someone approaching from the back. There was the click, click, click of pointy shoes and, to my astonishment, Alice walked in and came up to the counter, a big smile on her face.
'Good to see you, Tom! I wondered how long it would take you to find me ...'
'What are you doing here?' I asked in astonishment.
'Working for Andrew, of course! Gave me a job and a home,' she answered with a smile. T mind the shop so he can have more time in his workshop. Do most of the cooking and cleaning too. He's a good man, Andrew.'
I fell silent for a moment and Alice must have read the expression on my face because her smile quickly faded and she looked concerned. 'Your dad...' she said.
'When I got there, Dad had already passed away. I was too late, Alice.'
I couldn't say any more because my voice failed and a lump came up into my throat. But in an instant, Alice reached across and put her hand on my shoulder. 'Oh,
Tom! I'm so sorry,' she told me. 'Come through to the back and warm yourself by the fire.'
The living room was comfortable› with a settee, two comfy armchairs and a generous coal fire blazing in the grate. T like a good fire,' Alice said happily. 'Andrew's more careful with the coal than I am but he's away on a job and won't be back until well after dark. While the cat's away ...'
I leaned my staff in the corner before sinking into the settee, which faced the fire directly. Instead of sitting down beside me, Alice knelt by the fire, her knees on the hearthrug, so that her left side was towards me.
'Why did you leave the Hursts?' I asked.
'Had to get away' Alice said with a scowl. 'Morgan kept pestering me to help him in some way, but wouldn't say exactly how. Got a grudge, he has. Had some sort of a plan to get back at Old Gregory.'
I thought I probably knew what she was talking about but I decided not to say anything to her. I'd promised Morgan I'd tell no one about his plans. He was a necromancer who used spirits to find things out.