Katharine Corr - The Witch’s Blood

Leo took a deep breath in. ‘Yes. I am. I’m ready.’ He let go of Ronan and stepped back. ‘What would you have me do?’

Ronan’s face was glowing with excitement. ‘The binding ceremony. Remember, Leo? I told you about it before. One of the spells I learnt since coming here.’ He began pacing up and down, rubbing his hands. ‘Once it’s done, you’ll belong to me completely. Forever.’

Belong? That was the only way Ronan seemed to be able to think about love. As if it was just a more intense form of ownership.

Leo smiled wanly. ‘Till death do us part?’

‘Not even death.’ Ronan laughed again. ‘I’m not planning on dying, and I’m going to find a way to keep you alive too. To keep you safe. Nothing will ever separate us, Leo. Nothing, and nobody.’

After he and Ronan had spent some more time talking, discussing their ‘future’, Leo persuaded Ronan that he needed rest. Ronan seemed eager not to do anything to jeopardise their reconciliation, or to undermine Leo’s resolve. Eventually – after professing his love over and over – he left Leo to sleep.

But one thing Ronan insisted on doing before he went was choosing a time for the binding ceremony. A few days were needed to prepare all that was required for the spell. Ronan was also keen to enhance its power by holding it on a magically significant date. He’d settled on the winter solstice.

It was little more than a week away: Leo’s stomach churned at the thought of it. He hated the idea of binding himself to someone so evil, so insane. But what choice did he have? He’d hoped that by continually refusing to be in any kind of relationship with Ronan, the other man would be persuaded to let him go, to send him home. But Ronan hadn’t given up. Instead, he’d isolated Leo and locked him away in this tower in an attempt to forcibly change his mind. And Ronan’s patience – Leo could tell – had worn thin.

This was his only hope now: that after the ceremony, Ronan would let his guard down. That there would be an opportunity, at some moment when Ronan was relaxed and undefended – was asleep, perhaps – for Leo to kill him.

Leo knew that he probably wouldn’t survive, either. Most likely, even if he managed to kill Ronan, he’d die with him. He suspected the binding ceremony would somehow tie his life to Ronan’s. He’d seen that kind of magic before: Gwydion had tied Jack’s life to his, as a form of protection. But even if by some miracle Leo did survive, he’d still have no way to get home.

Maybe Ronan’s grip on this world would weaken with his death, and maybe the worst of the nightmarish creatures that served him would disappear. But Ronan had ordinary human supporters too. If Leo ran, they would almost certainly hunt him down, wouldn’t they?

May as well let them find me.

If he was lucky, they would kill him quickly. Better that than spend the rest of his life trapped in this place.

Sighing, he swung his legs out of bed and crossed over to the small wooden table that stood in the centre of his room. He picked up the crude charcoal drawing he’d sketched earlier that day. It was a picture of his home, and of the old willow tree, with its slender, drooping branches, that stood next to the garage. He’d even included his battered Peugeot parked in the driveway. It was one of many pictures he’d tried to make over the past few months. He wanted to set things down on paper as much as he could, to have some tangible record of what his life had been. He didn’t have his phone any more, or any photos. All he had left was what was inside his head. And he’d been determined to hold on to that for as long as possible. But now … what was the point? What did it matter whether he forgot his home, his friends and his family? If he had no future, it seemed futile, to try to hold on to the past.

Taking the drawing, Leo held it over a candle and watched as the flame began to eat into it, making the paper blacken and curl.

ERRY WAS STIFF,and she could feel hard ground beneath her. She thought about moving. But she was also pleasantly warm. It was almost like she was snuggled up against someone …

Her eyes shot open. The witch fire she’d conjured last night was still flaming away against the roof of the cave, and the embers of the fire were flickering, but there was something else too: a faint gleam coming from the cave entrance. Daylight. Finn’s arm was draped across her waist, and he was lying right behind her, breathing softly. She turned her head, peering over her shoulder.

‘Finn?’

He muttered something in his sleep.

‘Finn, wake up.’ Merry nudged him with her elbow.

‘Huh? Merry?’ He squinted at her and pulled her closer.

‘Finn – no. It’s morning. We should find Jack.’

‘Jack?’ Finn rolled away from her with a groan. ‘I thought – I thought it was a nightmare. But it’s not, is it?’ He covered his face with his hands. ‘This is real.’

Merry sat up. ‘Depends on your definition of real. I’m not even sure we’re in a real place. Jack was telling me last night about—’

‘Yeah,’ Finn interrupted, ‘I heard. Elves, dragons, mermaids, et cetera.’ He pushed himself up on to his elbows. ‘Maybe he’s making it up. Or he’s insane.’

‘I don’t think so. But my point is, this place is crazy. It’s not normal, even for Anglo-Saxon England. So maybe the crazy is affecting you, and once we get home again you’ll be fine.’

‘Maybe. But that still doesn’t explain why you haven’t lost your power.’ He sat up properly, wincing and rubbing his arm.

‘Well, perhaps I will. My power’s always been a bit weird; perhaps I’m just more resistant than you to whatever’s happening. Or –’ Merry fished a hairband out of her pocket and tied her hair back – ‘maybe your family wasn’t actually magical back in the Dark Ages?’

‘No, it wasn’t. Our family line only dates from 1483, apparently. That’s when Richard Lombard murdered all the other wizards operating in his territory and founded the very first Kin House.’ Finn smiled ruefully. ‘Right bunch of ruthless bastards, the Lombards used to be. Still are, some would say.’

Merry grimaced. ‘Nice. But my point is, if your family weren’t magical back in whatever year we’re supposed to be in, perhaps that’s why you’ve no power here. Right now, in this place, all the Lombards who exist are plebs.’

Finn blew out his breath slowly, considering. ‘I hope you’re right. Cos this is up there with the day my brother fell into a coma for how much fun I’m not having. It’s like some part of me has been cut away.’ He sniffed and glanced sideways at her. ‘What if my magic doesn’t return? What if I have to feel like this every day for the rest of my life?’

Merry pushed away the alarm building in her chest.

‘You won’t. We’re going to find Leo and get out of here. And then you’ll be fine.’ Finn didn’t look convinced.

But he should be. Because that’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to make sure of it.

Merry disentangled her legs from the blanket and stood up. ‘I’ll go and find Jack. Back in a minute.’

After the dim interior of the inner cave, the daylight nearer the entrance made her squint. And then she pushed past the curtain of ivy and had to shield her eyes with her hand. A red sun was rising, making the snow sparkle. Jack was a little distance from the cave; he’d taken Sorrel’s saddle off and was rubbing a cloth over the horse’s back. He turned and watched Merry approach.