The Spook's Apprentice Read Online Free PDF Page A

going down to the cellar.’
    He took a step towards the front door.
    ‘What’s the third thing?’ I called out at the very last moment.
    ‘The candle, lad. Whatever else you do, don’t let it go out...’
    Then he was gone, closing the door behind him, and I was all alone. Cautiously I picked up the candle, walked to the kitchen door and peered inside. It was empty of everything but a stone sink. The back door was closed but the wind still wailed beneath it. There were two other doors on the right. One was open and I could see the bare wooden stairs that led to the bedrooms above. The other one, that closest to me, was closed.
    Something about that closed door made me uneasy but I decided to take a quick look. Nervously I gripped the handle and tugged at the door. It was hard to shift and for a moment I had a creepy feeling that somebody was holding it closed on the other side. When I tugged even harder, it opened with a jerk, making me lose my balance. I staggered back a couple of steps and almost dropped the candle.
    Stone steps led down into the darkness; they were black with coal dust. They curved away to the left so I couldn’t see right down into the cellar, but a cold draught came up them, making the candle flame dance and flicker. I closed the door quickly and went back into the front room, closing the kitchen door too.
    I put the candle down carefully in the corner furthest away from the door and window. Once I was satisfied that it wouldn’t fall over, I looked for a place on the floor where I could sleep. There wasn’t much choice. I certainly wasn’t sleeping on the damp straw, so I settled down in the centre of the room.
    The flags were hard and cold but I closed my eyes. Once asleep, I’d be away from that grim old house and I felt pretty confident that I’d wake just before midnight.
    Usually I get to sleep easily but this was different. I kept shivering with cold and the wind was beginning to rattle the windowpanes. There were also rustlings and patterings coming from the walls. Just mice, I kept telling myself. We were certainly used to them on the farm. But then, suddenly, there came a disturbing new sound from down below in the depths of the dark cellar.
    At first it was faint, making me strain my ears, but gradually it grew until I was in no doubt about what I could hear. Down in the cellar, something was happening that shouldn’t be happening. Someone was digging rhythmically, turning heavy earth with a sharp metal spade. First came the grind of the metal edge striking a stony surface, followed by a soft, squelching, sucking sound as the spade pushed deep into heavy clay and tore it free from the earth.
    This went on for several minutes until the noise stopped as suddenly as it had begun. All was quiet. Even the mice stopped their pattering. It was as if the house and everything in it were holding their breath. I know I was.
    The silence ended with a resounding thump. Then a whole series of thumps, definite in rhythm. Thumps that were getting louder. And louder. And closer ...
    Someone was climbing the stairs from the cellar.
    I snatched up the candle and shrank into the furthest corner. Thump, thump, nearer and nearer, came the sound of heavy boots. Who could have been digging down there in the darkness? Who could be climbing the stairs now?
    But maybe it wasn’t a question of who was climbing the stairs. Maybe it was a question of what...
    I heard the cellar door open and the thump of boots in the kitchen. I pressed myself back into the corner, trying to make myself small, waiting for the kitchen door to open.
    And open it did, very slowly, with a loud creak. Something stepped into the room. I felt coldness then. Real coldness. The kind of coldness that told me something was close that didn’t belong on this earth. It was like the coldness of Hangman’s Hill, only far, far worse.
    I lifted the candle, its flame flickering eerie shadows which danced up the walls and onto the