LITMIR.BIZ

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or bleeding to death; the atmosphere in town eased a little. But the manuscript didn’t give Merry any idea what was to come next, or for how many nights she was going to have to keep sneaking out of the house in the dark. Gran, and Ruby (although she didn’t know it), were both helping keep Merry’s activities secret from Mum, but it wasn’t easy. Worse, her magic still wasn’t cooperating. There hadn’t been any more dramatic outbursts, but the few basic spells that Gran had asked her to try – healing cuts and grazes, making a sleeping potion, creating a globe of witch fire – none of them had worked at all.

      Jack was still refusing to talk to them most of the time. He did become a little more communicative on the third night, though, when Leo offered him some cold roast chicken that had been left over from dinner. Jack ate the chicken rapidly, watching them the whole time.

      ‘I know you don’t trust us,’ Merry tried again, ‘and I know you don’t remember much. I know you don’t believe anyone can defeat Gwydion. But surely there must be some questions you want to ask, even if you won’t answer ours?’

      Jack ate the last piece of chicken and licked his fingers. ‘Very well. Why is it that I seem to recognise you?’

      Merry had been thinking about this one. ‘I reckon that you’re confusing me with Meredith. She was a witch, and I’m … related to her. She tried to stop Gwydion. She put you to sleep.’

      ‘And is this man your betrothed?’ Jack gestured towards Leo.

      ‘Leo? Ew – no. I told you last time: he’s my brother. And before you ask again, he’s not a wizard. But I’m a witch. Well … sort of a witch, anyway. My turn to ask you a question now. Do you recognise this place?’

      Jack shook his head. ‘I remember someone putting something on my eyelids – this Meredith you speak of, perhaps – and I remember falling asleep. We were in Gwydion’s underground hall, one of the rooms he built beneath his tower.’ He closed his eyes, frowning. ‘The tower was hidden by a dark, thorny hedge, that was—’ he opened his eyes, again shaking his head. ‘Somewhere in the kingdom. I’ve forgotten. The hall is still there, under the lake, but where the lake came from, or where the kingdom has gone …’ He gestured at the surrounding countryside. ‘There should be forests of trees, high hills. But instead, almost everything I see is wrong: the garments you wear, the buildings, the sounds.’

      ‘Well …’ Merry trailed off, unsure how to begin to explain the twenty-first century. ‘How come you know how to speak modern English? I mean, how come you can understand us?’

      Jack sighed.

      ‘I do not know, any more than I know the wizard’s purposes, or how you are able to hold me here against his will, and the will of the curse that is upon me. Can you explain it to me?’

      ‘No. I don’t understand how the magic works either.’

      ‘Then, even if you are what you claim to be, how will you help me?’

      Merry didn’t reply.

       Help you? I think I’m supposed to kill you. And I don’t even know how to do that.

      Jack turned his back, and spoke no more to them that night.

      * * *

      ‘Meredith Cooper! Is there any hope that you might actually pay attention, given it’s your future we’re discussing?’

      Merry flinched and dropped her pencil. It was late Thursday afternoon, just over a week since she and Leo had first gone down to the lake and watched Jack leap out of the surging waters. The stress – and the lack of sleep – were getting to her.

      ‘Um …’

       What was she talking about? University choices? Or … degree subjects?

      She glanced down at the paper in front of her. No help there: she’d been writing a list of possible ways under the lake (‘ask Gran re water spells’) and sketching pictures of Jack’s face.

      ‘Well, really.’ Miss Riley – art teacher, careers adviser and all-round supervillain – rolled her eyes for good measure. ‘Your careers assessment form, Meredith. It was meant to be completed three weeks ago.’ She smiled maliciously at the rest of the class. ‘Ever since you rescued that boy from the river, you seem to have decided that deadlines don’t apply to you. I can assure you that is not the case. Surely you have some aims?’

      Merry bit back a retort. Her List of Possible Things To Do With My Life had been completely blank for months. And now it was worse: when she tried to imagine her future all she saw was a tunnel, completely dark, with no light at the end.

       I’m not sure it even is a tunnel. Maybe it’s just a cave. A dead end. Literally.

      Filling in a stupid spreadsheet wasn’t going to change anything. But she didn’t have the energy to argue. ‘Sorry, Miss Riley. I’ll bring it in tomorrow.’

      Finally, the bell rang and she could go home. Merry avoided Ruby. She knew her friend was going to ask her to go shopping, but Merry just wanted to wallow in the bath – and in self-pity – and hope the manuscript didn’t summon her to the lake. Unfortunately, she didn’t manage to avoid Gran: her bright red Mini was parked right outside the school. Merry got in.

      Gran didn’t waste any time. ‘How are the spells going?’

      ‘Not … great. I gave myself a paper cut and couldn’t fix it. The sleeping potion I concocted just made me feel sick.’

      ‘And the witch fire? It’s such a useful spell. Show me how far you’ve got.’

      ‘What, right now? In the car? While you’re driving?’ Merry clutched at her seatbelt as Gran sped round a corner, apparently oblivious to the rain and the general lack of visibility. ‘What if it goes wrong?’

      ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’

      Merry sighed.

       Creating a massive fireball that consumes the car and everything within a ten-metre radius? Would that be the worst?

      But – on the basis that nothing had happened the first ten times she’d tried this spell – she brought her palms close together, closed her eyes and concentrated, murmuring the incantation, listing all the different types of fire, but imagining the violet flames too …

      Her hands felt warm. Between her fingers hovered a small, very faint, globe of blue-purple light. Merry shrieked and the globe disappeared.

      Gran smiled as she pulled up in front of Merry’s house. ‘Don’t look so surprised, darling. You’re a witch. But I do think it would be a good idea if you come to a meeting of the coven. We can assess your skills properly, get a training schedule in place—’

      Merry was already out of the car, house keys in hand. ‘Um, sure, Gran. I’ll give you a call later. But I have to go check the manuscript now.’

      ‘But Merry—’

      ‘Thanks for the lift!’ Merry walked quickly into the house and shut the front door behind her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to put Gran off indefinitely, but she needed to figure out what had just happened.

       So, I obviously haven’t lost my powers.

      She tried the witch fire spell again. Nothing.

       Great. Not magical enough to be a proper witch, too magical to be an ordinary person. Dangerous. But not dangerous enough to stop a wizard’s curse.

      Still, she couldn’t deny it had felt good, even for that brief moment in the car: using her power, controlling it. The desire tugged at her …

       No. I can’t give in to it. Not again.

       But – if I’m powerless …

      She took a couple of deep breaths, and the craving faded. Was that really her choice: risk

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