The Spook's Apprentice by Joseph Delaney Page A

something else even more strange: across the top of the patch of earth, and fastened to the outer stones by bolts, lay thirteen thick iron bars.
    I counted them twice just to be sure.
    ‘Well, come on, lad -I asked you a question. What is it?’
    My mouth was so dry I could hardly speak but I managed to stammer out three words: ‘It’s a grave ...’
    ‘Good lad. Got it first time. Notice anything unusual?’ he asked.
    I couldn’t speak at all by then. So I just nodded.
    He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a dead witch and a pretty feeble one at that. They buried her on unhallowed ground outside a churchyard not too many miles from here. But she kept scratching her way to the surface. I gave her a good talking to but she wouldn’t listen, so I had her brought here. It makes people feel better. That way they can get on with their lives in peace. They don’t want to think about things like this. That’s our job.’
    I nodded again and suddenly realized that I wasn’t breathing, so I sucked in a deep lungful of air. My heart was hammering away in my chest, threatening to break out any minute, and I was trembling from head to foot.
    ‘No, she’s little trouble now,’ the Spook continued. ‘Sometimes, at the full moon, you can hear her stirring, but she lacks the strength to get to the surface and the iron bars would stop her anyway. But there are worse things further off there in the trees,’ he said, gesturing east with his bony finger. ‘About another twenty paces would bring you to the spot.’
    Worse? What could be worse? I wondered, but I knew he was going to tell me anyway.
    ‘There are two other witches. One’s dead and one’s alive. The dead one’s buried vertically, head down, but even then, once or twice each year we have to straighten out the bars over her grave. Just keep well away after dark.’
    ‘Why bury her head down?’ I asked.
    ‘That’s a good question, lad,’ the Spook said. ‘You see, the spirit of a dead witch is usually what we call "bone-bound". They’re trapped inside their bones and some don’t even know they’re dead. We try them first head up and that’s enough for most. All witches are different but some are really stubborn. Still bound to her bones, a witch like that tries hard to get back into the world. It’s as if they want to be born again, so we have to make things difficult for them and bury them the other way up. Coming out feet first isn’t easy. Human babies sometimes have the same trouble. But she’s still dangerous, so keep well away.
    ‘Make sure you keep clear of the live one. She’d be more dangerous dead than alive because a witch that powerful would have no trouble at all getting back into the world. That’s why we keep her in a pit. Her name’s Mother Malkin and she talks to herself. Well, it’s more of a whisper really. She’s just about as evil as you can get, but she’s been in her pit for a long time and most of her power’s bled away into the earth. She’d love to get her hands on a lad like you. So stay well away. Promise me now that you won’t go near. Let me hear you say it...’
    ‘I promise not to go near,’ I whispered, feeling uneasy about the whole thing. It seemed a terrible, cruel thing to keep any living creature - even a witch -in the ground, and I couldn’t imagine my mam liking the idea much.
    ‘That’s a good lad. We don’t want any more accidents like the one this morning. There are worse things than getting your ears boxed. Far worse.’
    I believed him, but I didn’t want to hear about it. Still, he had other things to show me so I was spared more of his scary words. He led me out of the wood and strode towards another lawn.
    ‘This is the southern garden,’ the Spook said. ‘Don’t come here after dark either.’ The sun was quickly hidden by dense branches and the air grew steadily cooler so I knew we were approaching something bad. He halted about ten