LITMIR.BIZ

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are in the story?’

       No. The puppet hearts are a dark magic, conceived by Gwydion. One heart for the master, and one for the servant. While the puppet hearts exist, Gwydion and his King of Hearts cannot be harmed.

      ‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ Leo said. ‘Sounds like the first thing to do is find these hearts.’

      Merry nodded.

      ‘Manuscript, where are the puppet hearts?’

       The hearts are hidden, under the lake.

      That didn’t sound good. She’d used to swim a lot; for fun and competitively. But her relationship with water, apart from showers and baths, had gone sour since dragging Alex out of the river.

      ‘OK. So how do we get at the hearts?’

       You must go to the lake.

      ‘Yeah, I think we get the lake part,’ Leo muttered.

      Merry was about to ask another question, but more words appeared of their own accord:

       This night, the servant will walk abroad after the Moon has risen.

       Go to the lake.

      * * *

      When Mum came home from the gym, Merry retreated to her bedroom. There, she tried asking the manuscript for details of what she was going to have to do at the lake, how she was supposed to retrieve the puppet hearts, whether she was meant to try to kill the King of Hearts as soon as she saw him. But it just kept repeating itself: Go to the lake.

      Leo knocked on the door and came in. ‘You OK?’

      She shrugged.

      ‘Well,’ he sat on her bed and picked up the ancient, misshapen teddy bear that still lived on her pillow, ‘at least we have a plan now. Hopefully, once we get to the lake, the manuscript will give us more instructions. We’ll be able to finish this thing tonight and everything will go back to normal.’

      ‘Yeah. Maybe.’ Merry paused. ‘What do you mean, we?’

      ‘There’s no way you’re doing this alone. I’m coming with you.’

      ‘But Gran said only one witch could enter Gwydion’s evil lair, or whatever he’s calling it. You heard her.’

      ‘Screw what Gran said. You’re going to be in charge, but every hero needs an assistant, a – a – ’

      ‘Sidekick?’

      Leo scowled.

      ‘I was thinking more like a second-in-command, a wingman, actually. Besides, we don’t know yet whether this is going to involve any actual lair-entering. And if it does I’m not a witch, am I? I won’t even register on Gwydion’s magic meter.’

      Merry hesitated. It was so tempting, but –

      ‘No, Leo, it’s too dangerous. I won’t let you.’

      Leo stretched his legs out and clasped his hands behind his head.

      ‘But you don’t understand, little sister. Either you agree that we’re doing this together, or I tell Mum everything that’s happened so far. Then Mum will probably go nuts, you’ll be grounded, and Gwydion will end up killing us all anyway.’ He smiled. ‘Your choice, of course. I’ll just pop downstairs and tell her now, shall I?’

      ‘Are you completely insane?’ Merry bit her lip. He was bluffing. Probably. ‘When this is all over, you’re dead.’ She made an exaggerated throat-cutting gesture with her forefinger. ‘So dead.’

      ‘If we’re both still alive when this is over, I’m willing to bet you’ll forgive me.’ He winked and grinned at her.

      Merry couldn’t help laughing.

      ‘OK. You make a good point, my lovely assistant.’ She tilted her head and gazed at him appraisingly. ‘I wonder how you’d look in a sparkly leotard? Maybe with, like, an artistically-positioned feather boa …’

      ‘That’s something neither of us will ever know.’ Leo got up to leave. ‘You should call Gran. I’ll try to figure out how to get out of the house without making Mum suspicious.’

      The conversation with Gran was surreal. Gran was happy that the manuscript was responding, and reassured Merry again that all she had to do – all – was follow the instructions; everything was bound to turn out fine. Then she said she would alert the rest of the coven so they could make sure the area around the lake was clear of ‘civilians’, by which she meant non-witches. Initially, Merry assumed this communication would be done by magic, possibly involving owls or bats, but no: Gran was going to text everyone and put a message up on the coven’s Facebook page.

      Dinner was stressful. Mum was irritable; she picked at her food and looked like she hadn’t slept properly in days. According to Leo’s cover story, he had a pool competition at a pub in town and Merry needed to go to Ruby’s house to work on an art project. Leo would take her and pick her up on the way back; how late they got home would depend on how far he made it through the competition. Pretty good, Merry thought. Still, Mum immediately said no, at the same time as pointing out that it was a school night and that Leo had work in the morning. It took a while to persuade her that Ruby’s house was safe, and that the project wasn’t something Merry and Ruby could work on over Skype. Eventually, Mum gave in. But she was obviously suspicious.

      Merry forced down the last spoonful of her spaghetti carbonara and went upstairs to get ready. As she shrugged herself into her coat – it was raining again – she had to resist pinching her arm. She knew the events of the last couple of weeks had really happened, but right now she felt like she was moving in a dream. Or a nightmare. She tried to quickly memorise her room: the pink Union Jack duvet cover, the Sherlock poster on the wall, the dressing table, strung with lights and overflowing with make-up and hair accessories. Maybe she should have written a note for Mum, explaining, just in case she didn’t get to come home –

      Leo knocked on her door.

      ‘Where’s the box?’

      ‘Under the bed.’ The key and the box were now both at least twice as big as they had been, and Merry had taken to wearing the key on a chain round her neck. She handed the chain to her brother; Leo retrieved the box and unlocked it.

      ‘You want to take all of this?’

      ‘May as well. Just in case.’

      ‘OK. So … let’s put the instruction book in this pocket.’ Leo lifted Merry’s arm and shoved the parchment into a large side pocket. ‘And the sword hilt, which would probably be much more useful if it had an actual blade attached to it, can go in this pocket.’ He lifted Merry’s other arm. ‘And finally the hair extension can go …’ He paused, then tied the braid of hair around Merry’s left wrist. ‘There. All set. You can put your arms down now.’

      ‘Great. Have you got a torch?’

      ‘Yep. Torches, a flask of coffee, and some chocolate bars.’

      Merry hesitated. ‘OK. But I think you should bring the big carving knife from the kitchen too.’

      Leo raised his eyebrows.

      Merry shrugged. ‘Like I said – just in case.’ She glanced around her room one last time. ‘Let’s go.’

      It didn’t take long to get to the Black Lake. There was a tiny gravelled parking area with a faded information board, but compared to the other open spaces nearby, the woods here were dense and sombre; the area never seemed to attract many visitors. Merry was surprised to see a silver saloon parked by the path into the trees.

      ‘Great start,’ Leo muttered, switching on his torch. ‘Let’s hope whoever it is goes home soon.’

      Hoods up against the rain, they were walking past the car when a figure got out and stepped into

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