The Spook’s Revenge: Book 13 (Spooks) by Delaney Joseph Page A

and I fell backwards. I was stunned, barely conscious, in pain. It was if a shock wave had passed straight through me.
    I was lying on my right side, my left hand stretched out in front of me. I sensed the boggart looming over me. Now it seemed much larger than I was.
    Then it struck my left hand. I felt its claws rake my skin. Pain seared into the flesh, running up my arm and into my chest; I feared my heart would stop.
    I was rigid with agony. My hand had surely been mangled, the flesh torn, the bones crushed. But I saw in the light of the moon that it was intact, but for a single scratch running across from my little finger to the base of my thumb. As I watched, dark blood welled up from the wound and began to trickle down towards my wrist.
    Why had the boggart turned on me? How could I ever hope to understand the motives of such an alien entity? It seemed likely that this was a reaction to my audacity in stroking it – though its response could have been much worse. My hand was still connected to my arm. Perhaps our pact had survived my recklessness?
    Suddenly I felt the boggart’s huge rough tongue begin to lick the blood from my hand. As it lapped, the pain receded from my body; I closed my eyes and fell into darkness.
    I was dragged back to consciousness by a deep rumbling vibration that seemed to shake the ground beneath me. I was lying on my back and there was a cold, heavy weight across my lower legs.
    I sat up very slowly and saw in the bright moonlight that the boggart had laid its huge head and paws across my body; the rumbling was its purr – a sound that in a normal cat indicated contentment. For a long time I didn’t dare move my legs, even though I had cramp: any movement that disturbed the boggart’s comfort might result in another violent reaction.
    At last I could stand it no longer. I moved my legs very slightly. Immediately the weight vanished and the boggart disappeared.
    I came to my feet and took a deep breath. Had it returned to Chipenden? I wondered. Had it abandoned me?
    But then I heard a voice, harsh and sibilant, right inside my head.
    I thirst! it hissed insistently. The rabbits welcomed me, thank you, but were just morsels. Now I need to quench my thirst with human blood. I kept my promise and answered your summons. Now you must provide me with what I need!
    My previous communications with the boggart had been very different: I had spoken and it had understood, but it had scratched its replies on wood. Why had things changed now? Was this another gift inherited from Mam?
    I reflected that it might well be connected with the fact that it had drunk my blood.
    What are we waiting for? demanded the voice of the boggart. No human has ever dared touch me before. You are brave! You are worthy to walk with me. Let us kill together!
    It seemed that it was happy with me after all. That was why it had been purring.
    ‘Yes, we’ll go together to the tower on the hill where my enemies are lodged!’ I replied. ‘Help me to defeat them and their blood is yours.’
    So saying, I picked up my staff and set off. The boggart was still invisible, but I could hear it padding at my side as we climbed the final hill. I halted just short of the narrow stone steps and drove my staff into the ground.
    ‘I’ll climb up to the tower and fight those who emerge,’ I told it. ‘Then I will retreat slowly, drawing them forth. While I live, do not pass beyond this staff! If I die or fall, then you may attack at will. But when my retreat brings me back below this staff and as many as possible are in the open, that is when I wish you to attack. At that moment you may kill all those both within and without the tower – with the exception of one person. The girl, Alice, whom you know, is not to be harmed. Do you understand and accept?’
    I knew that the boggart could enter through the arrow slits and slay the witches; but in the confines of the tower they might be able to combine their magic and fight it off. That