"Witch Dell?" asked the Spook, raising his eyebrows. "That's a new one on me!"Once again, John, it's my own name for a danger spot. Things have changed for the worse since you were last here. That dell has become the refuge of a number of dead witches. Some have escaped from unhallowed graves; others have simply been taken there after death and abandoned by their families. They usually sleep during the daylight hours, burrowed down into the loam beneath the trees, but come out at night to hunt for the warm blood of living creatures. So when the sun goes down, even roosting birds aren't safe in that dell. It's certainly a place to keep well clear of, and the locals do their best. Even so, a few poor souls still go missing each year. Two or three of the witches are very strong and travel miles from the dell each night. Others, fortunately, don't move more than a few paces from their lairs -"

"How many do you reckon there are?" asked the Spook.Father Stocks frowned. "A dozen at least. But as I said, only two or three have been seen outside the dell."I should have come back sooner!" said the Spook, shaking his head. "It should never have been allowed to get so bad. I fear I've failed in my duty-"Nonsense. You weren't to know. You're here now, and that's all that matters," Father Stocks replied. "But yes, the situation is desperate -something has to be done before Lammas."When you came to Chipenden," said the Spook, "I asked you a question, but you never gave me a proper answer. So I'll ask you again. What do you think the covens are going to attempt at Lammas?"Father Stocks pushed back his chair, came slowly to his feet, and sighed. "All right, I'll spit it out!" he said, raising his voice slightly. "What is it that's brought two covens together and might just make a third join them? What could possibly make them put aside their ancient enmity? Most can't stand the sight of one another and have come together only once in the past thirty years -"

"Aye," said the Spook with a grim smile. "They came together to curse me!"That they did, John, but this time it's because the dark is growing in power, and I suspect that somebody or something is bringing them together. The gathering darkness will give them the opportunity to achieve something very dangerous and difficult. I think they're going to try to raise the Fiend himself!"I'd laugh, Father, if I thought you were joking," the Spook said, shaking his head gravely. "I never taught you to believe in the Devil. Are you speaking with just your priest's hat on?"I wish I were, John. But as a spook and a priest, I believe they're going to attempt just that. Whether they can do it or not, who knows? But two covens believe it, and the third one is being urged to join them in an attempt to try and raise the dark made flesh-the Devil himself. Some witches believe that when this world was first made, the Fiend walked among us. Now they're going to try and bring him back so that a new age of darkness can begin.

"I'd once talked to the Spook about the Devil. He told me that he'd begun to wonder if, after all, there was something behind all that we faced, something hidden deep within the dark. Something that grew stronger as the dark grew stronger. Well, Father Stocks certainly seemed to believe there was something in it.A silence filled the room, and for a few moments both men were deep in thought.Then Father Stocks stood up and set off without further delay, and we walked with him through the graveyard to the lych-gate in front of the church. The clouds were clearing, and the sun was warm on our backs."That sexton of yours could do with a strong word in his ear," said the Spook bluntly. "I've seen tidier churchyards."Father Stocks sighed. "He left nearly a month ago. Went back to stay with family in Colne. It didn't come as any surprise, though-I knew he was getting more and more nervous about tending the churchyard. Three graves have been robbed in the last eight weeks-that's the work of witches-so an untidy churchyard is the least of our worries."Well, Father, while you're away I'll get my lad to tidy up here a bit anyway."We -waved Father Stocks off, and then the Spook turned to me. "Well, you know how to use a scythe, lad, so let's make sure you don't lose what skill you have through lack of practice. You can tidy up that graveyard. It should keep you busy until I return."Where are you going?" I asked in surprise. "I'd thought the idea was for us to stay in Downham -while Father Stocks searches for my family."It was, lad, but scared parishioners and grave robbing suggests that the village is nowhere near as safe as I thought. I always like to find things out for myself, so -while Father Stocks is away, I'll scratch about a bit and see what turns up. In the meantime, get your back into clearing the grass and weeds!"

Chapter V

The Three Sisters

I found the sexton's scythe in a shed at the side of the house, and after taking off my cloak and rolling up my shirt sleeves, I started to cut the grass and weeds as instructed. I began in the areas where the tombstones were horizontal, because that was easier.It was hard work, but I'd often used a scythe back home on the farm and I'd kept my hand in by cutting the grass in the Spook's garden, so I soon got into the swing of it. I could cope with being warm, but as midafternoon approached, the sun grew fierce and the heat and exertion started the sweat trickling down into my eyes. It seemed sensible to take a break and start again later.There was a well behind the house, and I wound up the bucket to find it full of water as cold and delicious as that from the felltop streams near Chipenden. A

fter slaking my thirst I sat down, rested my back against the trunk of a yew tree, and closed my eyes. Listening to the drone of insects, I soon became drowsy, and at some point I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember was a dog barking somewhere in the distance. I opened my eyes to find that it was nearly evening and I still had more than half the graveyard to clear. Expecting the Spook or Father Stocks back at any moment, I immediately set to work again.By the time the sun started to go down, I'd just about finished the cutting. The grass needed collecting up, but I decided that would keep until morning.

My master and the priest still hadn't returned. I was on my way back to the house, just starting to worry, when I heard a faint noise beyond the low boundary wall to my left: a soft footfall in the grass."Well, you've certainly made a good job of that," said a girl's voice. "Not been as tidy as that for many a long month!"Alice!" I cried, spinning round to face her.But it wasn't Alice, even though her voice had sounded very similar. Standing on the other side of the low wall was a girl of about the same size, although perhaps a little older; and while Alice had brown eyes and black hair, this stranger had green eyes like my own, and pale hair that hung down over her shoulders. She was wearing a threadbare, pale blue summer frock with raggedy sleeves and holes in the elbows."I'm not Alice, but I know where she's to be found," said the girl. "She sent me to get you. Said you were to come right away. 'Bring Tom to me,' she said. 'I need help!Bring him right away' Mind you, she didn't let on how fetching you were. A lot better looking than your old master!"

I felt myself blush. My instincts told me not to trust the girl. She was pleasant enough to look at and her eyes were large and bright, but there was something a little shifty about the way her mouth moved when she spoke."Where is Alice? Why couldn't she come with you?"She's not too far over yonder," the girl said, gesturing roughly south. "Ten minutes at the most, that's all it is. Couldn't come because she's got a bind on her-"A bind? What's that?" I asked."You a spook's apprentice and never heard of a spell of binding? That's shameful. Your master's not educating you right. Alice is spellbound. They've got her on a short leash. Can't travel more than a hundred paces from where they cast it. Better than chains if it's done right. But I can get you close enough to see her-"Who did it?" I demanded. "Who cast the spell?"