Fury of the Seventh Son (Book 13) by Joseph Delaney Read Free Book Online Page B

significant would happen at Halloween, and I felt certain that the Wardstone would play a part.
    My mind returned to Tibb’s prophecy again; to the part that came before “and finally she will die for you.”
    I remember what had preceded it: Tibb had claimed that “she will betray you . . .”
    Isn’t that what Alice had just done? She’d been back from the dark for almost a week before bothering to tell me that she was safe, that she’d survived. And she’d known that I’d be desperate for news. Not only that; she’d gone off to use the Doomdryte , knowing that it was against everything my master and I believed in.
    Wasn’t that a betrayal?

CHAPTER VII
    A T ERRIBLE S CENE

    T HE following night I didn’t dream at all. It was a wonder, because I’d enough worries and anxieties to conjure a dozen nightmares.
    There was no nightmare.
    It was something far worse.
    Well before dawn, I suddenly awoke in a cold sweat, certain that something was terribly wrong. I got out of bed, trembling from head to foot, full of dread and a terrible sense of loss. I felt sure that somebody close to me had died—or at least been badly injured.
    My master!
    I ran downstairs. The Spook was in the kitchen. He didn’t sleep in his bed every night. Sometimes his back felt stiff and sore of a morning, so he dozed upright in a chair. He was in his armchair now, close to the embers of the fire. He was very still.
    Was he breathing?
    I walked slowly across the flags toward him. I was expecting the worst, but suddenly he opened his eyes, stared up at me, and scratched his beard.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, lad? You look as white as a sheet.” “There’s something not right. Something’s happened to someone, I feel sure—something terrible.”
    â€œPerhaps it’s nothing, lad.” My master rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Maybe you just woke from a bad dream and carried the feeling of unease back with you. That happens sometimes.”
    â€œI wasn’t dreaming.”
    â€œDreams can be forgotten at the instant of waking. You can’t be sure of that,” said the Spook.
    I shook my head. “I need to go outside,” I told him.
    Full of apprehension, I went out into the garden. The dark sky was covered with uniform light-gray cloud; it was starting to drizzle. I shivered. The feeling of dread and loss was stronger than ever.
    Suddenly there was something like a flash of light right inside my skull, and a pain in the center of my forehead. And now the wrongness had a direction. Its source was some distance away, in a southeasterly direction.
    I heard the Spook approach and stand at my side.
    â€œWhatever is wrong, it’s over there. . . .” I pointed through the trees.
    â€œIt could be dark magic,” said my master, “luring you out into a trap. The servants of the Fiend will never give in. We must be on our guard.”
    â€œIt’s strange. I’ve never felt like this before. I’m scared. . . . But you could be right—it might just be a trap.” I began to pace up and down, my stomach churning with anxiety while the Spook stared at me, clearly concerned and alarmed.
    â€œTake deep breaths, lad. Try to calm yourself. It’ll pass in a few moments.”
    â€œBut what if it doesn’t?” I demanded, coming to a halt and looking him right in the eye.
    All at once the need to go and investigate became overwhelming. “I have to go!” I cried out. “I have to see for myself what’s wrong or I can never rest.”
    The Spook stared into the trees for over a minute without speaking. Then he simply nodded.
    Five minutes later we’d left the garden and were striding southeast. I was carrying both bags, as usual, as well as my staff. In addition to his own staff, the Spook had also brought a lantern, as dawn was still some way off. I didn’t know how far we had to