Read Online Fury of the Seventh Son (Book 13) by Joseph Delaney - Free Book Online Page A

prisoner, but I knew Alice’s tracks well and saw no sign of her either. That made my heart drop into my boots—I’d hoped that in following the witches I would also find Alice.
    Half an hour later, I faced my first threat. But it wasn’t witches.
    As I passed a farm, a big farmer suddenly stepped out from behind a barn into my path. He had broad shoulders and well-muscled arms, but a bulbous belly hung down over his leather belt.
    â€œYou a spook?” he demanded belligerently.
    I nodded.
    â€œWell, where were you last night when you were needed?”
    He was angry and unreasonable, so I tried to placate him.
    â€œOn my way here,” I replied calmly.
    â€œWell, you’re too late to be any use to me. There were witches here last night—dozens of ’em. Helped themselves to three pigs and most of my hens. What are you going to do about it? You owe me compensation. It’s your job to stop things like that from happening.”
    Most people are nervous in the company of a spook. They think that we’re contaminated by the dark. But very occasionally we get angry reactions such as this. The man’s livelihood had suffered, and he wanted to take it out on someone. I looked young and I was smaller than he was, so I would do.
    With a snarl, he stepped toward me, hands outstretched, intending to grip my shirtfront. I dodged to the side and ran toward the gate that led to the next field. I could hear his heavy boots pounding across the grass behind me. He was fast for a big man; he would catch me as I clambered over the gate.
    I didn’t want to hurt him, but I had to do something. I spun quickly and rapped him twice with the base of my staff, one blow to his left shin, the other to his right forearm. He dropped to his knees with a groan, which gave me a chance to climb over the gate. I ran on, and when I glanced back he was still on the other side, shaking his fat fist at me.
    Soon it started to rain, a cold wind blustering into my face from the west. If anything, this drove me on faster. I ran all morning, pausing to catch my breath only briefly. Twice I found the tracks of those I pursued. They were still together, and three or four new witches had joined the group.
    The third time I found their tracks, it was at a crossroads. They were heading south. Liverpool seemed the most likely port for a boat to Ireland. Would they have already arranged passage? They’d been hunting Grimalkin for many months. It could well be that plans were already in place to return the Fiend’s head to Kerry.
    By noon I was exhausted and desperately in need of rest, so I sat on the edge of a ditch in the lee of the wind and the rain and nibbled at the cheese my master had given me. I remained there no more than five minutes. After slaking my thirst with the icy-cold water of a nearby stream, I ran on.
    All morning, desperate thoughts had been churning around inside my head—mainly fears for Alice. Perhaps I’d been mistaken, and her pointy shoe prints had simply been obscured by those of her captors? That made me run even faster.
    I’d also speculated about the Wardstone and what might happen on Halloween. What was it Mab had said about something that would change the world?
    Finally, as the late afternoon gave way to evening, I ran on without thought, numb and weary, driving myself on in pursuit of my enemies. I thrust to the back of my mind the fear that when I caught up with them I would achieve nothing. It was all very well for Grimalkin to send me off after them, to say that only I could retrieve the Fiend’s head. But the odds against me were too great. How could I defeat so many? How could I hope to rescue Alice as well? I began to wonder if they knew that I was following them. Witches could long-sniff the approach of danger; this didn’t work against seventh sons of seventh sons, so I was safe from that, but of course they might have a scryer with them. Someone with