I obeyed, peeling off to the left while he went right. For either of us to be captured was bad enough, but what he’d suggested certainly made good sense.

For a few moments I sprinted off and the sound of the dogs actually started to fade. But just when I thought I was getting away, I heard a single bark close behind me. I looked back to see Claw closing on me fast. Beyond her were half a dozen men with clubs. They didn’t seem to be gaining on me, but the dog certainly was.

I stumbled on a tussock of grass, went down on all fours, and immediately jumped to my feet again. But before I could go anywhere Claw was on me, her teeth clamped on my breeches just above the ankle.

‘Let go, Claw! Let go!’ I shouted, but she growled and began to shake my leg as she would a rat.

I couldn’t believe she was behaving like this. She’d always obeyed Bill Arkwright, and had once saved my life when I’d been seized by the water witch, Morwena. Since Bill’s death I’d thought of her as my own dog. How had the shaman managed to turn her against me like this? She seemed like a different animal.

She was a big, powerful wolfhound and the only way to make her let go was to whack her hard with my staff – though even that might not be enough. I raised my arm, but then hesitated… I couldn’t bring myself to do it… And then it was too late. The first of the yeomen – a big, burly man – was upon me.

He swung his club at my head. I used my staff against him rather than the dog, and he went down at my feet with a grunt. I felled a second assailant, but then I was surrounded. What happened next was bad. Claw snarled and transferred her grip from my breeches to my ankle. I felt her teeth sink in. My sense of shock at her behaviour was worse than the physical pain. Then a whack to my head brought me to my knees and my staff fell to the ground. The blows rained in hard; someone booted me in my stomach and I doubled up in pain, fighting for breath.

I was hauled roughly to my feet, my hands were tied behind my back and I was marched off through the trees. Every so often someone would direct a kick at my back or my legs. That was bad enough, but soon the grey stone of the keep loomed up through the trees. I knew where they were taking me – down into the dungeons to feed me to the buggane. Greeba Keep had a wide moat full of murky water, but rather than a drawbridge like Malkin Tower, this fortification had a simple wooden approach ramp and a metal portcullis between two small gatehouses that were scarcely higher than the outer wall. I stood there, suffering kicks and thumps as we waited for it to be raised.

Once inside, I saw that the walls enclosed a flagged area full of stone buildings. The tall tower was right at the centre, protected by another portcullis. Two yeomen, each furnished with a flickering torch, dragged me along beneath the strong metal grille, then down some steep spiral steps until we reached a guard-room, where half a dozen men sat eating while others cleaned boots and polished armour.

I was taken through a doorway opposite them and down more steps into the damp darkness. Eventually we emerged in a narrow passageway dripping with water, with soft mud that squelched underfoot. At one point I saw water cascading down the wall – I assumed we were passing under the moat, heading for the deep dungeons to the south, within the buggane’s domain. Every so often other passageways led off to our right and left.

I’d expected to be held in a chamber similar to the one in the Tynwald witch tower, along with the other prisoners, including Adriana, but we went straight past a row of narrow cells: I heard no sounds or movement so it was impossible to tell if any were occupied. One of the yeomen unlocked the door of the one at the end and, after cutting the ropes that bound my hands, thrust me inside. Once the metal door clanged shut, I was plunged into complete darkness.

I waited for the footsteps to die away and then reached into my pocket for my tinderbox and candle stub. I always carry them with me because spook’s business often means working after dark or in underground chambers. I also checked on the blood jar, relieved to find that it was still safe. But poor Alice – she was beyond its protection. I could hardly bear to think about the risk she faced from the Fiend.

I was surprised that I hadn’t been searched and still had my silver chain – not that it would be any use against the buggane in its spirit form as it came to draw the life from my body.

I managed to light the candle, but the underground cell proved even worse than I’d expected. Not even straw to lie on. There was an oddity too: three of the walls were made of damp stone but the fourth was just earth – hard-packed sub-soil. My hands began to tremble, making the candle flame flicker – because low down, in the centre of that earthen wall, was the dark entrance to a tunnel.

Was it one of the buggane’s tunnels? I bent low and peered in. The rear part was still in partial shadow, but it seemed to come to a dead end no more than fifteen feet inside. Had someone tried to dig an escape tunnel and been discovered? If so, why hadn’t the guards filled it in again?

I had another way out of the cell; one other item in my pocket that might prove useful – my special key. It had been crafted by the Spook’s brother, Andrew, and could open most locks. Not that I’d be in a rush to use it. I could probably get out of the cell easily enough, but then there was both an inner and an outer portcullis controlling access to the keep. The mechanisms to raise them would be guarded, so escape from the keep seemed out of the question.

Of course, there were other cells nearby, and one of them might hold Adriana. If they caught the Spook, they might bring him here too – but I’d probably hear them in the passageway outside, so it was best to bide my time. Several of us working together would have a better chance of getting out.

I waited for long time but heard nothing. Surely, if they’d caught the Spook, he’d have been brought here by now? Perhaps he’d managed to escape? Eventually I blew out the candle to save it for future use, then curled myself up into a ball on the earth floor and tried to sleep. It was cold and damp, and soon I began to shiver. I was aching all over and covered in bruises from the beating I’d suffered. There was no Alice here to offer relief from pain with her herbs – only time would heal me.

Several times I dozed off, only to wake up with a jerk. But the final time I awoke, it was for reasons other than cold and discomfort.

I could hear the patter of earth falling onto the floor. Someone or something was emerging from the tunnel…

Iopened my tinderbox, and despite the trembling of my hands managed to light the candle stub. I stared at the earthen wall in horror. A hairy head, arms and upper torso were visible at the entrance of the tunnel and the creature was looking directly towards me. It was huge.

My worst fears were realized: it was the buggane, once again in the shape of the Cruncher. The daemon was squat and bulky, with virtually no neck, its front limbs ending in broad claws clearly shaped for burrowing. Its massive body was covered in long black hair which shone in the candlelight as if slick with oil. At close quarters, the most striking thing about it was its face. It had the large, close-set staring eyes of a cruel predator, but when its gaze turned towards the candle, the lids narrowed into a squint. In this form the buggane had created and now inhabited a labyrinth of dark tunnels. I wondered if the light bothered it?

The creature had a slimy wet quivering snout, from which drops of moisture fell and splattered on the floor; it suddenly growled low in its throat and opened its mouth to reveal teeth that looked capable of biting off an arm, a leg or even a head. It had a double row of teeth: those at the front were sharp and triangular like the teeth of a wood-saw; those to the rear were broad, like human ones, but far larger – molars shaped for grinding and chewing. No wonder they called it the Cruncher.