Free The Spook's Blood (Wardstone Chronicles) by Delaney Joseph Page B

Every year a lawyer comes to check that they are still present in this library. If they are not, I forfeit the house.’ There was a finality about her words that gave my master no room for manoeuvre.
    ‘Is Judd around?’ he asked. ‘I’d like to have a few words with him.’
    ‘He set off early on business,’ she replied, returning the forbidden book to the shelves before leaving us without another word.
    We continued our work in silence. I knew that my master was thinking hard, but short of stealing the book there was nothing he could do. John Gregory was an honourable man and certainly no thief.
    At last, after another search of the shelves, we narrowed our choice of books down to three hundred and five.
    ‘Right, lad, we’re just about finished, so get yourself across the river and find us someone willing to cart these books to Chipenden.’
    I nodded and, carrying my staff, set off through the trees towards the bridge. It was late afternoon and the air was still warm and heavy with the drone of insects. I was glad when I emerged from under those leafy branches into the open air. The sky was cloudless and there was just the lightest of breezes from the west.
    Crossing the bridge back to the County side of the town, I noticed that, in contrast to the bustle of the previous day, it was almost deserted. It suddenly struck me that the innkeeper was right – hiring a horse and cart would be no easy task. But it proved even harder than I expected. The first two men I approached hurried wordlessly past me, a look of disapproval in their eyes. Strangers just weren’t welcome here. Or was it the fact that I was wearing the hood and gown of a spook and carrying a staff? Because spooks dealt with the dark, people were always nervous around us and sometimes even crossed the road to avoid us. But accustomed as I was to such reactions, this seemed more extreme. I felt sure that something was wrong about this place.
    In a carpenter’s workshop I had my first piece of luck. The man rested his saw long enough to listen to my question. Then he nodded.
    ‘There’s no townie here does that kind of work, but old Billy Benson has a horse and cart and he’s always short of money. Maybe he’d do it if the price was right.’
    ‘Thanks. Where will I find him?’ I asked.
    ‘At Benson’s Farm, of course,’ the man replied in a tone that suggested that
everyone
knew that. ‘Go north out of the town; it’s over the top of the moors. You’ll see the track. He runs a few scraggy sheep.’
    ‘How far is it?’ I asked.
    ‘You’re young and fit. Shake yourself and you could be there and back by nightfall.’
    Mumbling thanks for the second time, I left the premises and set off at a jog. What choice did I have? No doubt the Spook would be unhappy that I was taking so long, but we really did need the transport.
    It soon became apparent that I was not likely to return to Todmorden by nightfall. It took me well over two hours to reach the end of the meandering track across the moors. As I walked , my thoughts turned once more to Alice and the lies I had told her. My heart felt heavy, and I thought of the future with dread. It seemed we were growing apart. With her increasing use of dark magic, we were following diverging paths.
    The farmhouse, when I finally reached it, was a small ramshackle building with slates missing from the roof. When I knocked on the door there was no reply, but I was pleased to see a couple of horses tethered behind the house, and a cart that, although it had clearly seen far better days, at least had four wheels. Mr Benson was no doubt out tending his sheep.
    I waited almost an hour, and was just about to give up and go back to Todmorden when a wiry old farmer with a collie at his heels came into view.
    ‘Be off with you!’ he cried, waving his stick at me. ‘Strangers ain’t welcome here! Be off or I’ll set my dog on you!’
    I stood my ground and waited for him to reach me. The dog didn’t look