He stood, waiting for his heart to slow to normal. The path along the fence, which he had to follow if he was to go on, led through a thicket.

Isaac took a deep breath.

Only a little farther, he reasoned. Then he’d be able to rest. If his father was right, he could open that casket in the safety of this Rookskill place. He’d find answers. Maybe he’d see his parents again. Maybe he’d understand at last.

But maybe he’d touch that orb again and fall into another awful vision.

Isaac squared his shoulders and pressed on despite the thump, thump of his heart.

CHAPTER 12

The Wraith

A wraith lives in the forest that surrounds Rookskill Castle.

Wards, magic invisible barriers, have been made round the castle itself to protect it, wards made by someone living inside the castle, but the forest wraith has crept as close as it can. It hides in a rough shelter barely fit for a badger. It radiates loss and menace and ancient witchery, powerful magic that it has cultivated for centuries. The wraith has journeyed through time and space—over and over again—to be close to Rookskill.

Thanks to the wraith’s magic, the forest beyond the wards has grown dismal of late and good for hiding. Thorns have sprouted in the thickets. Twining brambles have grown up tree trunks. Wolves have not been seen in this part of the world for a hundred years or more, but now they howl in the glens. The wraith, a creature that was once at least part human, has drawn this malevolence.

The wraith has been reduced to its shadowy form by desire. It wants a small silvery object that rests in the pocket of a girl inside the castle.

Strange little creatures surround the wraith. They are tiny mechanicals made of bits and pieces of living beings and parts of metal and leather and wood. They skitter and scurry and squeal, eyes blink-blinking in terror. They try to hide but cannot evade their master when it reaches for them, grasping, clawing, ripping.

As it will grasp, claw, and rip any who lie in the way of what it wants, the shiny object that is the target to its poisonous arrow. Oh, such desire! Such longing! Oh, for those wards to fall!

For this small silvery object contains a soul that, to the wraith, is most dear.

CHAPTER 13

Isaac

1942

About half a mile from the main gate, Isaac found, as the stationmaster had said, a smaller unlocked gate in the fence. He went through, entering the towering thick forest that lay beyond.

It was a dank and gloomy place. It smelled of age and mushrooms. The steady drip-drip of water from leaves that were saturated in mist was the only sound. Every step of Isaac’s tired feet went deep into squishy moss.