Katharine Corr - The Witch’s Blood

Ronan shook his head.

‘No, she won’t. They won’t let her. The coven, I mean. Besides, she has Finn now.’

Finn, the wizard who’d shown up in Tillingham just after Gran had gone missing? It was true that he and Merry had been spending a lot of time together, but Leo couldn’t quite remember whether his sister had actually been dating the guy. Finn had been there too, hadn’t he? At the lake, that night. Ronan was still talking.

‘Finn will take her back to Ireland and she’ll forget all about her big brother. He’ll make sure of that.’ Ronan stood up, dragged one of the furs off the bed and tossed it to Leo. ‘That’s what you never understood about witches and wizards. We’re selfish. We might try to hide it with oaths about helping plebs and so on, but that’s just a veneer. Even for your precious sister. She has her power. And now she’s with Finn, she’ll have position and wealth as well – everything she could possibly want. To be sure, she’ll grieve for you, for a while. But then she’ll move on.’

‘No. You’re lying, you’re—’ Leo tried to force himself back through the wall as Ronan walked towards him. ‘Merry wouldn’t leave me here with you. She wouldn’t.’

Ronan crouched down in front of him. ‘We’ll see. But in the meantime, you need to trust me, Leo. You belong to me now, and I’m going to take care of you …’

ACK.

Nearly five months had passed since they’d last stood face to face. But Merry would have known him anywhere. Sure, his hair was shorter. And his clothes were different. Gone were the princely garments with the rich embroidery and fur trimming. Instead, he was wearing coarse woollen trousers, a cloth shirt and a ragged leather tunic. His forearms were painted with patterns and symbols, dark blue lines swirling and interlocking. The only hint of luxury was a gold belt buckle, which gleamed with hints of red and green, despite the dull grey light. And he looked older. Wearier.

Still, she knew him.

He was the same boy she’d fallen in love with. The same cursed prince who had been put into an enchanted sleep fifteen hundred years ago and had woken in her own time, still possessed by a creature summoned from the shadow realm. Of course, he’d been a corpse the last time she’d seen him. Actually seen him, not just dreamt about him. His dead body had been lying on the floor of the wizard Gwydion’s chambers, beneath the Black Lake. She’d knelt by him, wept over him, kissed him –

The temptation to run to him now, to throw her arms round his neck, was almost too strong to resist.

But Jack – this Jack – was holding a long, angular knife to Finn’s throat. Finn was on his knees in the snow, panting, his face pale and rigid. Jack had hold of Finn’s hair, and as Merry stepped forward he yanked the wizard’s head further back, making the other boy cry out in pain. The blade was hard against Finn’s skin now, and Merry could see a bead of blood welling up against the dark metal.

Jack frowned at her. There was no recognition.

‘Who are you? And how do you know my name?’

She tried to read his feelings, to use that ability to pick up emotions that she’d gained a few months ago. But there was nothing. Either the people were different here – wherever here was – or the passage through the point of intersection had done something to her. She could sense her magic clearly, running like a current beneath her skin. But nothing else.

Finn whimpered as Jack pressed the knife further into his flesh.

‘Answer me!’

Jack had forgotten her. Or …

Or maybe, in this place, he and I have never actually met.

‘Jack, please—’ She stopped short, felt her eyes widen. The unfamiliar syllables of Old English felt strange in her mouth, just as they had done under the lake all those months ago when she’d confronted Gwydion. Her magic must have just taken over, and her brain switched language automatically. She didn’t know how it had happened, any more than she knew where she was, or why Finn – a powerful wizard himself – hadn’t disarmed Jack with a spell, or why Jack seemed so different from the gentle, sad prince that she remembered. Any more than she knew what to do next.

Merry pressed her hands to her eyes. The frost-laden air hurt her nose and throat. The dense forest that surrounded them breathed out a dark, velvet silence that seemed to suck at her eardrums. Still, with her eyes closed, she could almost imagine she was back home in her room in the middle of the night, Mum asleep at the other end of the corridor and Leo in the room opposite hers, even the cats quietly dreaming on top of the boiler in the kitchen …

‘Well?’

Jack’s voice jerked her back to the present. She had to get Finn away from him. Not through magic, though: whoever this Jack was, she didn’t want to hurt him.

‘We’re not enemies. We just need your help.’ Merry spread her hands wide, palms up. ‘Please, let him go.’

Jack didn’t release his grip on Finn’s hair. But he did shift the knife slightly, loosening the pressure on Finn’s neck.

‘You have not answered my question. How do you know me? And what manner of creature are you?’

‘I’m not a creature. I’m just a girl.’

Jack looked her up and down. ‘You are not clad as a girl.’

‘Well, I am a girl. You’re going to have to take my word for it. I’m not … I’m not from around here. And as to how I know you –’ Merry paused, thinking quickly – ‘I have a friend who knows you. She’s called Meredith.’ Meredith, her ancestor, the witch who had placed both Jack and Gwydion into the enchanted sleep. The witch who had sworn the oath that had got Merry involved with Jack in the first place. Merry peered into Jack’s eyes, looking in vain for a reaction. Perhaps in this reality he hadn’t met Meredith yet, or perhaps she didn’t even exist in this world. Or maybe he did know her, but he had a really excellent poker face. ‘Finn’s my friend too, so if you could just—’

‘What are you doing here? Were you following me? Spying on me?’

Merry pinched the bridge of her nose; she was starting to develop a headache.

‘No. We’re not spies. I’m looking for my brother. He was taken against his will, and I think he might have been brought here. Maybe a few days ago.’ She glanced at the brooding forest around them, hoping for some sign that she was right, that Leo had been here too. The daylight was fading quickly, and the darkness of the forest was nearly impenetrable. Merry shivered, wrapping her arms round herself; she had two jumpers and a long-sleeved T-shirt on, but still the chill was worming its way into her bones. ‘Please, Jack. I need your help.’

Jack gazed at her for a few seconds. Then he let go of Finn and stepped away. But he kept his knife drawn, his stance suggesting he could spring into action in the space of a breath. Finn sagged forward, clutching at his neck.

Merry edged closer. ‘Do you need help?’

Finn pushed himself upright and staggered over to stand next to her. He was trembling. She took his hand, peering up into his face, but he avoided her gaze. ‘Finn?’

‘Just, um … just give me a minute. I’ll be fine.’ Sliding down against the trunk of a tree, he dropped his head into his hands.

Merry turned back to Jack. ‘Leo, my brother – he’s blond, like you, and he’s wearing trousers, and has this strange mark on his chest …’ She winced, remembering the ugly scrawl that Ronan had burnt into Leo’s skin. ‘And he was with another guy who has dark, curly hair, and he calls himself Ronan, but—’

‘Ronan?’ Jack laughed, but there was no humour in it. The sound seemed dead in the cold air. ‘I know of Ronan. Everyone does. There’s neither a village nor a hamlet in the land that has been left untouched by him and his … creatures. He turns all to darkness and ruin. The kingdom was cursed from the moment he came here.’ He thrust the long knife back into the scabbard that hung at his waist. ‘I am sorry for you. Truly. But if Ronan has taken your brother …’ He shrugged. ‘There is nothing you can do. Apart from pray to whichever gods you serve that your brother is already dead.’ He brushed his fingers across marks tattooed on to the insides of his wrists. Runes of some sort , Merry thought, though she couldn’t see them clearly. ‘You should leave whilst you still can. The borders are closing fast as the black holly spreads.’ Jack turned and pulled something out of the undergrowth: Finn’s bag. ‘Here.’