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Merry collapsed back on to her bed and lay there, shaking. She couldn’t fight it any more. Any of it.
OK, Meredith. You win. I’ll work out how to use the manuscript, fight Jack, kill Gwydion, do whatever you want. Or at least I’ll try.
I promise.
Merry didn’t go to school that day. After Bronwen and Leo had left for work the silence in the house was horrible.
It’s like everything around me is holding its breath, waiting for me to …
She rang Gran.
Gran, thanks to Leo, already knew the manuscript had become active. Merry filled her in on the episode with Flo – there didn’t seem any point in trying to keep it secret. Gran was sympathetic, though she seemed a little hurt by Merry’s decision to ask Flo for help instead of her.
‘I’m not going to force you into anything, darling. And I understand that you’re scared. You’ve a right to be. But if you don’t do something, things are only going to get worse. Have you seen the news this morning?’
‘No. Has there been another attack?’
‘Yes, just the same as before. They’d been stabbed, though once again the hearts weren’t removed; I wish I knew why not. But unfortunately, it was an elderly couple this time. The husband didn’t survive …’
Merry swallowed.
‘OK.’ That was it: people were actually dying now. ‘So, do you want to come over and see the manuscript? So far it just says one word: e – a – l – a.’
‘Eala. Old English for hello. But I won’t be able to read it, darling. Only you, the last of the bloodline, can see what’s written on it.’
‘That’s not true. Leo can see the word too.’
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone line.
‘Are you absolutely sure? That doesn’t sound right.’ Another silence. ‘Well … let’s just focus on one thing at a time. I’ll email you some ideas I’ve had about how the manuscript might work, but it may just respond to you automatically.’
‘OK.’ Merry hesitated. She didn’t want the phone call to end: that would mean she had nothing left to do but get on with her ‘destiny’. Gran must have sensed her anxiety.
‘Sweetheart, the manuscript isn’t dangerous, not to you. Work out how to use it, and it will guide you. Now, I’ve been talking to the other coven members about your training—’
‘But what if I can’t do it Gran? What if, when the time comes to face Gwydion, I literally can’t cast a single spell—’
‘Merry, you’re a witch: it’s in your blood. I am certain the magic will be at your disposal, and you’ll know how to use it whether you’ve been trained or not. Think about it. Your ancestors spent hundreds of years preparing for this moment. You just have to take the first step.’
Merry remembered the image that had flashed into her head two days ago.
The first step, off the precipice and into darkness …
(#ulink_9b9948e6-7fab-5d24-b2c1-53a8309c2236)
Leo was home by early afternoon. The terrible weather – gale force winds now, as well as torrential rain and flooding – meant there wasn’t as much for him to do on the farm as usual. Now he and Merry were sitting at the kitchen table, the manuscript spread out in front of them. There were two words on the page now:
Eala, Merry.
Obviously, the damn thing was making a point.
‘So …’ Leo cleared his throat. ‘What’s the plan?’
‘Gran emailed me a few suggestions. Work through them, I suppose.’ Merry lifted her hands, held them above the manuscript; at least they weren’t trembling too noticeably.
Just get on with it. What’s the worst that can happen?
Er …
She slapped her palms down on the open pages, rushing the words out before she could change her mind: ‘Reveal. Speak. Show.’
Nothing happened.
‘Huh …’ Grabbing the carrier bag from the floor next to her, she tipped the contents out on to the manuscript.
‘What’s that? It looks like—’ Leo poked at the bits and pieces with one finger, ‘—bits of plant, and jewellery.’
Merry held up a spray of dark green needles.
‘Yew – I cut it off the hedge, earlier. It’s for divination and communication; Gran’s idea. This one is sage, for wisdom. That,’ she said, pointing at an earring she’d pinched from Mum’s jewellery box, ‘is turquoise, for psychic abilities. And this,’ she picked up a silver chain with a small purple crystal hanging from it, ‘is amethyst. For intelligence.’
‘I’ve never seen you wear it.’
‘It was a sixteenth birthday present from our so-called father. Why would I want to wear it?’ The necklace, its chain so tarnished it left black marks on her fingers, was the first gift their father had sent her since he left them. Merry remembered the letter that he’d sent with it. A pathetic letter, full of excuses and evasions. She dropped the necklace on to the parchment. ‘I don’t even know why I kept it.’
She arranged the objects in a rough circle around the pages of the manuscript and tried again.
‘Reveal. Speak. Show.’
The yew and the sage burst into flames.
‘Damn—’ Leo put out the fire by throwing his tea over the plants. The manuscript was unharmed, but it was also still blank apart from the greeting. ‘Maybe you need to say the same words, but in Old English? Or – could you just try saying hello back?’
‘Um, I suppose.’ Merry picked up the parchment, held it like a book in front of her, and took a deep breath. ‘Hello, er, manuscript. Do – you – speak – English?’ She caught sight of Leo’s raised eyebrow and flushed. ‘I mean, modern English?’
For a moment there was no response. Then more letters bloomed on the page.
Yes.
Merry glanced at Leo. His eyes were wide.
‘Put it down. See if you have to be touching it. Ask it – ask it something it must know.’
She replaced the parchment on the table.
‘OK. Where is Gwydion?’
The parchment didn’t reply, so Merry picked it up again and repeated the question.
‘Where is Gwydion?’
The wizard Gwydion sleeps still, under the Black Lake.
‘Right. Great. So, what’s next?’ Merry asked.
No response. Again. Merry threw the manuscript back on to the table and leant back in her chair.
‘Any more suggestions?’
Leo pulled the parchment towards him, traced his fingertips over the letters.
‘Dunno. Maybe,’ he wrinkled his forehead, ‘maybe the answers it can give are already set, so you have to know the right question. Try something else.’ He pushed the parchment back to Merry.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, but picked the manuscript up again.
‘OK. Manuscript … how do we stop the King of Hearts stabbing people?’
The servant acts for his master. To end the danger, both must die.
Leo gave her a thumbs up.
‘Right. And what do we need to do, for them to end up dead?’
The puppet hearts must be destroyed.
That didn’t sound so difficult.
‘What are the puppet hearts? Oh – are they the same as the jars of hearts that 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.
