I broke out in a cold sweat. Had someone stolen it? I wondered. How could that have happened when the boggart guarded the garden?

I wondered if Grimalkin had taken it with her after all. That night, after burying my master, she had worked her magic to lessen the disfiguring scar where the mage Lukrasta had sliced open my face. Afterward we had both slept, and then, after saying a brief farewell, she had taken her leave. She’d had time to dig it out and put back the soil; after all, I had offered it back to her. It was her right to take it, but how dearly that might cost me now . . . without it, I would be vulnerable to this creature’s powerful magic.

Hope fading, my fingers continued their desperate search beneath the coffin. At last, to my relief, they touched metal. But pulling the sword free wasn’t easy. My fingers found the edge of the blade, and that was enough to cut them and draw blood. I struggled to free the hilt, aware that the threat to Jenny was growing with every passing second. At last I got a firm grip, and moments later I had pulled the blade out of the soil and was sprinting back in the direction of the beast’s lair.

Would I be in time to save Jenny? I feared that she might already be dead.

Once again the moon was out, and by its light I saw the oak tree ahead, clearly visible from a distance, a colossus that towered over the rest of the wood. I stopped running a couple of hundred yards short of it and continued more cautiously.

Speed was important, but I didn’t want to give the creature any warning of my arrival. Surprise might make all the difference here.

The wood was totally silent. Nothing moved in the undergrowth. I could hear nothing from the huge tree, either.

Gripping the sword in my right hand, I approached the massive trunk, searching for the ground-level door. I expected to find it closed and perhaps impossible to open. In that case, I would hammer on the trunk. I would lose the element of surprise, but I would at least draw him out, away from Jenny.

But, to my surprise, it was still ajar—just enough for me to insert the fingers of my left hand. I took a deep breath and eased the door open very slowly. The beast had its back to me, and Jenny was still hanging by her feet. But the creature was no longer using the pipe to draw blood from her neck. Its jaws were clamped about her shoulder, and it was snarling as it shook her body. Blood had soaked through her dress. It had bitten her all over her torso.

Filled with rage, I stepped inside and raised the sword, ready to strike.

Suddenly the creature let go of Jenny and, without bothering to turn and face me, addressed me in its rasping voice. It had known all along that I was entering its lair.