LITMIR.BIZ

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knew were in the coven – thanks to the rune-casting episode outside the house the other week. Mrs Knox was another definite no. But the Zara girl … Merry turned up the temperature, letting the hot water ricochet off her tight shoulder muscles. Yes: Zara girl was the same age as her, more or less. She would understand. And it wasn’t like Merry was going to use her as human shield or anything – she just wanted a bit of … help.

      Merry had a plan – an achievable, concrete plan. For the first time in twenty-four hours, she smiled.

      Unfortunately, it turned out not to be that much of a plan.

      The Zara girl – whose name, when Merry tracked her down in the Year 13 common room, turned out to be Flo – had been happy to help. Almost enthusiastic. She said her mum wouldn’t talk about Meredith’s oath, or the curse: just dropped lots of dark hints that had driven her wild with curiosity. So Flo had led the way to a music practice room, chatting all the time, and waited while Merry got the manuscript out of her bag. But then …

      Then Merry had pointed to the word, Eala. But Flo hadn’t been able to see it. As far as she could tell, the manuscript was just a completely blank piece of paper. And she’d looked at Merry with such a mixture of doubt and pity in her eyes …

      Now Merry was back in her bedroom. She’d spent the evening there, having told Mum and Leo – truthfully – that she had a headache. The failure of her plan, the realisation that Gran had been absolutely literal when she said that only a descendent could face Gwydion – made her just want to curl up under her duvet and hide. If she was asleep – even if she was dreaming – at least she didn’t consciously have to think about what lay ahead of her.

      Early the next morning, she was woken by the chimes of the grandfather clock on the landing striking seven. That meant it was actually only six-fifteen; the grandfather clock always ran fast, no matter what anybody did to it. She turned over and tried to get back to sleep.

      But she couldn’t settle. As well as the annoyingly loud tick of the clock, there was a strange, pungent smell, almost like …

      … burning. Something was on fire. Merry threw the bedclothes back and was halfway out of bed when she saw it.

      A circle of flat stones – a hearth? – with a pile of logs burning brightly in the centre. In the middle of her bedroom carpet. As she watched, open-mouthed, the grandfather clock began to chime again, marking the half-hour. But the sound faded, as the room around her dissolved into a different place entirely. Almost entirely: Merry was still sitting on her bed, her hand still clutching the edge of the duvet. But the bed itself was now in the corner of – a cottage, she supposed it was. She could see a loom and a rough wooden cupboard against the far wall, just illuminated by the flames from the hearth. And around the hearth were three figures: the same girl Merry had seen at the station and in the mirror – Meredith? – and two others. One, with black hair and a thin, tear-stained face, was perched next to possibly-Meredith on the edge of a wooden bench. The other, tall and blonde, was standing with her hands on her hips, frowning at the weeping girl. None of them seemed to have noticed the sudden appearance of a stranger and a piece of furniture in their midst.

      ‘… and it’s as well for you we found you before the wolves did,’ the blonde girl was saying. ‘Wandering off like that, without a word to either of us—’

      ‘Carys, enough.’ Possibly-Meredith put her arm around the black-haired girl. ‘Nia does not mean to do these things; she does not wish to be … troublesome. You know how it is with those who have the Sight.’

      ‘I’m sorry, Meredith, I really am,’ Nia murmured.

      Merry thought: I was right then. That is Meredith. And those must be her sisters.

      ‘Well …’ Carys sighed and sat down in an empty chair opposite the other two. ‘We need the truth now, Nia. We all of us know something is wrong, out in the wide world, though we haven’t yet spoken of it. What did you see that drove you up into the woods?’

      Nia stared into the flames and the woodsmoke, while the logs crackled and spat. Merry could feel the heat on her face.

      ‘Two nights ago,’ Nia said, ‘I had a dream. There was a woman, a noble woman, I think, rocking a baby in her arms. I knew her, from somewhere. She looked happy, but there was a shadow over the child, and on his forehead the word king, written in blood.’

      ‘What did the woman look like?’ Carys asked.

      ‘The woman had brown hair, almost the colour of hazelnuts, and brown eyes, flecked with gold. And then the woman and the baby disappeared, and I saw a man. He was young and handsome, but he was marked with the same word, and he was holding—’ Nia shut her eyes tight, ‘—no – no, I can’t say—’

      ‘Nia, dear one,’ Meredith took Nia’s hands in hers. ‘We must know what you saw.’

      Nia nodded slowly.

      ‘The man’s hand was red with blood, so much blood that it ran down his arm and soaked the sleeve of his tunic. He opened his fingers, to show me what he held. It was a heart, Meredith. A human heart. And it was still beating.’

      Merry blinked as the scene bled and shifted around her.

      She was still sitting on her bed, jammed incongruously into the corner of the cottage. The fire still burnt brightly in the hearth. But now Nia was sitting in the chair, strumming idly on a small wooden lyre. Meredith was crouching over a cooking pot that was hanging from an iron tripod above the fire. The cottage door opened and Carys walked in.

      Nia’s fingers stumbled over the strings. Meredith dropped the spoon she was holding and stood up. ‘What have you done to yourself?’

      Carys’s hair was in tangles, there were cuts on her hands and a long, bloody welt down the side of her face and neck. ‘You must clean those scratches right away. Nia, where is the chickweed ointment? Did we not—’

      Nia was still staring at Carys.

      ‘It is begun, then?’

      Carys nodded.

      ‘What’s begun?’ Meredith was glancing from Nia to Carys. ‘Carys? What’s begun?’

      ‘Our preparations, Meredith. For dealing with Gwydion. I have been able to find out where he conceals himself.’

      ‘No …’ Meredith grasped Carys by the shoulders. ‘What have you done? What did you promise, to gain such knowledge?’

      Carys held up a hand, silencing her.

      ‘Do not ask me, Meredith. I was willing to pay the price that was demanded. We promised we would help, if we could.’

      ‘She’s right, Meredith.’ Nia came and stood next to Carys. ‘We promised. And who will stop Gwydion, if we do nothing?’

      The sisters all turned towards Merry, staring at her as if they were noticing her presence for the first time. But they didn’t seem to be surprised.

      ‘Who will stop Gwydion, if you do nothing, Merry?’ Meredith asked.

      ‘Yes,’ Carys was nodding and pointing at her. ‘You must act, Merry.’

      Nia stepped forwards.

      ‘Please, Merry. You are running out of time …’

      Merry opened her mouth to reply, to explain – I was going to try, but I’m scared, I’m so scared – but before she could speak a soft chiming started up behind her. She turned away from the three girls, trying to work out where in the cottage the noise was coming from …

      … and as she turned, she was back in her bedroom. The cottage, the round hearth with its bright fire – everything had disappeared. The grandfather clock finished chiming the half-hour and fell silent.

      No time had passed at all.

      Merry collapsed back on to her bed and lay there, shaking. She couldn’t fight it any more. Any of it.

      

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