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Leo frowned.
‘You cast a spell on him, didn’t you? He just sort of … bounced off.’
‘I tried to cast one. It didn’t work.’
‘Well, it must have worked eventually; looks like it just kicked in a bit late.’ Leo picked up the manuscript from where she had dropped it and shone his torch on the page of writing. ‘Nothing here about what we’re meant to do next. D’you reckon we should have a go at—’ He coughed and tried again. ‘Should we try killing him?’
‘We can’t. Remember what it said earlier?’
Leo flicked back a page.
While the puppet hearts exist, Gwydion and his King of Hearts are both immortal.
‘Well – just ask it anyway. It would be better to get it over and done with.’
Merry sighed, but she took the manuscript from Leo’s hands.
‘Manuscript, can we kill the King of Hearts now?’
The answer materialised in front of their eyes.
No. While the puppet hearts exist, neither the wizard nor the servant can die.
‘See?’
‘So what’s the plan? Just hang around until Jack wakes up and has another go at stabbing us?’
‘I don’t know, Leo. I have no idea what the plan is. OK?’
Leo muttered something under his breath, but Merry decided to ignore it. He was probably feeling exactly as she was: that if she had to just sit here, with nothing to do but contemplate this terrifying, insane situation, she might just lose it. They were sitting some distance from the lake now, but the sound of the dark water lapping at the shore was still clear. She got up and stamped some feeling back into her feet.
‘I’m going to check out the lake. I won’t be long.’
Leo nodded, so Merry jogged away from him towards the water. The night had become cloudy again and the lake was almost indistinguishable in the darkness; just a smudge of dark grey against the black of the sky. When she reached the water’s edge she shone her torch down into it, probed it with a dead branch lying nearby, but she couldn’t see or feel the bottom of the lake. There were no handy steps she could use to get underneath the lake and collect the puppet hearts, either. And there was no sign of any hiding place. It was completely impossible that Jack should have sprung out of the freezing water dressed in those heavy clothes and completely dry. But then, he was an Anglo-Saxon prince who had been asleep for the last millennium and a half. It was kind of ridiculous to expect him to obey the laws of physics.
Merry made her way back to Leo and sat down again. Her brother had obviously found the backpack: he was pouring coffee, and handed her a cup.
‘Thanks. Has he moved?’
‘Uh-uh.’ Leo shook his head. Merry picked up the manuscript.
‘Can you tell us what to do now?’
There was no response.
Well, this is great.
Leo stood up.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m going to chuck it in the lake.’
‘Chuck what in the lake?’
‘That.’ He directed the beam of his torch on to the hilt of the broken sword, still lying where Jack had dropped it. ‘If he wants it back, he can swim for it.’
‘No, that’s not a good—’ Merry began, but Leo ignored her. She shook her head and followed him.
The blade of the sword was of some dark metal, its broken edge corroded away, but the hilt was similar to the hilt they had found in the trinket box. It had the same type of gold filigree work around the pommel and guard. Leo leant down, brushed his fingers across the gilded surface –
‘Ow – damn it!’ He snatched his fingers back. The tips were blistered. ‘It’s red-hot. I don’t understand.’
Merry knelt down closer to the sword, frowning. She stretched out her hand –
‘Merry,’ Leo whispered, ‘look—’
Merry shone the torch in the direction he was pointing.
Jack was awake.
Ten minutes had passed. They knew that because Leo had looked at his watch. A mistake, it turned out: Jack brought his knife up again when he saw the watch light up on Leo’s wrist.
‘You lie: you are a wizard!’
It would almost have been funny. If they hadn’t been standing in the dark, frozen and exhausted. And if the knife Jack carried – he’d made no move to pick up the broken sword – hadn’t been considerably longer and more dangerous-looking than Leo’s kitchen knife. At least Jack, rather than the dark creature that had attacked them earlier, seemed to be back in charge of his body. For now anyway.
Merry groaned and rubbed her sore eyes.
‘Look, Jack, please try to understand. I know you think you know me, but the first time I met you was the other night, in my bedroom. My name’s Merry. And this is Leo – he’s not a wizard. He doesn’t know how to use magic, not even a little bit. The torch, and the lantern, and the watch – it’s all electricity …’
Jack kept his knife pointing firmly at Leo, but he turned towards Merry.
‘I would have the truth. I remember you, from before, I am sure of it. Why do you deny it?’
‘I just – I don’t know what to tell you …’
Jack lowered the knife.
‘I remember you, and I remember that I am bound somehow to the evil wizard Gwydion, through the curse that taints my blood. I remember my name, and your face – but that is all I remember. Do you understand?’ The pain in Jack’s voice caught in Merry’s guts like thorns. ‘I know nothing of my life, or who I am, or why I am in this place. Why will you not help me?’
Without thinking, Merry moved closer to Jack. Leo grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.
Jack hesitated, then pushed his knife back into his belt.
‘Have you brought this wizard here to kill me?’
‘Jack—’
‘Very well. I will not oppose him.’
He sat down with his back to them.
And that was it, for the next half-hour. Leo asking questions that Jack wouldn’t answer, Merry trying to get the manuscript to tell them what the hell they were supposed to do next.
‘How long have we got until you turn evil again?’ Leo demanded. ‘Can you at least tell us that?’
Jack ignored him.
‘Oh, for—’ He turned to Merry and jabbed a finger at the manuscript. ‘Are you sure that thing doesn’t say anything about killing him?’
‘Leo …’ Merry made a shushing motion. ‘There are things we need to know, Jack. It’s important. We have to stop the wizard. We have to get under the lake, to wherever it is you came from. And you know about this … curse, that takes you over …’
Jack turned his head slightly towards them. ‘I feel it, even now: it struggles to regain mastery. But what it desires, or what I have done while under its command …’ He shook his head. ‘I cannot remember. Though I fear – I fear I am damned.’
Merry winced. The idea of telling Jack that he’d been forced to cut people’s hearts out was deeply unappealing.
Jack shifted position so he was facing them again, and stared at Merry, his brows drawn together. For a few moments she met his gaze, hoping to somehow get through to him. But he was studying her so intensely that eventually she had to look away.
‘I am completely alone, am I not?’ Jack asked. He sounded exhausted. ‘There was someone … but whoever she was, she has left me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Merry replied. ‘She must have. It’s been such a long time.’
Jack’s eyes widened and he gasped, a spasm of pain crossing his face. ‘The monster returns—’ Jack dug his nails into the earth, as if he were trying to stop himself getting up. ‘You must … fly …’
Leo scrambled to his feet.
‘What do we do?’
Merry seized the manuscript in both hands. ‘Help us! The – the King of Hearts, he’s come back—’
Jack was back over by the broken sword; he seized the hilt – no sign of pain – swung the blade out in a wide arc and stalked back towards them. Leo jumped in front of Merry.
‘Well?’ he asked over his shoulder.
‘Hold on—’
‘Merry!’
‘OK, got it: “Awende on – on sinnihte, scea – sceadugenga.”’
As though a switch had been flipped, Jack’s face went from rage-filled to completely blank, all trace of personality wiped away. He shoved the sword back into the sheath hanging at his waist and started walking back towards the lake. Through the darkness Merry heard the ripple of water, gradually getting louder: the vortex, rising up out of the lake to receive the King of Hearts back again.
A fierce gust ripped the clouds away from the Moon. Merry squinted, raised her hand to shield her eyes from the wind – but when she looked towards the lake, Jack had disappeared. It was over.
For now.
Mrs Galantini had gone by the time Leo and Merry had walked back to the parking area. Gran was waiting there instead, but once she’d checked that they were both in one piece (and given Leo some ointment for his hand) she didn’t delay them, just told Merry to get some sleep and that she’d call her the next day. In the car, Leo drove too fast and talked too much; he knew he was in shock. Clearly, some part of his brain had decided that if he kept moving, then maybe, somehow, the stuff that had happened at the lake wouldn’t catch up with him. Maybe wouldn’t have even happened at all. Every so often he glanced over at Merry, waiting for her reaction: tears, or shaking, or uncontrollable hysteria. Something tangible. But she just sat there, staring out of the windscreen, her face almost as blank as Jack’s had been just before he turned away from them.
They got back home just after midnight, that was one mercy: just early enough for Mum to accept Leo’s story that he had won the pool competition, left the pub at 11.30 and picked Merry up from Ruby’s on the way back. Merry still seemed completely calm. Leo followed her upstairs and stopped her just before she went into her room.
‘Merry – are you sure you’re OK?’
‘Yes. I’m fine. ’Night Leo.’
‘G’night then. Give me a shout if—’
But she had already shut the door behind her.
Merry stretched under the duvet, wiggling her toes and gently flexing her sore ankle, trying to relax into the warmth and softness of the bed. Her wrist was itchy; she ran a finger under the braid of hair, loosening it a little. The manuscript and the sword hilt were locked back inside the trinket box, but the braid … Whatever Leo said, Merry knew it hadn’t been her own magic that sent the King of Hearts flying when he ran at her. That had failed her, again.
Still, she was alive, and so was Leo. Both of them had survived their first encounter with the King of Hearts. That should make her happy, right? Or something – surely, she should be feeling something, after what they’d just been through. But no amount of probing, rerunning the evening’s events over and over in her head, produced any response. She’d been anaesthetised. Or had left her capacity to feel somewhere back there in the darkness, at the edge of the Black Lake.
Alex told me once I had a lump of ice for a heart. Maybe now it’s true …
The next few days were the same. Leo kept watching her, as if she were a suspicious package that might suddenly start to tick. The manuscript summoned them three more times to the lake, but Merry gave Jack no opportunity to attack them. As soon as he emerged from the water, she read out the words that knocked him unconscious and returned him to himself. When the curse regained control, she said the words that sent him back to the water. Inbetween, she and Leo tried to get information out of Jack or searched for ways to get under the lake. Merry went back there one morning on her own, hoping daylight would reveal something they had missed, but so far no secret entrance had materialised. At least their presence at the lake meant that no one in Tillingham was being attacked, 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.
* * *
