In places, the small prints had been partly obliterated. It was almost as if some kind of snake had slithered over them. It might well be a tail.

Soon afterward I found fresh tracks. This new set of prints was heading roughly in the direction of Caster. At first I was elated and began to walk faster. But within an hour, my optimism began to fade.

The tracks had disappeared. I’d lost the trail completely.

I have certain gifts, courtesy of being a seventh son of a seventh son. However, I have inherited abilities from my mam, too. She was a good wife and mother, and loved my dad and all her sons, but she was also a lamia—the first that ever existed—and she passed some of her powers on to me.

One was the ability to track someone without physical evidence of their movements. I just knew where the people I sought were to be found. That gift had helped me in the past, but it could not be relied on, and now, no matter how hard I tried, I could sense no trace of the creature I was pursuing.

Disappointed, I turned and headed for home.

I arrived back at Chipenden about an hour before sunset. I was hungry and exhausted. To my annoyance, I found the girl there again; this time she was waiting on the edge of the garden.

“You look exhausted!” she exclaimed. “Have you had a difficult day?”

I walked straight past her, not bothering to reply. I’d almost reached the edge of the trees when she shouted something at my back.

“I know what’s been killing those girls! I know where the beastie lives!”

“How do you know about the dead girls? You’re lying!” I shouted angrily, turning back to confront her.

She stared into my eyes. “I don’t tell lies—and certainly not about spook’s business, where innocent victims are involved.

“Everybody knows,” she continued. “They’re talking about it in every village for miles. They’re scared for their families. Some think that John Gregory would have sorted the problem out by now.”

Her words were like a slap in the face. I felt hurt and angry, but I took a deep breath and controlled my feelings. I knew that she was telling the truth, and I had to face it.

It made me realize how isolated I was. That was the problem with being a spook—you never heard the local gossip or knew what people were thinking. It was even worse now that I was working alone. I had nobody with whom to share the burden and talk through concerns and problems.

“So you know what’s been doing the killing? Enlighten me!” I replied sarcastically.

“I don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s hairy and lives inside a tree. At night it wanders about and finds its way into people’s houses. It can change its size. I know that in one of those houses, a girl died. I heard about the other deaths—I’m thinking they might be the same.”