Grimalkin is the witch assassin of the Malkin clan. She is ruthless and unrelenting, delighting in torture and inflicting pain. The snip-snip of her scissors is a particular favorite, and she uses them to cut the flesh and bone of her victims.
Grimalkin might pull me back as I climbed over the fence. She could catch me crossing the pasture. Or the yard. Then I would have to wait while I unlocked the door. I imagined my trembling fingers trying to insert the key into the lock as she ran up the stairs behind me. But would I even reach the fence? She was getting nearer now. Much nearer. I could hear her feet pounding down the slope toward me. Better to turn and fight, said a voice inside my head. Better to face her now than be cut down from behind. But what chance did I have against a trained and experienced assassin? What hope against the strength and speed of a witch whose talent was murder?
In my right hand I gripped the Spook’s staff; in my left was my silver chain, coiled about my wrist, ready for throwing. I ran on, the blood moon flickering its baleful light through the leaf canopy to my left. I’d almost reached the edge of Hangman’s Wood, but the witch assassin was very close now. I could hear the pad-pad of her feet and the swish-swish of her breath.
As I ran beyond the final tree, the farm fence directly ahead, the witch sprinted toward me from the right, a dagger in each hand, the long blades reflecting the moon’s red light. I staggered to my left and cracked the chain to send it hurtling at her. But all my training proved useless. I was weary, terrified, and on the verge of despair. The chain fell harmlessly onto the grass. So, exhausted, I finally turned to face the witch.
It was over, and I knew it. All I had now was the Spook’s staff, but I barely had the strength to lift it. My heart was hammering, my breath rasping, and the world seemed to spin around me.
(For the full story, read The Last Apprentice: Attack of the Fiend)