The Crowfield Demon (26 page)

“I fear you may be right.” Brother Snail sounded worried. “The demon followed us through the forest, but it made no attempt to stop us from bringing the bowl to you. Perhaps we should abandon the summoning.”

“If we do that, we are letting go of our only chance to imprison it again,” Sir Robert said.

“What if it doesn't work?” William asked.

Sir Robert said nothing.

“We have no choice but to continue,” Shadlok said.

Sir Robert nodded. “I agree. Brother Snail? Are you with us on this?”

The monk put a hand on the wall to steady himself and shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “In all conscience, I cannot say I am.”

“William?” Sir Robert said. “What do you think?”

With an apologetic glance at Brother Snail, William nodded. “We have to try.”

“I'm sorry, Brother,” Sir Robert said gently, “it's three against one.”

“Very well,” Brother Snail whispered. “Do what you have to do.”

They watched from beside the fireplace as Sir Robert carefully drew two circles on the floorboards, one inside the other, with a lump of chalk. He murmured words that sounded strange to William's ears. Brother Snail lowered himself awkwardly to his knees. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands so tightly that the knuckles and joints were white, and he started to pray.

When Sir Robert finished drawing the circles, he placed the bowl on the floor between the two. He straightened up and turned to the others. His face was pale and tense. A muscle twitched below one eye, so it seemed as if he was winking at them. William might have found it funny if he wasn't feeling sick with fear.

“I will cast a circle of protection around me when I am ready to begin the summoning. You are welcome to stand inside it with me,” Sir Robert said.

“Will we be safe if we stay outside the circle?” Shadlok asked.

Sir Robert nodded to the circle he had already cast. “The demon will be imprisoned in there, so yes, I believe you should be. But you must remain still and silent throughout, not a word or so much as a movement of the head. Is that understood?”

William wondered if shaking with terror counted, but he just nodded.

Sir Robert hesitated for several moments. He appeared calm and in control, but William saw the apprehension in his eyes. “I would have preferred it if I'd had time to prepare for this properly. There are certain rituals and observances that should be made before a summoning of this nature. And it would have been better to wait until the full of the moon. As it is, the moon is waning, and that is not a good time to attempt work such as this.”

“Even so, we must do this
now
,” Shadlok insisted.

Sir Robert nodded. “I know. But there is one other thing . . .”

Shadlok folded his arms and regarded the man coldly. “What?”

Sir Robert glanced down at the bowl, then looked at William. “To complete the ritual, I need the blood of an innocent. It is what the creature craves to make it strong and will draw the demon to us more surely than anything else.”

Brother Snail recoiled in horror and struggled to his feet. He understood immediately what the man was saying. “No!
No!
You will not touch the boy!”

“I need only a few drops,” Sir Robert said quickly. “His blood is necessary for the summoning to work.”

William put a hand to the scratches on his face. “Dame Alys took some of my blood yesterday.”

“I take it you didn't give it to her of your own free will?” Sir Robert asked sharply.

William shook his head.

“That's something, at least. If she means to summon the demon, then your blood will be of limited use to her if it wasn't given freely.”

“If you do this, then you are no better than Dame Alys and her ancestors,” Brother Snail said softly, a look of disgust on his face.

“
You
came to
me
for help,” Sir Robert reminded him coldly. “You can take it or leave it, the choice is yours.”

“Is there no other way to do the ritual?” William asked.

“We can do it without the blood offering, but I can't be certain it will work.”

William glanced at Brother Snail. “The blood is mine, so the choice is mine, too.” He held his arm out to Sir Robert. “Do it.”

“Will!” Brother Snail sounded shocked. “Think what you are doing!”

“I have,” William said.

Without a word, Shadlok stepped forward and took his knife from its sheath. He held William's wrist and drew the point of the blade across his palm. There was a sting of pain, and blood welled from the cut. Sir Robert picked up the cursed bowl and hurried forward. Shadlok turned William's hand to allow drops of blood to fall into the bowl, where they gleamed wetly against the dark wood. Shadlok sheathed his knife and let go of William's arm. Sir Robert returned the bowl to the edge of the chalk circle. Brother Snail knelt again, his eyes gleaming with tears.

William squeezed his hand into a fist. He could feel the blood in his palm. He ignored the ache from the cut and watched as the ritual began.

Sir Robert took one of the books from the table. He opened it at a particular page and put the book on the floor in front of him. He squatted down and began to draw around himself with the lump of chalk.

With infinite care, he copied the drawing of a circle from the book onto the floorboards. He quartered it with straight lines, and then quartered it again. He drew complicated sigils around the inner curve of the circle and between the lines, and then added words, until at last it was complete. He picked up the book and got to his feet. Taking several deep breaths, he squared his shoulders and slowly began to read the words of magic out loud.

To William, the words were just sounds without any meaning, but he felt their power humming in the air around the chamber. He glanced down at Brother Snail. The monk's lips moved in silent, desperate prayer. Beside him, Shadlok looked as if he had been carved from stone.

Sir Robert's voice rose as the words gathered strength. The chalk markings around him started to glimmer with a pale and eerie glow. The demon's circles scorched the floorboards, and the air within them wavered like a heat haze. There was an acrid smell of burnt wood, mingled with the sickly sweet stench of decay, which caught in the back of William's throat and made him gag. A dark red form glimmered into view and gradually took shape.

William could barely breathe, and his body was rigid with fear. He grabbed Shadlok's arm and held tightly. At first, all he could see of the demon were crimson-feathered wings, which wrapped its body from head to foot. Sir Robert's face shone with sweat. His voice took on a husky tremble, but he didn't falter, even when the wings slowly started to unfurl. They spread to the very edge of the inner circle, and for the first time William saw the demon clearly. Forgetting Sir Robert's instruction not to move, he sank to his knees beside Brother Snail.

Raum, the fallen angel and demon, was surrounded by a deep red glow.
Like the light of hell
, William thought. The demon had the head of a crow, though the feathers were crimson rather than black, and it wore a long, dark red robe. As far as William could see, it had the body and limbs of a human, and its skin was a dusky red.

Sir Robert pointed to the bloodstained bowl. His voice rose and it held an unmistakable note of command. Brilliant white sparks of light crackled inside his protective circle. Several touched his skin, and he flinched as they burned him. The demon turned its head to look at him with one dark, unblinking eye.

William jumped when Brother Snail clutched his arm. “It isn't working!” the monk whispered, panic-stricken.

William fought to stay calm. Sir Robert's voice rose to a shout as he tried to force the demon to obey him. His skin had taken on a gray tinge now, and his eyes were wide and bulging with terror. William realized Brother Snail was right; the ancient words were not working. Their magic was strong, but not nearly strong enough.

And then the demon spread its wings wide so that they crossed the barrier of the circle as if it simply wasn't there. William fell back against the wall and stared in revulsion as the demon reached down and dipped its fingertips in the blood in the bottom of the bowl. It opened its beak and wiped its fingers on its tongue, tasting the blood. It held a hand over the bowl and white light speared out from its palm. A moment later, all that was left of the bowl was a small pile of ash.

The demon was free.

The words of power died on Sir Robert's lips, and he cowered as the demon stepped out of the circle. The chalk circle around Sir Robert no longer glowed. The demon put out a foot and, slowly and deliberately, rubbed out one of the protective sigils. Sir Robert moaned softly and hid his face in his hands. The demon stretched out a finger and leaned down to touch the man on the forehead. Sir Robert fell forward with a gurgling sound in his throat and lay there, half in and half out of the circle.

The demon turned its head and looked at William and the others.

“Run!” Shadlok yelled, hauling William and Brother Snail to their feet and shoving them toward the door. “Go! As fast as you can! I will cover you.”

William grabbed the monk and dragged him to the doorway. He was beyond coherent thought, beyond fear. His desperation to escape gave his body the strength it needed to get Brother Snail out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the yard, where they collapsed into a heap on the cobbles. William rolled onto his back, barely noticing the puddles and mud soaking into his clothes and hair. Tears slid down his cheeks, and he closed his eyes tightly.

“Where's Sir Robert?” someone demanded sharply. William recognized Master Woodcote's voice and he winced as the steward kicked his leg. “Answer me, boy! Where is he?”

“It didn't work,” William rasped. “We failed. I think Sir Robert is dead.”

C
HAPTER
TWENTY-NINE

W
illiam sat up. He wiped his face with his sleeve and looked around for Brother Snail. The monk was lying in a puddle nearby. William leaned over and shook his shoulder. “Brother Snail? Are you all right?”

The monk moaned softly. William knelt over him anxiously.

“What have we done, Will?” Brother Snail whispered. Mud streaked his face, and his habit was wet with puddle water. William stood up and, as gently as he could, helped Brother Snail to his feet. The monk held tightly to William's arm for support.

By now, a small crowd of manor servants had gathered around them. William recognized several of them from his hour spent in the kitchen. They whispered and muttered between themselves as they wondered what was going on. Master Brice took charge of Brother Snail.

“Come with me back to the kitchen now, Brother, and let's get you cleaned up,” the cook said soothingly, as if he were speaking to a small child. He led the monk toward the open door of the cross passage. “The rest of you, get back to work.”

William noticed a group of stonemasons watching the commotion from the far end of the courtyard. Master Guillaume and Reynaud were amongst them. They stood silently, glancing up at the shuttered windows of Sir Robert's private chambers and staring with open hostility at William.

“What happened?” one of the kitchen servants asked, peering curiously at William. Finding two visitors from the abbey lying in puddles was not something that happened every day. William ducked his head and pushed past him.

William stood in the manor doorway and tried to find the courage to go up the stairs after Master Woodcote. He felt guilty that he hadn't tried to warn the steward what was waiting for him up there. But more than that, he was worried about Shadlok. Had the demon attacked him, too? Was he dead? William had just put a foot on the bottom step when he heard voices. To his enormous relief, he realized one of them was Shadlok's, and the other was Master Woodcote's. He hurried up the staircase and into Sir Robert's chambers.

The demon had gone. William was surprised to see that Sir Robert wasn't dead after all. He was lying on the floor by one of the windows, moaning softly. The shutter had been pulled open, allowing a little daylight into the room. Master Woodcote was leaning over Sir Robert, his plump face white with shock. Shadlok was kneeling nearby and rubbing away the chalk marks on the floor with a cloth. The demon's circle, however, had been burned deeply into the floorboards. The ash from the bowl stirred in the draft from the open door and lifted in a fine gray cloud. It mingled with the chalk dust swirling slowly in the light from the window.

“Where did the demon go?” William asked.

Shadlok sat back on his heels and glanced at William. “I do not know, but it has not gone very far. I can still feel it close by. How is the monk?”

“He's very shaken. Master Brice has taken him to the kitchen.” William thought of the cook's good-humored face. “He's in safe hands.” He nodded to Sir Robert. “Will he be all right?”