If I succeeded in binding her, it would be over and the house would be back in our hands. But trying it was filled with risk. Meg might wake up suddenly -and nine times out of ten wasn't quite ten out of ten! I might miss, and Meg was incredibly strong. The Spook was in no condition to help, and the three of us would be at Meg's mercy. So I pointed down the passageway to the front door.

    Moments later I had the door open and helped Alice to get the Spook outside. Next I took the candle from her, shielding it close to my body to stop it from going out.

    'I've got something to do back in the house,' I told her. T won't be long, but get Mr Gregory away from here. Andrew should be waiting further down the clough-'

    'Don't be daft, Tom!' Alice exclaimed, her face filled with concern. 'What could be so important as to make you want to go back in there?'

    'Trust me, Alice. It's got to be done. I'll see you back at Andrew's-'

    'There's something you ain't told me,' Alice complained. 'What is it? Don't you trust me?'

    'Go on, Alice, please. Just do as I say. I'll explain it all to you later.'

    Reluctantly Alice moved off down the hill, guiding the Spook by the elbow. She didn't look back and I could tell that she was really angry with me.

Up to the attic

    Once inside, I closed the door behind me and started to climb the stairs. In my right hand I held the candle; in my left was my rowan staff. The silver chain was still in the left pocket of my sheepskin jacket. I moved up faster than we'd come down but I was still careful. I didn't want to wake Meg. I had another worry too. My key would be too big for the lock of the Spook's desk. I was going to have to force it open with the crowbar and that was likely to make more than just a bit of noise.

    As I climbed upwards, I began to feel more and more uneasy. Meg was still sleeping, but she might wake up at any time. If she followed me up the stairs,

    I could always re-position the plank and make my escape through the back bedroom window. But would I hear her coming in time? Alice was right. On the face of it, this was a daft thing to do. But I kept thinking of Dad and forced my legs to keep climbing the stairs.

    It wasn't long before I was standing close to the attic door. I was just about to open it and go in when I heard a faint sound. It sounded like a sort of scratching ...

    I listened nervously with my left ear close to the door and heard the scratching sound again. What could be making a noise like that? I'd no choice but to ignore it and try to get what Morgan wanted. I began to turn the handle. Only then, as I slowly stepped into the room, did I realize that I should have escaped with Alice and the Spook while I still had the chance. I should have told my master everything that had happened with Morgan and followed his advice. The Spook would have known how best to help Dad.

    All my instincts now told me to run. It was as if a voice were screaming 'Danger! Danger! Danger!' over and over again inside my head. When I stepped inside,

    I almost closed the door behind me. I felt a strong urge to do it, but somehow I managed to resist. It was gloomy so I lifted the candle above my head in order to see better; then there was a sudden blast of cold air and it guttered out.

    Above, I could see the square pale outline of the skylight. It was wide open and there was a cold breeze wafting downwards into my face. Six small birds were perched on the edge of the skylight. They were silent, as if waiting patiently for something. And below them was the horror of that room.

    The floorboards were scattered with feathers, splattered with blood and littered with fragments of dead birds. It was as if a fox had got into a chicken coop. There were wings, legs, heads, and hundreds and hundreds of feathers. Feathers falling through the air, swirling around my head, stirred by the chill breeze that was blowing through the skylight.

    When I saw something much larger, I wasn't surprised. But the sight of it chilled me to the bone. Crouching in the corner, close to the writing desk, was the feral lamia, eyes closed, the top lids thick and heavy. Her body seemed smaller somehow but her face looked far larger than the last time I'd glimpsed it. It was no longer gaunt but pale and bloated, the cheeks almost two pouches. As I watched, the mouth opened slightly and a trickle of blood ran down her chin and began to drip onto the floorboards. She licked her lips, opened her eyes and looked up at me as if she had all the time in the world.

    She'd been feeding. Feeding on the birds. She'd opened the skylight and then summoned the birds to her clawed, clutching hands, compelling them to fly to where she was waiting. Then, one by one, she'd begun to drink their blood, keeping the ones still alive close by with a spell of compulsion. They had wings but had lost the will to fly away.

    I'd no wings, though I did have legs. But my legs wouldn't obey me and I stood, rooted to the spot with fear. She came towards me very slowly. Maybe it was because she was heavy, being so bloated with blood. Maybe she felt there was no hurry.

    Had she scurried across the floor towards me, it would have been over. I'd never have left that attic. But she moved slowly. Very slowly. And the horror of watching her approach was enough to break the spell. Suddenly I was free. I could move. Move faster than I'd ever moved before.

    I had no thought of using either my chain or staff. My legs acted quicker than I could think. As the lamia crawled across the floorboards, I turned and ran. And as I ran, there was a flutter of wings from behind: my escape had released the waiting birds from the spell. Terrified, my heart hammering, I bounded down the stairs, making enough noise to wake the dead. But I didn't care. I just had to get outside and away from the lamia. Nothing else mattered. All my courage had gone.

    But someone was waiting for me in the shadows at the foot of the stairs.

    Meg.

    Why hadn't I turned off the stairway into the back bedroom? I should have concentrated. Thought carefully.

    Instead I'd panicked and missed my chance to escape. The feral lamia was too bloated with blood to move quickly. I'd have been able to open the window, position the plank and crawl across it to safety. And now my heavy feet thumping down the stairs had

    awakened Meg.

    She was there, between me and the front door. While somewhere behind me, probably already descending the stairs, was the feral lamia. Meg looked up at me, her pretty face widening into a smile. There was enough light to see that it wasn't a friendly smile. Suddenly she leaned towards me and sniffed loudly three times.

    'I once said I wouldn't give you to my sister,' she said. 'But that's all changed now. I know what you've done. There's a price to pay for that. A blood price!'

    I didn't answer because I was already retreating slowly up the stairs. I was still gripping the stub of candle so I thrust it into my breeches pocket. That done, I transferred my staff to my right hand and pulled out the silver chain from the left pocket of my sheepskin jacket.

    Meg must have seen the chain or sensed it, because suddenly she ran up the stairs directly at me, her hands held before her as if she wanted to rip out my eyes. I panicked, took quick aim and hurled the chain directly at her. It was a wild shot and it missed her head completely. But fortunately for me, it fell against her left shoulder and side. At its touch, she screamed out in agony and fell back against the wall.

    Seeing my chance, I ran past her and reached the foot of the stairs before turning to face her. At least now I didn't have the threat of her sister at my back. The chain was still on the steps above. All I had now was my staff of rowan wood. It was the most powerful wood of all to use against a witch. But Meg wasn't from the County; she was a lamia witch from a foreign land. Would it be effective against her?