'So, as I said, I stopped Morgan in time. I terminated his apprenticeship and took the grimoire off him. Then his mother and I made him promise that he on would leave Golgoth alone and not try to raise him again. She believed his promise, and for her sake I gave him every chance and always hoped that her faith in him would be justified. But as I'd stopped him part of the way through the ritual, some of the power of Golgoth had already awoken and attached itself to him. Your mother was right - this is going to be a bitter winter. I'm convinced thafs to do with Golgoth and Morgan. After Morgan left my care, he turned to the dark and his powers have steadily increased. And he thinks that the grimoire will give him ultimate power.

    'Already he can do things that a man shouldn't. Some are little more than conjuring tricks, like changing the temperature in a room to impress the gullible. But now it seems that he can also bind the dead to his will - not just ghosts but also spirits that hover in Limbo between this life and the other side. It pains me to say this, lad, but it looks very bad. I really do fear that Morgan has the ability to hurt your poor dad's spirit...'

    The Spook looked up at the skylight, then down at the writing desk. He shook his head sadly. 'Well, lad, get yourself downstairs and we'll talk this through some more ...'

    Fifteen minutes later my master was sitting there quietly in Meg's rocking chair and pea soup was simmering away in a pan.

    'Got much appetite, lad?' he asked.

    'I've not eaten since yesterday' I told him.

    At that he grinned, revealing the gap where the boggart had knocked out his front tooth, got up, put two bowls on the table and ladled hot soup into them. Soon I was dunking bread into the delicious steaming soup. The Spook didn't bother with the bread but he did empty his bowl.

    'I am really sorry your dad's passed away' he said, pushing the empty bowl away from him. 'He should have had nothing to fear after death. Unfortunately Morgan's using the power of Golgoth to hurt your dad and get at you through him. But don't worry, lad, we're going to put a stop to it just as soon as we can.

    And as for the other nonsense, Morgan's not my son and never was.' He looked straight into my eyes again. 'Well, do you believe me?'

    I nodded, but I can't have done it convincingly enough because the Spook sighed and shook his head. 'Well, lad, either he's a liar or I am. You'd better decide which one of us it is. If there's no trust between us, there's no point in you carrying on as my apprentice. But one thing's for sure, I wouldn't let you go off with him. Before that I'd take you by the scruff of your neck, give you back to your mother and let her knock some sense into that thick head.'

    His tone was harsh, and after all that had happened I felt really upset. 'You couldn't take me back to my mother' I told him bitterly. 'I was too late for the funeral and I didn't even get to see her. Afterwards she went off somewhere - maybe back to her own land. I don't think she'll be coming back...'

    'Well, give her space, lad. She's just lost her husband and needs time to mourn and think. But you'll be seeing her again and not before too long, I'm sure. And

    that's not prophecy. It's good common sense. If she goes, she goes, but she'll want to say a proper farewell to all her sons before she does.

    'Anyway, it's a terrible thing that Morgan's been doing, but don't worry - I will find him and stop.him once and for all.'

    I was too weary to say anything, so I just nodded my head. I hoped he was right.

The Chapel of the Dead

    For all the Spook's promises, it wasn't possible to deal with Morgan right away. For the next two weeks the weather was so bad, we hardly ever went outdoors. Blizzard after blizzard surged up the clough, whirling snow against the windows and burying the front of the house almost up to the level of the first-floor bedrooms. I was starting to believe that Golgoth had indeed been woken and was grateful that Shanks had had the foresight to deliver extra provisions. When the Tuesday that Morgan had appointed for our meeting arrived, I was nervous and half-expected to see him turn up at the house. But the blizzards were so bad that no one would have made it    across the moor. Still, every hour trapped in that house felt like torture. I was desperate to get out and find Morgan and put an end to my father's misery.

    My master made us carry on with our usual routine of sleeping, eating and lessons during the blizzard, but something new was added. Every afternoon he went down the steps to the cellar to talk to Meg and take her something to eat. Usually it was just a few biscuits, but sometimes he carried the remainder of our lunch down. I wondered what the two of them talked about when he was down there, though I knew better than to ask. We'd agreed no more secrets but I realized the Spook still expected some privacy.

    The other two witches had to manage the best they could, chewing on worms, slugs and anything else they could grub out of the damp earth, but Meg was still a special case. I half expected that, one day soon, the Spook would give Meg her herb tea again and bring her up from the cellar. She was certainly a far better cook than either of us, but after all that had happened I couldn't help feeling safer with her down in the pit. I did worry about the Spook though. Had he gone soft? After all his warnings about not trusting women, here he was breaking all his own rules again. I felt like telling him as much, but how could I when I could see that he was upset about Meg?

    He still wasn't eating properly and one morning his eyes were red and swollen, as if he'd been rubbing them. I even wondered if he'd been crying and that made me think about how I would behave in a similar situation. What if I were the Spook, with Alice down there in the pit? Wouldn't I be doing the same? I was also wondering how Alice was getting on. If the weather ever improved, I'd decided to ask my master if I could pay a visit to Andrew's shop to visit her again.

    Then, unexpectedly, one morning the weather did change. I'd kept thinking about the threat to Dad, hoping that, first chance, we'd be off after Morgan. But it wasn't to be. With the sunshine came spooks' business. My master and I were called away east, to Piatt Farm. It was boggart trouble, or so it seemed.

    It was an hour or so before we could get started because first the Spook cut himself a new staff of rowan wood, and when we finally arrived, after a two-hour slog through the deep snow, there was no sign at all that a boggart had been in the vicinity and the farmer apologized profusely for being mistaken, blaming it on his wife, who was prone to sleepwalking. He said she'd moved things in the kitchen and clattered pots and pans to disturb the household, waking up the following morning without any memory of having done so. He seemed embarrassed at having called us out for nothing and almost too eager to pay the Spook for his trouble.

    I was furious that we'd wasted precious time and told the Spook as much on the way back. He agreed. T smell a rat,' he said. 'Unless I'm mistaken, lad, we've been sent on a wild goose chase. Ever seen anyone so keen to put his hand in his pocket and pay?'

    I shook my head and we doubled our pace, the Spook out in the lead, eager to get home. We arrived to find the back door was already open. The lock had been forced. After checking that the cellar door and the gate were still secure, the Spook told me to wait in the kitchen and went upstairs. Five minutes later he came down shaking his head angrily.

    'The grimoire's been taken!' he said. 'Well, lad, we certainly know who we're looking for! Who else would it be but Morgan? He's got Golgoth in his power enough to stop the snow, and then he plots and schemes to rob us.'