'Leave me be! Let me rest!' cried the voice.

    The noise of dripping water grew louder and there was a faint splashing, as if a puddle had formed on the tabletop.

    'Obey me and then I'll let you rest,' cried Morgan. 'It's another I wish to speak to. Bring him to this place and then you may return from whence you came. There's a boy with me in this room. Can you see him?'

    'Yes, I see him,' the girl's voice answered. 'He has just lost someone. I sense his sadness.'

    'The boy's name is Thomas Ward,' Morgan said.

    'He mourns his father. Bring his father's spirit to us now!'

    The cold began to lessen and the water ceased its dripping. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. Was Morgan really going to summon Dad's spirit? I felt a sense of outrage.

    'Aren't you looking forward to speaking to your father one more time?' Morgan demanded. 'I've already spoken to him and he told me that all your brothers visited his deathbed to say goodbye but you, and that you even missed his funeral. He was sad about that. Very sad. Now you'll both have a chance to put things right.'

    I was stunned by that. How could Morgan possibly know what had happened? Unless he really had been in contact with Dad's spirit...

    'It wasn't my fault!' I said, angry and upset. T didn't get the message in time.'

    'Well, now you're about to get the chance to tell him that yourself...'

    It started to grow colder again. Then a voice spoke to me across the table. Morgan's jaw was moving again but, to my dismay it was Dad's voice that came out of his mouth. There was no mistaking it. Nobody could possibly have mimicked somebody else's voice so perfectly. It was as if Dad were sitting facing me in the chair opposite.

    'It's dark' Dad cried, 'and I can't even see my hand before my face. Someone light a candle for me, please. Light a candle so that I can be saved.'

    I felt terrible thinking of Dad alone and afraid in the dark. I tried to call out and reassure him but Morgan spoke first.

    'How can you be saved?' he said, his voice deep and powerful and filled with authority 'How can a sinner such as you go to the light? A sinner who always worked on the Lord's day?'

    'Oh, forgive me! Forgive me, Lord!' Dad cried. 'I was a farmer and there were jobs to be done. I worked my fingers to the bone but there were never enough hours in a day. I'd a family to provide for. But I always paid my tithes, holding nothing back that belonged to the Church. I always believed, truly I did. And I taught my sons right from wrong. I did all that a father should.'

    'One of your sons is here now,' Morgan said. 'Would you like to speak to him one last time?'

    'Please. Please. Yes. Let me speak to him. Is it Jack? There were things I should have said to him while I lived. Things unsaid that I would say now!'

    'No,' Morgan said. 'Jack isn't here. It's your youngest son, Tom.'

    'Tom! Tom! Are you there? Is it really you?'

    'I'ts s me, Dad. If s me!' I cried, a lump coming up into my throat. I couldn't bear the thought of Dad suffering in the darkness like that. What had he done to deserve this? 'I'm sorry I didn't get home in time. Sorry I didn't go to your funeral. The message reached me too late. If you've anything to say to Jack, tell me. I'll give him your message,' I said, the tears starting to prick behind my eyes.

    'Just tell Jack I'm sorry about the farm, son. Sorry that I didn't leave it all to him. He's my eldest lad and it was his birthright. But I listened to your mam. Tell him I'm sorry that I left that room to you.'

    There were tears running down my face now. It was a shock to hear that Mam and Dad hadn't been in agreement about the room. I wanted to promise Dad that I'd make it right by giving the room to Jack, but I couldn't because I had to take into account Mam's wishes. I had to talk to her first. But I tried to make Dad feel better. It was the best I could do.

    'Don't worry, Dad! It'll be all right. I'll talk to Jack about it. It won't cause any trouble in the family. None at all. Don't you worry. It'll be fine.'

    'You're a good lad, Tom,' Dad said, his voice full of gratitude.

    'A good lad!' Morgan interrupted. 'He's anything but that. This is the son that you gave to a spook! Seven sons you had and not one did you offer to the Church!'

    'Oh! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!' Dad's voice cried out in anguish. 'But none of my lads had a vocation. None wanted to he priests. I struggled to find a good trade for each, and when it came to the last of my sons, his mam wanted him apprenticed to a spook. I was strong against it and we argued over that more than we'd ever argued before. But 1 gave in finally, because I loved her and couldn't deny her what she'd set her heart on. Forgive me! I was weak and put earthly love before my duty to God!'

    'That you did!' Morgan cried out in a loud voice. 'There is no forgiveness for one such as you, and now you must suffer the pains of Hell. Can you feel the flames starting to lick at your flesh? Can you feel the heat starting to build?'

    'Nay, Lord! Please! Please! The pain is too much to bear! Please spare me. I'll do anything! Anything!'

    I came to my feet, filled with anger. Morgan was doing this to Dad. Making Dad believe he was in Hell. Making him experience terrible pain. I couldn't allow it to continue.

    'Don't listen to him, Dad!' I shouted. 'There are no flames. There is no pain. Go in peace! Go in peace! Go to the light! Go to the light!'

    I took four rapid steps down the left side of the table and, with all my strength, swung my staff towards the hooded figure and struck him a terrible blow. Without uttering a sound, he fell away to the right and I heard the chair tumble onto the flags.

    Quickly I pulled my tinderbox and the candle stub from my pocket. Within moments I managed to light the candle. I held it up and looked about me. The chair had fallen sideways and a black cloak was draped across it and down onto the flags. But of Morgan there was no sign! I prodded it with my staff but it was as empty as it looked. He'd vanished into thin air!

    I noticed something on the tabletop. The wood was dry as a bone and there was no trace at all of the water that had seemed to drip and puddle there, but where the brass candlestick had stood was a black envelope.

    Setting the candle down on the edge of the table, I reached across and picked up the envelope. It was sealed, but on it were the words:

    To- My Mew Apprentice', Tom' Ward'

    I tore open the envelope and unfolded the piece of paper within.

   Well, now you've- seen what I am capable of. And what I have Just done, I can do again. I have trapped your father in Limbo. Thus I can reach him anytime I choose and make him believe anything' I want. There is no limit to the pain thatI can inflict upon him.

    If yow would have him from' this, obey my will , firstly, I need something from Qregory'y house: Up in the attic, locked instde his writing desk, there is a wooden box and within it a grvmoive, which is a book of powerful spells and ritualy. It is bound in green leather and has a silver pentacle embossed on the front cover -three concentric circles with a five -pointed star within. It is mine . 'Bring' it to me.

    Secondly, say nothing' to anyone of what you have seen. Thirdly, yow mu&t accept that you are now my apprentice, bound to my service for a period of five years- from this- day forth - or your father will suffer. To signal your acceptance, rap three times- upon the tabletop. The door is unlocked and, whatever your decision, you are free to go. The choice is-yours.