Katharine Corr - The Witch’s Tears

Merry rolled her eyes.

‘Give me a break, Leo. I didn’t mean—’

‘They were beating the crap out of me, Merry. I might have ended up in hospital if it hadn’t been for Ronan. It was … terrible.’

‘I know. I’m really sorry.’

Leo bit his lip, pressing the heel of one hand against his uninjured eye.

‘I just …’

‘What?’

He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

Merry could almost hear her brother’s agony, like he was screaming inside his head, reliving the betrayal and the pain. She wanted to hug him and shake him at the same time, to tell him that she knew the truth and that he didn’t have to suffer on his own.

‘Leo—’

‘Don’t, Merry.’ He stood up. ‘I know what you’re going to ask. But I didn’t see them properly. And even if I had recognised them –’ He seemed to catch his breath, a quick, shuddering gasp that he turned into a cough – ‘even if I had, I can fight my own battles. I don’t need you to – to run around after me like I’m a child, like you’re trying to fix my life.’ He turned to leave the room, but stopped to add: ‘Even a witch can’t just wave a magic wand and make everything better. You should know that by now.’

He left the kitchen and stomped up the stairs. A few moments later, Merry heard the bathroom door slam.

She sighed and started clearing the table. So much for casual conversation.

They had to get a bus to Gran’s house. Leo didn’t feel comfortable driving with one eye out of use. The journey – luckily – wasn’t long. They sat on the top deck, Leo wearing his sunglasses, staring out of the window and drumming his fingers on his knees. Merry tried to talk to him about Ellie Mills and the other dead witches, and the story she’d read, but his replies were monosyllabic. Eventually she gave up and started looking at some new photos Ruby had posted on Instagram: her dad’s parents on their farm, windswept on the north Norfolk coast, interspersed with pictures of her cousins in St Lucia, smiling and squinting in the sunshine. She scrolled up and down through the photos hungrily.

Must be nice, having a normal family. Without quite so much drama.

Fifteen minutes later they were on Gran’s doorstep. As usual, the door opened as they approached. Gran was on the phone when they walked in, but she waved them through to the kitchen, finished her call and gave Leo a hug.

‘My poor darling. Let me have a look.’

Leo took off his sunglasses and Gran tilted his head towards the light.

‘Nasty. But easily dealt with. I’m surprised you couldn’t take care of it, Merry.’

‘Well, the lotion didn’t work. And I have been practising that spell you showed me, but I’m still not confident about actually using it.’ She dropped her gaze. ‘I fixed everything else, though.’

‘Hmm.’ Gran pursed her lips. ‘Well, it won’t take long.’

Merry and Leo sat down at the kitchen table. Gran got a tall green bottle out of one of the cupboards and poured a little of the liquid – violently pink and viscous – on to a cloth. Merry caught the scent of lavender, masking something else: something darker and more pungent.

‘OK, Leo. I need you to hold the cloth over your eye. The spell is effective but rather painful, unfortunately. The liquid on the cloth will take the edge off.’

Leo blanched. ‘Actually, maybe I should wait for it to get better on its own.’

‘Don’t be a baby. Sit still.’

Leo glanced at his sister apprehensively. Merry shrugged and tried to look sympathetic – There’s no point arguing, this is Gran we’re dealing with – and took hold of his free hand. As he pressed the damp cloth to his swollen eye, Gran placed her hands over his and began to sing.

Merry recognised the words. She’d sung them herself often enough, though with no discernible effect. The charm was in Latin, the rough sense of it being an order to the skin to knit back together, repair and renew itself. And it seemed to be working: Leo was gritting his teeth, holding her hand so tightly her fingers hurt. Finally, the last note of the last phrase died away. Leo slumped forward, gasping for breath.

‘Well done, darling.’ Gran pulled his hand and the cloth away from his eye: the skin round his eye was slightly pink, like underneath a scab, but the cuts and the bruising had all but disappeared. As Merry watched, even the pinkness faded, until it was impossible to tell that he’d ever been injured. Leo blinked, opening one eye then the other.

‘My vision’s a bit blurry.’

‘It will settle down soon.’ Gran turned to Merry. ‘That’s what you need to aim for.’

‘Fine, I understand.’ Merry tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. ‘But what about the guys who attacked him? Leo’s refusing to go to the police.’ She waved at Leo’s face. ‘And you just got rid of the evidence.’

‘Merry—’ Leo began, but Gran cut across him.

‘Leo should have gone to the police last night. You should have called them when he got home.’

Merry huffed. So somehow this was her fault too?

‘But,’ Gran continued, ‘since he didn’t want to, the best we can do is put some charms on your brother, protect him from any further physical attacks. I’m sure you can manage it.’

‘But that’s ridiculous! He could have been killed. Even with the oath, there must be something you could do to – to find out who it was.’ She felt her face flush. ‘To punish them.’

Gran put her hands on her hips.

‘What are you expecting, Merry? That we should choose which laws to enforce, decide who’s guilty and hand out sentences? Those things can’t be up to us. It would be too dangerous. Can you imagine a world where people with our kind of power set themselves up in judgement?’

Merry didn’t reply. She understood what Gran was saying. But for Simon to escape scot-free after what he’d done to Leo – it was just wrong.

Gran was checking Leo’s eye again.

‘Vision better?’

Leo nodded. ‘Thanks, Gran.’

‘OK. Now, you can stay if you like, but I have a lot of work to get on with. I’ve had a visitor already this morning and he’s put me terribly behind.’ She turned away and started gathering up some papers that were spread out across the countertop.

‘Anyone we know?’

Gran shook her head.

‘A wizard.’

Merry’s hands gripped the edge of her seat.

‘A wizard? But why did he come here? And why did you let him in?’

Her grandmother finished putting the papers in order – murmuring something to herself as she did so – before turning back to them.

‘It’s customary, if a new witch or wizard moves into the area of an established coven, to visit the head of that coven. Out of courtesy.’ Gran sighed, clearly exasperated. ‘Honestly, Merry, there’s no need for you to be quite so anxious. There are no wizards I trust, only a handful I can tolerate and perhaps two that I count as friends. And I certainly wouldn’t be happy about you spending any more time with a wizard than was strictly necessary. But they are not all deliberately obnoxious. And I know no actual harm of the one who visited me this morning. He’s young, and he obviously has only a slight idea of correct etiquette, but I suppose I shouldn’t hold that against him.’

Merry loosened her grip on the chair fractionally. Obviously, not all wizards were going to be psychopathic crazy guys like Gwydion. Even so. She glanced at her brother, but he was yawning and looking deeply uninterested in the whole conversation.

‘Fine.’ She stood up. ‘We may as well go – we have to catch the bus back. Bye, Gran.’

‘Don’t forget our training session.’

‘I won’t forget.’