‘Thank you, Father. You may be seated. Your testimony alone is enough to condemn John Gregory!’

As Father Cairns took his seat again, Alice gripped my elbow. ‘Come on,’ she whispered into my ear, ‘it’s too dangerous to stay!’

‘No, please,’ I whispered back. ‘Just a bit longer.’

The mention of my name had scared me but I wanted to stay a few more minutes to see what happened to my master.

‘John Gregory, for you there can be only one punishment!’ roared the Quisitor. ‘You will be bound to a stake and burned alive. I will pray for you. I will pray that pain teaches you the error of your ways. I will pray that you beg God’s forgiveness so that, as your body burns, your soul is saved.’

The Quisitor stared at the Spook all the while he was ranting but he might as well have been shouting at a stone wall. There was no understanding behind the Spook’s eyes. In a way it was a mercy because he didn’t seem to know what was happening. But it made me realize that, even if I somehow did manage to rescue him, he might never be the same again.

A lump came to my throat. The Spook’s house had become my new home and I remembered the lessons, the conversations with the Spook and even the scary times when we had to deal with the dark. I was going to miss all that, and the thought of my master being burned alive brought pricking tears to my eyes.

My mam had been right. At first I’d been doubtful about being the Spook’s apprentice. I’d feared the loneliness. But she’d told me that I’d have the Spook to talk to; that although he was my teacher, eventually he’d become my friend. Well, I didn’t know if that had happened yet, because he was still often stern and fierce, but I was certainly going to miss him.

As the guards dragged him towards the doorway, I nodded to Alice, and keeping my head down and not making eye contact with anybody, I led the way along the balcony and down the steps. Outside I could see that the sky was beginning to grow lighter. Soon we wouldn’t have the cover of darkness and someone might recognize one of us. The streets were already busier and the crowd outside the hall had more than doubled since we’d been inside. I pushed through the throng so that I could look down the side of the building, towards the door the prisoners had been taken through.

One glance told me that the situation was hopeless. I couldn’t see any prisoners, but that wasn’t surprising because there must have been at least twenty guards near the doorway. What chance did we have against so many? With my heart in my boots I turned to Alice. ‘Let’s get back,’ I said. “There’s nothing to be done here.’

I was anxious to reach the safety of the cellar so we walked quickly. Alice followed me without a word.

CHAPTER 12

The Silver Gate Once back in the cellar, Alice turned to me, her eyes blazing with anger.

‘It ain’t fair, Tom! Poor Maggie. She doesn’t deserve to burn. None of ‘em do. Something’s got to be done.’

I shrugged and just stared into space, my mind numb. After a while Alice lay back and fell asleep. I tried to do the same but I started thinking about the Spook again. Even though it seemed hopeless, should I still go to the burning and see if I could do anything to help? After turning it over in my mind for a while, I finally decided that, at nightfall, I would leave Priestown and go home to talk to my mam.

She’d know what I should do. I was out of my depth here and I needed help. I’d be walking all night and would get no sleep then so it was best to grab what I could now. It took me a while to nod off, but when I did, almost immediately I started to dream and the next thing I knew I was back in the catacombs.

In most dreams you don’t know that you’re dreaming. But when you do, one of two things usually happens. Either you wake up right away or you stay in the dream and do what you want. That’s the way it’s always been with me, anyway.

But this dream was different. It was as if something was controlling my movements. I was walking down a dark tunnel with the stub of a candle in my left hand and I was approaching the dark doorway to one of the crypts that held the bones of the Little People. I didn’t want to go anywhere near it but my feet just kept on walking.

I halted at the open doorway, the flickering light of the candle illuminating the bones. Most were on shelves at the rear of the crypt, but a few broken ones were scattered across the cobbled floor and lying in a heap in the corner. I didn’t want to go in there, I really didn’t, but I seemed to have no choice. I stepped into the crypt, hearing small fragments of bone crunching beneath my feet, when suddenly I felt very cold.

One winter when I was young, my brother James chased me and filled my ears with snow. I tried to fight back but he was only one year younger than my eldest brother Jack and just as big and strong, so much so that my dad had eventually got him apprenticed to a blacksmith. He shared the same sense of humour as Jack too. Snow in the ears had been James’s daft idea of a joke but it had really hurt and all my face had gone numb and ached for almost an hour afterwards. It was just like that in the dream. Extreme cold. It meant that something from the dark was approaching. The cold began inside my head until it felt frozen and numb, as though it didn’t belong to me any more.

Something spoke from the darkness behind me. Something that was standing close to my back and between me and the doorway. The voice was harsh and deep and I didn’t need to ask who was speaking.

Even though I wasn’t facing towards it, I could smell its rank breath.

‘I’m got proper,’ said the Bane. ‘I’m bound. This is all I have.’

I said nothing and there was a long silence. It was a nightmare and I tried to wake up. I really struggled but it was useless.

‘A pleasant room, this,’ the Bane continued. ‘One of my favourite places, it is. Full of old bones. But fresh blood is what I want and the blood of the young is best of all. But if I can’t get blood then I’ll make do with bones. New bones are the best. Give me new bones every time, fresh and sweet and filled with marrow. That’s what I like. I love to split young bones and suck out the marrow. But old bones are better than nothing. Old bones like these. They’re better than the hunger gnawing away at my insides. Hunger that hurts so much.

‘There’s no marrow inside old bones. But old bones still have memories, see. I stroke old bones, I do, slowly so that they give up all their secrets. I see the flesh that once covered them, the hopes and ambitions that ended in this dry, dead brittleness. That fills me up too. That eases the hunger.’

The Bane was very close to my left ear, its voice now hardly more than a whisper. I had a sudden urge to turn round and look at it but it must have read my mind.

‘Don’t turn round, boy,’ it warned. ‘Or you won’t like what you see. Just answer me this question…’

There was a long pause and I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. At last the Bane asked its question.

‘After death, what happens?’

I didn’t know the answer. The Spook never spoke about such things. All I knew was that there were ghosts who could still think and talk. And fragments called ghasts that had been left behind when the soul had moved on. But moved on to what? I didn’t know. Only God knew. If there was a God.

I shook my head. I didn’t speak and I was too scared to turn round. Behind me I had a sense of something huge and terrifying.

‘There’s nothing after death! Nothing! Nothing at all!’ bellowed the Bane close to my ear. ‘There’s just blackness and emptiness. No thinking. No feeling, just oblivion. That’s all that waits for you on the other side of death. But do my bidding, boy, and I can give you a long, long life! Three score years and ten is the best that most feeble humans can hope for. But ten or twenty times that I could give you! And all you have to do is open the gate and let me go free! Just open the gate and I’ll do the rest. Your master could go free too. I know that’s what you want. Go back, you could, to the life you once had.’