I knew what lay out there—the ghast that walked the street was even more dangerous than the two in the house. The Spook had told me about it the day after our visit here. There had been an old woman, a “rouser” paid by mine workers to wake them for their shift by rapping on their doors. But she used to creep into the houses and steal things. One day one of the householders caught her at it. She stabbed him to death and was hanged for the crime. Now, after dark, the ghast haunted the street, still trying to trick its way into the houses.

It fed on fear, but of course it couldn’t actually kill you. Though if you gave in to your terror, it could drive you to the edge of insanity.

Jenny was strong-minded. I felt confident that she would survive such an encounter. I hoped she wouldn’t open the door anyway.

“Whatever you do, don’t let the candle go out,” I continued.

My candle had gone out, but luckily I’d had a tinderbox in my pocket, a parting gift from Dad when I left home to become the Spook’s new apprentice. Jenny wouldn’t be able to light her candle again. So, in a sudden impulse of generosity, I pulled my tinderbox from my bag and held it out to her.

“Here. You can borrow this,” I said. “Take care of it; it was a present from my dad and has sentimental value.” Then, without another word, I went out through the front door, leaving her alone in the haunted house.

I knew what to do next. Long after my test, my master had told me what he routinely did with each apprentice: went round to the back door, slipped into the kitchen, and crept down the steps to the cellar.

So that’s what I did. A couple of minutes later I was crouching down there in the dark with my back against a barrel. All I had to do was wait for Jenny. She had to come down to the cellar at midnight. Once she’d done that, I would stand up and tell her she’d passed the test. But first she would have to withstand a few very unpleasant experiences.

The house was haunted by ghasts, not ghosts, so the manifestations weren’t aware of their surroundings. They were dark fragments of suffering spirits left behind when their larger selves had escaped to the light. They played over and over again the part of their lives that had resulted in trauma—as the girl would soon find out.

I waited. I hoped again that Jenny would have the sense to obey me and wouldn’t open the front door to the more dangerous ghast. It had tried to trick me into doing so by using Mam’s voice, plucking it from my mind and imitating it perfectly. I’d managed to resist the impulse to respond to it, but I wondered what voice the ghast would use to lure Jenny. No doubt someone from her past whom she liked and trusted. I suspected that if the girl did open the door, she’d be faced by something horrible—an old lady wielding a blade, with murder in her eyes.