I shook my head. My birthday was on the third of that month. That was the only date in August with any significance for me."Well, lad, it's about time you did know. It's one of the feasts of the old gods. They call it Lammas, and it's a time when witches' covens gather to worship and draw down power from the dark."It's one of the main four sabbaths in the witches'year, isn't it? I've read about them, but I didn't know all the dates."Well, you know the date of Lammas now. And from what Father Stocks has told me, it seems that the Pendle witches are getting ready to attempt something especially dark and dangerous on that date. And the big danger is that the Mouldheels will join in and all three covens will be united, which will greatly increase their powers. It must be something big to draw them together like this.Father Stocks has never known so many attacks on graveyards -bones aplenty have been taken. The bad news about your brother and his family complicates things, but it's clear enough what our priorities are."We need to get into Pendle and meet up with Father Stocks at Downham. We need to stop the Mouldheels from joining that unholy alliance, and we need to find those who've been taken. If young Alice can help us with that, all well and good. Otherwise we'll have to go hunting ourselves."

Our bags were packed, and all we had to do was step out through the front door and lock it behind us. At last we'd be off to Pendle, and not a moment too soon. But now, to my dismay, the Spook sat down on a stool beside the kitchen table, took the whetstone from his bag, and lifted his staff. There was a click as the retractable blade shot forward, followed by a grating sound as he began to sharpen its edge.He looked up at me and sighed. He'd read the impatience and anxiety in my face. "Look, lad, I know you're desperate to get on the road, and with good reason. But we have to do things properly and be ready for any eventuality. I've a bad feeling about this trip. So if at any time I tell you to run for it and use that special room of your mam's, will you do it?"What? And leave you behind?"Aye, that's exactly what I mean. Somebody has to continue our trade. I've never been one for praising my apprentices much. Praise can be bad for you. It can go to your head and give an inflated sense of worth so that you rest on your laurels. But I will say this. Without doubt you've become what your mam once promised-you are the best apprentice I've ever had. I can't go on forever, so you might indeed be my last apprentice, the one I have to prepare to carry on my work in the County. If I do say the word, leave Pendle at once, without either a question or a back-ward glance, and take refuge in that room. Do you understand?"I nodded."And if it's necessary, will you obey me?"Yes," I said. "I'll do it."At last the Spook was satisfied, and there was a click as the blade retracted back into the staff. Carrying both our bags and my own staff, I followed the Spook outside and waited until he'd locked the door behind us. He paused for a moment, looked up at the house, then turned and smiled at me sadly."Right, lad, let's get on our way! We've delayed enough already!"

Chapter IV

East To Pendle

We traveled east from Chipenden, keeping to the southern edge of the Bowland Fells before curving away to cross the River Ribble's pleasant,tree-lined banks. I'd have hardly known it for the same wide tidal river that had run through Priestown, but, once across, I began to feel more and more uneasy.

"Well, there it is, lad," said the Spook, coming to a halt some distance from a stream that lay in our path. He pointed at Pendle Hill, which had been growing steadily as we advanced toward it. "Not a pretty sight, is it? "I couldn't help agreeing. Although its shape reminded me of the Long Ridge, a local fell beyond the valley to the south of Chipenden, this was larger and more daunting. Above it was suspended a threatening bank of thick black clouds."Some say that it looks like a great beached whale," said the Spook. "Well, never having seen a whale myself, I can't be the judge of that. Others say it looks like an upturned boat. I can just about see that, but the comparison hardly does it justice. What do you think, lad?"

I studied the scene carefully. The light -was beginning to fail, but the hill itself seemed to radiate darkness. It had a brooding presence."It could almost be alive," I said, choosing my words with care. "It's as if there's something malevolent inside it and it's casting a spell over everything."

"Couldn't have put it better myself, lad," said the Spook, leaning on his staff and looking very thoughtful. "But one thing's for sure: There's an unholy host of malevolent witches living within sight of it. Now, it'll be dark in half an hour and we'd be wise to stay this side of that stream until dawn. Then we can press on into Pendle."That we did, settling down in the shelter of a hedge. Half the width of a field separated us from the stream, but as I slipped down into sleep, I could hear it murmuring gently in the distance.We were up at dawn and, without even a nibble of cheese to sustain us, quickly crossed the stream and pressed on toward Downham, a faint drizzle drifting into our faces. We were heading north, with Pendle Hill to our right, but we soon lost sight of it as we entered a dense wood of sycamore and ash."Here's something to note," the Spook said, leading me across to a large oak tree. "What do you make of that?"There was a strange carving on the trunk. I peered at it closely."Is it meant to be a pair of scissors?" I asked."Aye," said the Spook grimly. "But they're not intended to cut cloth. That's a mark carved by Grimalkin, the witch assassin. Her trade is death and torture, and the Malkins send her out against their enemies. She's carved that as a warning. 'Pendle is my territory,' she's saying. 'Cross me and I'll snip away your flesh and your bone!'"I shuddered and stepped away from the tree.

"Maybe I'll cross blades with her one day," said the Spook. "The world would certainly be a better place if she were dead. But although she's a ruthless killer, she lives by a code of honor -she would never use guile. She likes it best when the odds are against her, but once she's got the upper hand, watch out for those scissors!"Shaking his head, the Spook led the way toward Downham. I'd learned a lot about Pendle in the last couple of days, and I knew it was a dangerous place to be. No doubt there was worse to come.The main village street meandered down the side of a steep hill. For reasons of his own, the Spook circled round to enter Downham from the north. Pendle Hill was directly ahead of us, dominating the village completely, filling half the sky with its brooding presence. Although it was already midmorning and the drizzle had come to a halt, there wasn't a soul about."Where is everybody?" I asked the Spook."Hiding behind their curtains-where else, lad?" he said with a grim smile. "No doubt minding everyone else's business but their own!"

"Will they tell the witches that we're here?" I asked, watching a lace curtain twitch to my left."I've brought us here by something of a serpentine way so as to avoid certain places where sight of us wouldn't go unreported. No doubt there'll be a few spies here anyway, but Downham is still the safest place in the whole district. That's why we're going to make it our base. For that we owe thanks to Father Stocks. He's been the parish priest here for over ten years and has done all he can to battle with the dark and keep it at a distance. But from what he tells me, even this village is now under threat. People are leaving. They're getting clear of Pendle altogether -some of them good families that have made this their home for generations."The small parish church was to the south of the village, just beyond a stream. It was set within a huge graveyard filled with rows and rows of tombstones of every conceivable shape and size. Many were horizontal, almost hidden by the long grass and weeds; others jutted out of the ground at any angle but the vertical, resembling rotting teeth. In all, this cemetery spoke of neglect, the headstones weather-beaten, their inscriptions faded or covered in lichen and moss."The graves could do with a bit of a tidy up," observed the Spook.