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Merry opened her eyes.
Leo was kneeling over her, his face white and tense.
‘Merry? Are you OK?’
‘Yeah. I think so. Help me sit up.’
Leo put one arm underneath Merry’s back and slowly pushed her upright.
‘Here, lean against this.’ He pulled an old beanbag over and put it behind her. ‘What happened?’
‘I’m not sure. I – I saw things.’ She shuddered. ‘I saw him again.’
‘Him?’
‘The guy from my nightmares. But he wasn’t … killing people, this time. He was chained up somewhere – like, in some old, medieval castle.’
‘Jesus, Merry. What the hell’s going on?’
Merry breathed out slowly.
‘No idea. Where’s the box?’
‘You dropped it.’ Leo gestured towards where the box had fallen, lying on its side on the floor. At least it wasn’t moving any more.
‘Pass it over.’
‘Are you sure? I mean, after what just happened? Shouldn’t I be taking you to the hospital or something?’
‘I’m fine, Leo. Just give it to me.’
For once, Leo didn’t argue; he picked up the trinket box and handed it to her. There was no trace of the ‘energy’ she’d felt earlier.
The box was quite small, its diameter less than the length of her hand. There was an intricate, fluid design carved on to the lid, interlocking figures of eight curling along each of the seven edges, punctuated at every corner with a triangular knot that looked vaguely Celtic. In the centre of the lid was a circle with a crescent etched over the top of it: the Moon. Merry tried to prise the lid open with her nails, but the box was locked. Absentmindedly, she traced a finger over the design. She’d seen that pattern before.
‘Let’s go back downstairs. I’ve think I’ve got the key that will open this.’
While Leo went to make some tea, Merry returned to her room and started rummaging in drawers and boxes. Eventually she found it: the charm bracelet Gran had given her for her twelfth birthday.
‘What’ve you got there?’ Leo put the tea down and knelt on the floor next to her.
She held the bracelet up to him by one of the charms: a small silver key.
‘It’s got the same design on it, see?’ Picking up the trinket box, she pushed the key into the keyhole. The lock turned with a faint click. Merry lifted the lid carefully and peeked inside. ‘Curiouser and curiouser. Look.’
She tipped the contents of the box out on to her duvet: a faded fragment of stiff paper, what looked like a short braid of human hair, and the hilt of a sword. Probably a hilt. It didn’t look like it belonged to the type of swords she’d used at fencing club a couple of years back, and it wasn’t big and shiny like the swords in fantasy films. The short grip was wound about with worn strips of leather, the guard was a narrow block of dark-coloured metal, the pommel was gold, set with red stones. And the whole thing looked old. Very old.
‘This is so bizarre. That looks like it should be in a museum. And what on earth is this for?’ asked Leo, picking up the braid of hair and examining it. ‘What does it all mean?’
Merry sighed. ‘Unfortunately, I think it means that we need to go see Gran.’
Leo groaned. ‘What, now?’
‘Course not.’ Merry locked the three objects back in the box. They couldn’t be that important, whatever they were, or they would never have just been left up in the attic. ‘I’ll call her tomorrow. Maybe I can pop over there after school.’ She glanced up at Leo, who was holding a half-eaten biscuit in his hand. His face had gone slightly green. ‘We’d better get some sleep.’
Merry just about managed to drag herself out of bed a couple of hours later. The bus journey took forever – the Tillingbourne river, swollen by two weeks of almost constant rain, was in flood for the first time anyone could remember – but at least first period was indoor netball. The match went well: she scored four goals and chatted to Verity from her history class whenever the action moved out of their third. The trinket box was entirely forgotten. But she shouldn’t have hung around in the changing rooms after everyone else had left. Immersed in noting down the new timetable for the after-school javelin and track club, she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Esther Perkins: a minor bully / major irritant since primary school.
‘Hello, Meredith.’ Esther smirked. ‘Haven’t seen you around for a while.’
Merry shrugged. ‘It’s a big school.’ She moved to go past, but Esther moved too.
‘Really? I thought maybe it was ’cos of Alex. Bet you think you’re a real hero, pulling him out of the river. Bet you think you’re too good to hang round with the rest of us now.’
Merry took a deep breath.
Here we go.
‘Get lost, Esther.’
She stepped forwards, but again the other girl blocked her path.
‘But why did he need rescuing, that’s what I want to know.’ Esther leant closer. ‘I’ve heard what people say about your family. My mum says your gran should be locked up. Says she’s a wicked old bag. Only a matter of time before she ends up hurting someone.’
Stay calm, Merry. Keep control …
Another deep breath.
Oh, this would be so much easier if I still did magic.
I could just put a memory charm on you.
I could make you forget your own name, let alone mine.
Just one little spell …
But that was where it had started with Alex: one little spell, that had led to another, and then another – Merry had promised herself that she would never, ever let anything like that happen again. So instead, she slung her PE bag across her back and forced her way past Esther.
The other girl’s voice followed her out of the changing room, taunting:
‘I know what you are, Meredith Cooper …’
The day slid downhill from there. When her friends went out for a coffee at lunchtime, she had to stay in and finish some overdue art homework. She seemed to be developing some kind of hearing defect: there was definitely a random buzzing sound coming from somewhere, almost like the babble of distant voices, but nobody else could hear it. There was no answer when she called Gran’s landline – the only number she had – to ask about the trinket box. And everyone at school kept going on and on and on about the vicious knife attacks in town. The fact that no one had died so far was, frankly, miraculous.
It was kind of understandable that people wouldn’t shut up about it. Until they started, Tillingham was probably the safest and most boring town in Surrey, if not the country. Gran and the others had made sure of that. The problem now, Merry thought, was the current of excitement running under the fear, the way some people were starting to – well, almost enjoy themselves: dissecting every detail of the attacks as if they were discussing the latest instalment of some gory Scandinavian crime show. After last night’s drama, the whole thing set her teeth on edge.
Later that day, as Merry stood stuffing some folders back into her bag, two girls from her art class came down the hallway, chatting loudly. They stopped at their lockers, right next to Merry’s.
‘So, my aunt called last night – she’s a nurse at the hospital, right?’ said Eloise. ‘And she’s been looking after those people who got attacked.’
‘Oh my God, really?’ exclaimed Lucy.
‘Yeah. She said all four of them had lost huge amounts of blood. That’s why they’re all in comas.’
‘That’s horrible.’ Lucy grimaced.
Eloise leant in closer.
‘Yeah. My aunt says the places where they were attacked must have been covered with blood. Running with it, she reckons.’
‘Ew, that is so disgusting,’ said Lucy. ‘Hey, Merry, did you hear what—’ She stopped. ‘Are you OK?’
No, Merry wanted to say, I’m not OK. Because I can smell the blood, just like in my nightmare, I can almost taste it, and my fingernails are aching like I’m about to cast a spell right here in the middle of the corridor, and –
‘Merry?’
Oh my God, I’m going to be sick.
There were a couple of Year 11 girls hanging out in the toilets, but after one surprised glance at Merry’s face they both left rapidly. Merry held on until the door swung shut behind them then sank to her knees, gripping the edge of the basin in front of her, jamming her fingernails hard against the cold porcelain. Long, slow breaths – that was the key. If she could just calm down, the magic might ebb away again before it could do any damage.
Gradually, the tingling in her fingers subsided. Merry risked relaxing her grip. She stood up slowly, turned on the tap, waited as the water ran over her hands and wrists. As long as she looked more or less normal before she ran into Lucy and Eloise again she could probably –
There was a girl in the mirror. Just standing there, watching her.
Merry jumped and spun around.
The room was empty.
She swung back to the mirror. The girl was still there: a long plait of dark hair hanging over one shoulder, green eyes, full-length dress belted at the waist. Merry began to tremble. Her brain was screaming for her to run, but her legs just wouldn’t cooperate. The girl moved closer, until she stood at Merry’s shoulder, so close Merry ought to have been able to feel her breath against her neck – she leant in, as if she was about to whisper in Merry’s ear –
Pain lanced through Merry’s hands as magic exploded from her fingertips. The large mirror above the handbasins shattered. The girl’s reflection disappeared.
Merry staggered into one of the stalls and locked the door.
Fifteen minutes later, the shaking and the nausea had started to subside. She had no explanation for the imaginary girl. Because she must have been imaginary. It was probably just exhaustion. Or – she touched her fingers to her forehead – perhaps she actually was coming down with an ear infection, and it was giving her a fever. But what she’d done to the mirror … Her magic never used to behave like this, never; yet in the last few weeks it had become – unpredictable. Uncontrollable. Spilling out at odd moments, occasionally heralded by a painful tingling sensation in her fingernails. Completely different from the spells she’d managed to teach herself by sneaking books out of Gran’s house: no words, no rituals, no music. Just raw power. She hadn’t dared try to cast a spell deliberately, to check what was going on. Maybe it was all these months of not allowing herself to practise witchcraft, or the nightmare situation with Alex leading up to her decision to quit. Maybe it was because she’d never been properly trained. She had no idea – there was no one to ask about it. As far as Mum or Gran were concerned, she didn’t do magic.
Merry glanced down at her fingers. Her nails still throbbed, but otherwise there was no outward sign of the energy that had surged through her hands. They looked normal, just like she did. Which was a joke, because she’d wanted to be normal for so long. Not in the beginning, not when she first found out she was a witch, but after Alex –
She was desperate to be normal. At least, she’d thought that was what she wanted. It was what she’d wished for.
Well, maybe she was finally getting her wish. Maybe her magic was going crazy because it was draining away. Leaving her. And that was a good thing. The best thing that could be happening to her.
Wasn’t it?
* * *
The bell rang. Merry was still sitting in the stall, staring absentmindedly at some graffiti daubed across the cubicle door, asking anyone who happened to be sitting on the loo with a pencil to ‘Tick if you came here to get out of PE’. She couldn’t face going to her last class. The day was nearly over, anyhow.
‘Merry? Come on, I – what the – what happened to the mirror?’
Merry swore silently. Ruby was her best friend, had been since they both started secondary school five-and-a-half years ago. She should have known Ruby would come to find her.
‘I know you’re in here, Merry. Lucy said you looked like you were about to faint. Mind you, she also said your fingernails were glowing. Have you bought some of that glow-in-the-dark nail varnish? Can I borrow it?’
Merry emerged from the stall.
Ruby looked her up and down, frowning.
‘You look crap. What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. Just felt a bit sick. I didn’t sleep well last night, but I’m fine now.’ Merry walked over to the basin with the least glass in it, ran the tap and splashed some cold water on her face. A glance in one of the mirrored fragments made her wince. Her hair was wrecked: twisted into knotty tendrils where she’d been running her fingers through it – even more of a contrast than usual to Ruby’s glossy curls. Her face was paler than normal, her hazel eyes puffy and red-rimmed. The ear infection was obviously some horrible virus. Flu, or something. ‘Is there a bug going round?’
‘Not that I know of. Morning sickness?’
‘Hilarious.’
While Merry dried her face on some hand towels, Ruby took the opportunity to pull out a small mirror and touch up her lipstick.
‘So, why aren’t you sleeping? Is it because of these attacks? My sister’s been having nightmares all week.’
Occasionally, Ruby could be almost too perceptive.
‘Your sister’s ten. And why would I have nightmares? I can take care of myself, you know.’
‘Alright, keep your knickers on.’ Ruby started fiddling with the stack of bracelets on her wrist, turning them over and over. ‘I heard from Alex, by the way.’
Merry stiffened. Alex would never reveal to anybody what she’d told him. Probably. And if he did, Ruby wouldn’t believe him. Probably. She’d never believed the gossip that sometimes got repeated about Merry’s family.
Still …
‘He says he’s doing OK,’ Ruby continued. Merry relaxed fractionally. ‘His counsellor’s got him into extreme sport, running obstacle courses or something. Sounded a bit of a nightmare, to be honest, though you’d probably love it.’ She shrugged. ‘I still think you should text him – at least try and figure out what his problem is. I mean, you saved his life, Merry. Surely he must want to talk to you?’
Merry turned away and yanked some more paper towels out of the dispenser. Ruby was right, in a way. Alex had jumped off a bridge into a flooded river, and Merry had gone in after him. She had saved him. Had stopped him drowning, at any rate. But Alex wouldn’t want to talk to her again, not in a million years. He hated her, and she didn’t blame him.
It was definitely time to change the subject.
‘Let’s go to the library for a bit. Leo’s picking me up around six – he could give you a lift home, if you like?’
Ruby’s eyes glazed over.
‘Hell yeah.’
As they stood outside school waiting for Leo, Merry wondered if she had made a mistake. Offering Ruby a lift was probably going to land her in trouble. At eighteen, Leo was only two years older than Merry, but he’d gone all superior and grown-up over the last few months since he’d left school; at least, he had when he wasn’t hanging out with his best friend Dan. Plus, Ruby had a massive crush on him, and she wasn’t shy about letting him know it.
Leo definitely wasn’t into Ruby. He wasn’t really into girls at all. But only Merry knew. Leo hadn’t told anyone else: not Mum, and certainly not any of his friends.
Things had come to a head the previous summer. Leo, Dan and his other close friend, Simon, had spent four months hitchhiking their way around the US. By the time they had flown back to the UK Leo had realised that he liked Dan – really liked him – and not just in a best mates kind of way. Merry remembered the conversation word for word.
‘I think you should tell him, Leo. Maybe he feels the same way.’
