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‘And how has your magic behaved?’
‘Nothing happened for a while. I thought—’
Hoped? Or feared?
‘—I thought maybe I was losing my powers. Like you said, I’ve been struggling with casting spells. But I’ve also had these kind of … random episodes. Magic exploding out of me.’ She looked down at her finger nails. ‘I’ve broken a couple of things.’
‘Like what, dear?’
‘I broke a mirror at school, a big one. It shattered.’
‘Perfectly normal.’ Gran smiled. ‘What else?’
‘Well, this thorny bush thing shot out of the ground and basically murdered another plant. Dragged it back under the soil.’
And nearly killed my brother. But I don’t think I’m going to mention that.
‘Oh. Well, that is a bit more unusual. But, as we start training you, those sort of magical outbursts—’
‘And I’m seeing things.’
There was some subdued muttering from the coven. Gran shushed them.
‘What did you say, Merry?’
‘Er …’ Merry paused.
Damn. They really didn’t need to know that. Flo probably thinks I’m nuts. Maybe I could pretend I meant dreaming …
But the way Gran was looking at her, she couldn’t lie.
‘I’ve been seeing Meredith. Our ancestor. At least, I’m pretty certain it’s her. Last time, she told me I had to get on with it. More or less.’
‘Well.’ Gran drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair and stared at Merry. Lots of the witches were staring. Merry started trying to pick a bit of old varnish off her thumbnail. ‘Well. I suppose we are all dealing with something completely new here. Just … keep us informed, Merry. If anything else abnormal happens.’
Yeah, right, Merry thought. My entire life is abnormal at the moment. How long have you got?
But she just nodded.
Gran looked round at the other witches.
‘Any more questions, ladies?’
Most shook their heads, but one woman raised her hand.
‘Yes, Roshni?
‘I would like to ask, Merry, what you think the aim of your training is? What do you think you should become?’ The woman was smiling, but her appearance – dark hair pulled up into a bun, a dark skirt-suit – made Merry think of her headmistress from junior school. She could feel her palms getting damp.
‘Um …’
What are my aims?
Not to die.
Not to hurt anyone. I mean, apart from the bad guys, I guess.
Not to mess up.
The silence around her was solidifying.
‘Um … I suppose … to be a good witch?’
Roshni glanced at Gran, who pursed her lips.
‘You sound uncertain, Merry.’ Roshni’s smile had faded. ‘Also, you’re wrong.’
‘But, I—’
‘Your aim, at this stage, in this state of emergency, is to be a powerful witch. There is no room for doubt.’
Gran was nodding.
‘Roshni is right. Confidence is key. Shall we begin?’
Two hours later, Merry was on the verge of tears.
Gran sighed.
‘Let’s just try one more time. This is a basic shielding spell, Merry. I thought you’d done something like this before.’
‘I have, and it used to work.’ Merry coughed and took a sip of water, wincing as she swallowed. ‘I didn’t know I was supposed to sing it.’
‘Music enhances the power of the words. It should make it easier. Try again.’
Merry cleared her throat and began to sing the spell once more. Her voice sounded croaky.
‘Hard as bronze, hard as iron, strong as a shield-wall round the stone tower …’
Flo, who was her opponent in this exercise – and who looked as miserable as Merry felt – raised her hands and began to sing another spell: a stinging hex. Flo was so good at the spell that she actually only had to sing one line to set it going.
Merry – envious – tried to sing louder. Her shielding spell seemed to be holding: the hex (like a nettle sting crossed with an electric shock) wasn’t getting through.
Is it working? Please, let it work this time –
Her left cheek burned. She gasped – clapped her hand to her face – stopped singing – and her arms and neck began to throb with pain too.
‘Stop!’ Gran was next to her, singing softly, and the pain faded.
‘I’m so sorry!’ Flo was hovering nearby. ‘I didn’t mean to come on that strong, but you seemed to be doing better—’
‘Merry dear, it’s not about singing louder, it’s about – about getting inside the real meaning of the spell, focusing on what you want to achieve—’ Gran sighed. ‘I think we should stop for today. But I had hoped you would be more … advanced. You’re going to need regular lessons from now on.’
‘I thought you said the stuff in the trinket box would be enough? That it didn’t matter about me being untrained?’ Merry could hear the pitch of her voice rising as the panic and shame bubbled up inside her.
Gran didn’t answer immediately.
‘I think it will be enough,’ she said eventually. ‘I have confidence in all the witches – your ancestors – who have planned for this moment, even if you don’t. But, it’s only sensible to be as fully prepared as possible, especially since you haven’t yet been able to find a way under the lake. Have a rest now. I’m going to talk to the others, see if we can organise some kind of schedule.’
Carefully avoiding eye contact with any of the other witches, Merry went to sit in one of the armchairs in front of the huge, empty fireplace. There was a table next to it, and on that were glasses and a few jugs of iced water – Mrs Knox’s idea of refreshments.
What did you expect? This isn’t the Women’s Institute.
Shutting her eyes, Merry leant back in the chair.
A cup of tea, that’s what I could do with right now. Or a really strong coffee.
Ruby’s dad had one of those posh Italian coffee-making things, the type you put on the stove to boil. The last time she’d been there at the weekend he’d made coffee for her in it; she remembered the sound of the bubbling water, and the scent of coffee filling the kitchen …
‘Merry, what on earth are you doing?’ Merry opened her eyes. Mrs Knox was standing over her, pointing at the jugs of water. The iced water was … boiling. Steam was rising up to the ceiling.
‘But – I didn’t do anything!’ Merry sat up straighter. ‘I mean, I was thinking about coffee, and boiling water, but I don’t know any spells for that. How could it be me?’
Silence. Followed by a buzz of conversation around the room. Gran appeared.
‘Merry, I need you to be totally honest with me. Did you try another spell? Sing or say anything in particular?’
‘No, Gran, I was just thinking about having a hot drink. Really.’
Gran held her gaze for a moment.
‘OK.’ She raised her voice. ‘Ladies, if you please …’ Gran swept off to the far end of the room again, followed by the other witches. Merry couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but she caught the word ‘dangerous’ a couple of times. And then Flo looked over her shoulder, back at where Merry was sitting, and Merry recognised the expression on her face.
She’s frightened.
She’s frightened of me.
The fear Merry had felt when she realised what she’d done to Alex – that terrifying sense of her own potential for evil – rose up inside her again as strong as ever. What if she was really dangerous? What if they decided she was just as bad as Gwydion? Would they turn on her?
‘Merry,’ Gran was beckoning to her, ‘come here.’
Merry hesitated.
This is ridiculous. That’s your grandmother over there. She’s not about to transform you into a frog.
She walked over to the coven, head held high.
‘Well?’
‘We’ve decided,’ Gran stared around the ring of women, as though daring anyone to challenge her, ‘that your training may need a – a different approach. Usually the whole coven would be involved in training a witch, but for the time being you’ll work mostly with me, and occasionally with Roshni and Sophia. Your abilities are clearly very unusual: virtually non-existent in some areas, highly developed in others. To be honest, it’s not something any of us have come across before.’
‘If anyone was to ask me,’ began Flo’s mum, ‘I’d say what she’s done is – well, it’s not natural. Not at all how any true witch would go about things.’ She backed away a little as Gran turned to glare at her.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Denise, do stop being ridiculous! Merry’s abilities are most likely to do with who she is. What she is.’ Gran paused, but Denise didn’t seem inclined to argue. ‘Well, we’re done for today, ladies.’ The witches separated. Some stayed and chatted, but Merry noticed Denise hustling Flo straight out of the room.
Merry pressed her fingers to her forehead, trying to push away the headache building behind her eyes. Gran hugged her.
‘You can go too, Merry; I’ll call you later. Unless there’s anything you want to ask me now?’
Merry shook her and turned away. She’d remembered what Leo said, the night they found the trinket box. That she would be the kind of witch who eats children.
So I’m not going to ask Gran who I am, or what I am. Somehow, I don’t think I’d like the answer.
It was the next day, and Merry was sitting in the garden shed. The shed was full of spiders, but that meant Mum wouldn’t expect her to be in there. Merry was pretty certain her mother had put some kind of eavesdropping spell on the main house.
She settled herself on an old bag of potting compost and thought about practising her witch fire spell, before deciding she was too tired and pulling out the manuscript instead.
‘Hello, manuscript.’
Eala, Merry.
‘So … can we get into Gwydion’s fortress through a tunnel system that runs under the lake?’
No.
Merry sighed and crossed ‘tunnel’ off the list in her notebook. Other suggestions the manuscript had rejected included a secret entrance, a magic portal and a rip in the space-time continuum (Leo’s idea). Gran had tried putting charms on Merry to remove her fear of the water, but so far none of them had stuck. Merry wasn’t surprised, given she couldn’t even force herself to get into the local swimming pool.
Maybe there’s something I can do to the water, instead of something being done to me?
She thought back to the incident at Mrs Knox’s house.
Maybe I can make the lake boil away? If I can figure out what the hell I did to the water in those jugs. Although, people might notice an entire lake disappearing …
The whole magic thing was so confusing. She was frightened of being a witch, but she needed to be a witch. She had to try to be good at spells, but she felt sure she shouldn’t want to be good at spells. Why could she work some magic easily and some not at all? And were there going to be any more killer plants or other dangerous outbursts?
Just a lot of questions. No answers.
Shaking her head, she made a note to consider the boiling lake idea further, then went back to the list she’d already made.
‘OK. Is there a spell we can use to destroy the puppet hearts from a distance?’
No.
Another line through another list; they’d already run through variations on the idea of getting Jack to bring the hearts out of the lake (without, of course, revealing to him – and potentially the King of Hearts – exactly what they were attempting). Nothing doing there either, apparently.
‘Is Jack going to leave the lake tonight?’
Yes. Follow him into the water.
