Booth - Soul Stealer

Text copyright 2003 by Martin Booth

First U.S. hardcover edition published by Little, Brown and Company in 2005

First published in Great Britain by Puffin Books in 2003

Readers Guide copyright 2006 by Little, Brown and Company

All rights reserved.

Little, Brown and Company

Warner Books, Inc.

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First eBook Edition: October 2009

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-0-316-08719-3

For my familyAlex, Emma and my wife,

Helenwho helped beat back my own demon
in order to write this story

SOUL STEALER

Martin Booth says: All the magic in Soul Stealer is real: the chants, the herbs, the potions and the equipment. The colophon used in this book is an ancient alchemical sign referring to the caput mortuum, a deaths head or skull: it symbolizes decay and decline. It is, even today, still used as a common curse in southern Italy and the Balkans. The other colophon is the alchemical symbol for aurum potabile or liquid gold, which was thought to be a youth-giving potion or the elixir of life.

Alchemy, a curious blend of magic and science, was the chemistry of the Middle Ages. People who studied alchemy were called alchemists and they devoted their lives to the quest for the elixir of life, the creation of a homunculus (an artificial man) and the means to turn ordinary (or ignoble) metal, like iron or lead, into a noble metal, like gold or silver. This was known as transmutation, a term also used in nuclear science to mean the conversion of one element into another, either naturally or by artificial means.

P ip opened her eyes and looked blearily at her alarm clock. The digital numbers flicked over to read 6:57 a.m. She slowly sat up, stretched and, pushing the curtains aside without getting out of bed, peered out of the window. A thin veil of river mist hung over the fields surrounding the old manor house of Rawne Barton, the trees outlined against the gray light like the veins in skeletal leaves. The hills in the distance were barely visible, the quarry little more than a faint dark scar upon them. A robin settled momentarily on the window sill, puffed out its orange breast, chirped once and flitted off. She loved these early moments when she was still half asleep and the world, like her, had not yet fully woken up.

Yet, somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she felt a gnawing apprehension which at first she could not place. Then, gradually, she realized the cause of it. This was to be the first day of term, a new term in a new school and a secondary school, at that.

Reaching for the window, Pip opened the latch. A cool, damp drift of air filtered into the room. It smelled of the first falling leaves of autumn and the grass her father had mown the day before. Feeling its chill, she snuggled back down under the duvet, preserving the last vestiges of warmth.

Suddenly, through the open window, Pip heard a noise. It sounded bizarrely like an animal roaring somewhere far off, followed by someone clicking heavy sticks together. The hair went up on the back of her neck. It was an unearthly sound, echoing in the mist yet also muffled by it. It was unlike anything she had ever heard before.

As she slipped quickly out of bed, Pips toes curled with fear as they felt for her slippers. She was afraid, yet at the same time, intensely curious. The noises had to have a rational explanation, had to be made by an animal of some sort and yet, at the same time, she could think of no wild animals in England that, outside of a zoo, even remotely roared.

As she stood up, the noise ceased abruptly. Pip wondered if she had simply imagined it, that it was nothing more than a remnant of the last dream she had had before waking. In recent weeks, her dreams had become quite vivid and fantastical. This, she considered to herself, was hardly surprising after the events of the summer holidays. Indeed, after them, if there were a saber-toothed tiger loose in the English countryside, released by some evil force or twisted mind, she would not have been at all amazed.

A moment later, her alarm clock went off. Pip tapped the snooze button and, standing in her slippers, turned towards the chair where her mother had laid out her new school uniform the night before a yellow-and-blue striped tie, a white shirt, a gray sweater and a gray pleated skirt.

The second she took her first step towards the chair, however, Pip froze and then spun around. In the half-light across the other side of her bedroom stood the vague, shadowy silhouette of a person, half hidden by the angle of her wardrobe. She sharply sucked in her breath. The hair on her neck and arms prickled. She felt her hands go immediately clammy and the blood drain from her cheeks. Almost as a reflex, she looked around for a weapon, but all she could see was her badminton racket.

Fear not. It is I, said the outline, softly.

Sebastian! Pip retorted, angrily.

Sebastian stepped into the middle of the room. He was wearing a dark, nondescript cloak draped over his shoulders.

You scared the living daylights out of me, Pip complained.

I apologize most humbly, Sebastian replied with a short bow. It was not my intention to startle.

Well, you did! Pip snapped back.

Aware that her midriff was showing, she smoothed down her pajama top to below her waist and rubbed her arms to remove the goose pimples.

Pip and her twin brother, Tim, had met Sebastian during the summer holidays. Knowing him had led them into a remarkable and perilous adventure. They had soon discovered that Sebastian was no ordinary boy. For one thing, he was more or less six hundred years old but had been in a kind of hibernation for most of the time. Moreover, he possessed alchemical powers learned from his father, an alchemist of repute.

Rawne Barton had been built by Sebastians father on land granted by the King. It was rightfully his home. Still, Pip considered, this did not give him the right to sneak about her bedroom whenever he chose.

In your time, was it common courtesy to enter a ladys bedroom in the middle of the night? Pip demanded; then she grinned and added, What are you doing here anyway, skulking about like this?

It is morn, Sebastian pointed out, not night but, yes, decorum would not have had me linger in your chamber. However, he added matter-of-factly, I see it my place to guard you through the dark hours. From time to time, I look upon you to ensure you are safe.

You mean you stand here while Im sleeping? Pip replied, somewhat taken aback by the thought.

Not just you. I watch over Tim, also.

Does he know? Pip asked.

He knows not, Sebastian answered, for I do not remain in a solitary position. A sentry who does not patrol the entire castle is not fulfilling his duty.

Pip picked up her hairbrush and started to tug at her sleep-tousled hair.

Well, its day now so I dont need guarding. And Ive got to get up and dressed. So, if you dont mind

From across the fields came another curt, grunting roar. Pip glanced at the window.