LITMIR.BIZ

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or of something worse. ‘What do you reckon?’

      ‘That you’re right. You should stay.’

      Merry shifted so she could see Leo’s face. He was obviously anxious: his jaw was tense and he was drumming his fingers on the edge of the bench.

      ‘Really? Why?’

      ‘Because – because of what you said, of course. Besides, remember what Gran told us, about the things in the box?’ Merry did: they were the culmination of over a thousand years of preparation by generations of witches, all studying ways and means of destroying Gwydion if – when – the wizard reawakened. Or something along those lines. ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t beat Gwydion.’

      Merry almost laughed.

      ‘Apart from the fact that I’ve never been officially taught how to do any magic, I think Gran is seriously over-estimating my abilities, and I doubt they have The Complete Guide to Killing Evil Wizards in the school library …’ She tried to breathe slowly. Getting hysterical again wasn’t going to help. Gran seemed to think it didn’t matter that Merry was untrained: her natural ability, plus the trinket box, would be enough. ‘Maybe you should leave, Leo. Get away from Tillingham before anything kicks off. At least one of us would be safe.’

      ‘Now you’re being an idiot. We’re in this together, OK? Even though most of the time you’re a complete pain in the arse, you’re still my sister.’

      Another train clattered along the tracks behind them. Merry nudged Leo’s arm.

      ‘Hey – I’m sorry about the whole killer bush thing.’

      ‘Yeah. About that—’

      ‘I’ve never done anything like it before, honest. I was just angry. I wasn’t thinking about – about hurting you, or anything like that. Even if I knew how I’d done it, I don’t think I could repeat it.’ She sighed. ‘My magic’s all over the place at the moment. I thought I was losing my powers, but maybe I’ve just lost control. I’ve literally no idea.’

      ‘Don’t worry – I’m sure Gran will sort it out. Too bad about the killer bush, though. It could have been a useful weapon against Gwydion.’ Leo stood up. ‘Well, maybe that box of magical junk will save the day. You want to go home and try to figure out how to use it?’

      ‘No. I think Gran said that I have to wait for the parchment thing to “speak to me”.’ She’d have to check that later – there had been way too much information to process in one afternoon. ‘But going home?’ Merry rubbed the tight muscles in the back of her neck. ‘Yeah, that sounds like a plan.’

      Mum arrived back from France the next morning. Dark-haired and petite, she normally came across as completely self-controlled and self-confident. But today, Merry thought, her mother seemed awkward and twitchy, huddled inside her well-fitting clothes. And she definitely wasn’t happy.

      ‘But how could you not have called me, Leo? I left you in charge. If I’d known about the attacks I would have come home early.’

      ‘Mum,’ Leo shook his head, disbelief clear on his face, ‘you’ve never come home early from a business trip, not even when Merry broke her leg.’ That particular example of maternal indifference had bothered Leo, for some reason, though Merry hadn’t been surprised. Mum had never exactly been super-affectionate, and for the last four years she’d worked abroad a lot. ‘Anyway, the attacks have been all over the news. How could you have missed it?’

      ‘I’ve been working eighteen-hour days, that’s how: where do you think the money for your university fees is going to come from? The first I heard of the attacks was yesterday, when I called to book a taxi and gave them our address. And if you’re trying to make a point about the amount of time I spend away from home, then you’re being very childish.’ Mum swung away and started unpacking the dishwasher.

      Leo turned red.

      ‘I’m being childish? I don’t know why you’re acting like this is all a big—’

      ‘Leo!’ Merry shot her brother a warning glance. ‘Mum’s tired. Why don’t you give it a rest?’ She knew what he had been going to say: Why are you acting like this is a big surprise? But she wanted to see what her mother would admit to on her own. Whether she’d tell the truth.

      ‘What, Leo? A big what?’ Mum asked.

      Leo glanced uncertainly at Merry.

      ‘A big … deal.’ Mum was still putting dishes back into the cupboards; Merry risked a tiny, encouraging nod. ‘I mean,’ Leo continued, ‘the people who were attacked, they probably knew whoever attacked them. We’re not likely to be in any danger. It’s going to be some kind of … gang warfare. Don’t you think?’

      Merry rolled her eyes. Gang warfare? In Tillingham? Sometimes, Leo didn’t know when to stop.

      But Mum didn’t seem to notice the incongruity.

      ‘Yes. Yes, I expect you’re right. It’s bound to be something like that.’

      Merry couldn’t quite believe it.

       Who are you trying to convince, Mum? Us, or yourself?

      Her mother sighed.

      ‘I’m sorry I overreacted. I just – I have to keep you safe, that’s all. I want you both at home as much as possible until this is all sorted out. Especially you, Merry. And – the woods are completely off-limits from now on.’ She paused. ‘They’re lonely enough at the best of times. Understood?’

      ‘Sure, Mum.’ Leo nodded.

      Merry said nothing.

      Merry spent the next few days avoiding her mother and trying to not obsessively check the parchment from the trinket box. The Manuscript, Gran had called it; she claimed it would provide guidance, but obviously no one had ever actually seen it working. So far there was no writing visible. Gran told her to be patient, that the breakdown of the sleeping spell and the activation of the oath was a process. But the waiting, the uncertainty, was like the barrel of a gun in her back. Even a couple of drop-in sessions at the local fencing club – suddenly, improved sword skills felt like a potential necessity – didn’t help much. It was nearly two years since she’d last fought, and while she was there the mental discipline required cleared her mind. But the effect soon wore off, and her thoughts swung back into the same groove: endless worrying about what was going to happen next.

      By Sunday of the next weekend the parchment was still blank. Merry spent the day in a flutter of suppressed excitement. She tried to ignore the whisper in the back of her mind – the hope – that somehow, Gran had got everything wrong. That the continuing attacks in Tillingham – another couple had been found, almost dead, just two days earlier – were really nothing to do with their family history. That the boy in her room had just been a coincidence, or a shared hallucination from the experimental vegetable stir-fry she’d made for dinner that evening. She tried to crush her growing optimism, but it was impossible.

      On Sunday night she slept really well for the first time in ages: no visions or dreams, no strange noises, no fit but clearly dangerous boys barging into her bedroom. On Monday morning she hummed as she got ready for school, and began to at least contemplate making plans for the following weekend. There was a party on the Friday, then there was a new sci-fi film coming out she wanted to see. Ruby wouldn’t be interested, but Jamie, a guy from her history class who had a ridiculously cute smile, might go with her – he’d asked her on a date once, before. She grabbed her school bag. Below it was one edge of the trinket box, sticking out from under her bed.

       Maybe I should take another look, just to prove to myself that nothing has changed.

      She picked up the box, lifted the lid and took a peek at the parchment.

      The box slipped out of her hands and thudded on to the floor.

      Merry went to school. She didn’t know what else to

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