Page 14 of Spirit Witch
‘Three miles?’
He nodded. ‘So it’s a six-mile round trip.’
‘Can’t we drive?’
‘Even a Sherman tank would struggle across this terrain. We can walk it. There’s a path.’
‘But there are hills. And – bogs.’
‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘Can you make it?’
I pressed my hand to my forehead. ‘Actually, I’m starting to feel a bit weak again. My legs are rubbery. Maybe you should go and check it out and I’ll go into the pub and see what the locals know.’
The corners of Winter’s mouth twitched. He tried to suppress the broad grin that was slowly spreading across his face but it was clearly beyond him. ‘Thank goodness. It’s about time,’ he said. ‘Now I know you’re really feeling better.’ He sucked in a deep lungful air. ‘Perhaps being outdoors will do you good.’
Wait a second. If he could change his mind that quickly about this venture, then I could change mine. Especially when it involved six miles of trudging across moors. ‘But I’m still not entirely myself yet.’
‘Actually, I think you are.’
‘You were right the first time. Ipsissimus Grenville might have been corrupted by all those years as a dead guy. We might be walking into a trap.’ I shook my head. ‘This is a mistake.’
‘Too late, sweetheart.’ He put his arm round my shoulders. ‘I’m glad you’re back to being Ivy again. I’ve missed your complaining and your laziness.’
‘I don’t complain!’
Winter laughed. ‘Of course you don’t.’ He held me at arm’s length and looked me up and down. ‘The pain has gone. I can’t see any trace of it.’
Actually, it tended to reappear when I was least expecting it but I wasn’t going to tell Winter that. ‘Arse,’ I said. ‘I suppose three miles isn’t that far.’ I’d barely finished the sentence when the first fat droplet of rain splashed onto my nose. I shivered and turned hopeful eyes to Winter.
‘If we want to get there and back before it gets dark,’ he said, ‘we should go now.’
I grimaced. Another drop of rain fell, this time sliding down the back of my neck. Lovely. ‘Let’s get going.’
It wasn’t too bad to begin with. Despite the rain, which was increasing in ferocity by the second and decreasing the temperature, the path was firm underfoot and clearly marked. There were a couple of stiles to clamber over but I managed. Winter even held himself back from racing across the landscape like a mountain goat and kept pace with me. I tested him by slowing down almost to the point where I was just shuffling along.
He stopped and threw me a look. ‘Ivy…’
I smirked. ‘I wanted to see how far I could push you.’
He rolled his eyes although he was obviously more amused than annoyed. I had to milk this for all it was worth; Winter’s patience wouldn’t last forever. I pointed ahead at the next wooden stile.
‘That’s a kissing gate,’ I said, pasting on an innocent expression. ‘I wonder why it’s called that. Maybe we should…’ My voice faltered as a shadow crossed my path. I looked up to see a grizzled old man leaning on a walking stick and staring at me.
Winter stiffened. ‘There’s another one, isn’t there?’
I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. ‘Wistman’s Wood?’ I asked. ‘It’s that way, right?’
The ghost took his time answering. Eventually, he rubbed his cheek and bobbed his head with slow, ponderous movements. ‘It is, aye. They’re waiting for you. They’ll be glad you came.’ He turned and trudged up the hill away from us. I watched him as he vanished into the rolling fog that seemed to have appeared from nowhere and was rapidly descending towards us.
‘He’s gone,’ I murmured to Winter, my sense of humour all but vanished along with the old man. ‘Let’s get a move on.’
‘What did he say?’
I pursed my lips. ‘That they’re waiting for us.’
‘Who?’
‘The dead witches, I imagine,’ I said quietly.
