Chapters (76)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Karen Brooks
- Title Page
- Dedication
- EXPLANATORY NOTE
- PART ONE
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- PART TWO
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- PART THREE
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- PART FOUR
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Epilogue: Autumn 1706
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- GLOSSARY
- LIST OF CHARACTERS
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
There wasn’t a mark upon the lad, just his sinewy legs and pale arms dusted with dark hair. He was a fine-looking young man, strapping and strong. It pained Patrick to see him brought low. To see that a curse wielded by ancient, devil-cursed witches could bring down such a one.
With great tenderness he touched Peter’s neck, then his shoulders, asking if he hurt. When Peter shook his head, Patrick frowned.
‘Can you tell me what caused you to fall that day, Peter?’
Peter stared, his eyes bulged, his lips contorted.
‘Aye, you can talk now,’ said Patrick, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.
‘Nae, reverend,’ Peter croaked. ‘Though I did see a charm before the smithy. As soon as I laid eyes upon it, the feeling came over me.’
‘The feeling?’
‘Of a mighty powerful dread. Like my body was no longer in my possession. As if someone else had control.’
‘You mean like a puppet whose strings were being pulled?’
‘Aye, by an unseen hand.’
Patrick regarded Peter closely, then leaned back in the chair. Holding his narrow chin in his long fingers, he continued to study the boy carefully. ‘I see. Can you describe the charm?’
‘’Twas a bucket and it had smoke rising from it.’ Peter’s lips began to tremble. ‘I ken what that means, reverend. ’Tis a water charm that conjures up a storm, bringing ill-luck upon those who spy it. I felt it strike me straight away, as if I’d been bludgeoned.’ He paused and raised his eyes to the reverend’s. ‘Do you believe me, sir?’
‘Aye, I do, lad. I do.’
Peter’s eyes filled with tears and he squeezed the reverend’s hand in gratitude.
‘You see,’ said Patrick, leaning on the bed and tilting towards him, ‘this wouldn’t be the first time someone like yourself has fallen victim to the wicked ways of those who are in league with the devil.’
‘But why me, sir?’ asked Peter in a small voice.
‘You might well ask that. The devil likes to terrorise the innocent in the hope of converting them to his dark doings, using fear to force them to do his bidding. He recruits souls into his evil army. The more he recruits, the greater his force and the harder it is for others to resist. You wouldn’t be the first and you won’t be the last.’
Peter stared in horror. ‘There’s been others?’