Read Online Spook’s: I Am Grimalkin by Joseph Delaney - Free Book Online Page B

answered. ‘Our enemies pursue us. But we fear nothing for ourselves; our terror is that this should fall into their hands.’
    I held up the sack. ‘This contains the severed head of the Fiend. I have impaled his body and buried it in a pit far from here across the sea. Our enemies wish to reunite the two parts and restore his strength. Tom Ward seeks a way to finally destroy him, but we need to gain time for him to do so. The head must remain safe.’
    The eyes of the lamia closed for a moment as if she were deep in thought. Then she nodded slowly and pointed a taloned fore finger up towards the hole in the ceiling. ‘We sensed the binding of the Fiend and his pain. All who serve the dark felt that the very moment it was accomplished. I would see this head, and so would my sister. Follow me up into the tower.’
    With those words she leaped into the air and soared aloft. Moments later she had flown out of sight through the hole.
    ‘It might be a trick,’ Thorne said. ‘Once we’re in the open she could well attack.’
    I nodded. ‘But it’s a chance we’ll have to take,’ I said and, picking up the sack and holding the candle aloft, I passed between the nearest two pillars and began to climb the spiral staircase.
    Scrambling through the jagged hole in the ceiling, we emerged into the huge underground cylindrical base of the tower. Of the lamia there was no sign. Water dripped from above, no doubt seeping into the stones from the moat. Cautiously, we continued up the narrow spiral steps, which were slippery and treacherous. On our left was the stairwell, and to fall would result in certain death; on our right was the curve of the wall, and set into it at intervals were doors, each a dank dark cell to hold prisoners. I peered into them all but they were empty even of bones.
    At last we reached what had once been the upper of the two trap doors; this had also become a jagged hole in the stone to make passage for the lamias easier. We emerged into the storeroom, with its sacks of rotting potatoes and a stinking, slimy mound of what had once been turnips. When I had visited this place in my spirit form I had been spared the stench, but it was now overpowering; even worse than when the tower was occupied by the Malkin coven. Torchlight flickered beyond the doorway, which led to the large living area.
    Holding up our candles, we walked through. The winged lamia was now perched on the closed trunk, and on a stool nearby sat her sister, holding a book in her left hand. A torch set in the nearest wall-bracket lit the left sides of the two witches, casting their shadows almost as far as the wall. Most of the huge room lay in darkness.
    ‘Here are our guests, sister,’ the winged lamia rasped. ‘The young one is called Thorne. The taller one, with death in her eyes and cruelty in her mouth, is Grimalkin, the witch assassin.’
    The witch on the stool attempted to smile at us but only managed to twist her face into a grimace. Her teeth were slightly too big to fit into her mouth and she breathed noisily.
    However, when she spoke, her voice was soft, with no hint of harshness. ‘My name is Slake,’ she said. ‘My sister is named Wynde, after our mother. I believe you have something to show us?’
    I placed the leather sack on the floor and untied it. Then I slowly drew forth the Fiend’s head and held it up by the horns so that it was facing towards the lamias. They both smiled grotesquely at the sight.
    ‘The green apple is a clever way to ensure silence,’ said Slake approvingly.
    ‘I like the way it is wrapped in thorns,’ added Wynde.
    ‘But why don’t you simply destroy the head?’ Slake asked. ‘We could boil it up in a cauldron and eat it.’
    ‘Better to eat it raw,’ Wynde rasped, fluttering her wings, her bestial face suddenly showing excitement. ‘I’ll have the tongue, sister. You can have the eyes!’
    ‘I have already considered destroying it but I dare not!’ I interrupted. ‘Who can know