Katharine Corr - The Witch’s Tears

Being a full member of the coven should have been kind of cool. All the sisterhood, and that. But surely there were alternatives to everything that came with it? Better alternatives, perhaps. Maybe she could be a sort of … freelance witch? A witch with choices. Possibilities.

Jack would have understood. He would have had something useful to say, if only she could talk to him. He would have taken her mind off the future, at least. Her throat tightened with sadness, and the remaining popcorn dropped out of the air.

Merry swore, sang the beginning of a cleaning spell and sent the scattered popcorn zooming into the bin. Her biggest regret was that she’d never taken a photo of Jack. Right now she could still remember his face clearly, but would that still be true after a year had gone by? A decade? Merry knew she couldn’t have prevented Jack’s death, and she’d come to accept that. Most of the time. But it still hurt. And she still missed him.

Then again, a photo might just have made things worse.

She got up and stretched. Maybe she could talk to Leo instead – if she had any idea where he was. He’d told her that morning that he was going to the cinema tonight, but Merry hadn’t seen his car in the car park. And he wasn’t replying to any of her texts. Still, for a witch, there was always another way.

Merry jumped up, grabbed the drawstring bag that was hanging from the front of her wardrobe, went into the bathroom and started filling the basin with water. Ever since what had happened at the Black Lake, she’d found spells using water – hydromancy – particularly easy. What she was about to do was, theoretically, supposed to be used for talking to another witch when no ordinary method of communication was available. She was just going to tweak it a little. If Leo ever found out, he’d be furious. But …

It’s his own fault for acting so weird, making me worried about him.

Merry had promised, after what they’d been through together at the lake, that she would always be completely honest with Leo. But now she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was keeping stuff from her. Sure, she hadn’t exactly told him how much she was missing Jack. But he hadn’t exactly asked her. And she didn’t want him worrying about her when he seemed to be going through so much pain. Leo still couldn’t bring himself to even mention Dan by name. She’d begged him over and over to let her help him. But he just brushed her off. Every time.

The basin was full. Merry opened the bag; a small selection of stones – some cut and polished, some rounded like sea-washed pebbles – spilt out on to the bath mat. At least she’d remembered to cleanse and recharge the stones after she used them last. Merry selected a chunk of amethyst and a piece of tumbled aquamarine – both good for scrying – and placed them in the bottom of the basin together with her silver bracelet. She spread her hands wide above the water and sang part of the incantation Gran had taught her.

‘The Moon I invoke, a light in the darkness; the Pole Star, eternally present; enable my vision, show what I seek, but shield the seer from all who would harm her …’

The surface of the water became mirror-like, reflecting her own features, before fading to black. Merry closed her eyes and pictured Leo’s face.

Show me my brother …

And there was Leo, sitting in his car, hands on the steering wheel. But he clearly wasn’t driving. Behind him, through the car window, she could just make out what looked like trees.

Oh no. He’s at the lake. Again.

Merry stretched out her fingers, almost touching the surface of the water.

Poor Leo …

* * *

Leo gripped the steering wheel tighter and stared at the dark trees ahead of him. He knew he ought to leave. He knew he shouldn’t be here. Perhaps it would have been better if he had gone travelling with Sam and the others, but then he was convinced that Sam had been … reluctant, when he’d invited him. Whatever. He didn’t need friends like that. The result was that he’d stayed in Tillingham, and over the last few weeks he’d been coming to the Black Lake more and more frequently. It was like a scab that he couldn’t leave alone. To be sitting in his car in the car park, rather than down at the edge of the lake, was better than he’d managed before. But still, he knew that none of this was healthy. And it wasn’t going to bring Dan back.

The funeral had been difficult. He hadn’t dared show too much emotion, hadn’t dared risk revealing his true feelings in front of so many of his other friends. He’d gone home, tried to put it behind him, to carry on as if nothing had changed.

When in fact everything was different. He was different.

The future Leo had been planning in his head for so long now belonged to somebody else. He wasn’t sure that he even wanted any of it.

Leo turned the key in the ignition and reversed the car out on to the road. Maybe university would still be the best thing for him. It would get him away from Tillingham, away from what had happened here. And it wasn’t like Merry needed him any more.

He changed gear and accelerated, wondering whether Merry would ever learn a spell to see into the future, wondering what it would show. Him as a doctor, an overworked GP in some suburban practice? Merry still in Tillingham, running the coven? And would either of them be happy?

Leo pulled up in front of the house. The lights were on in Merry’s bedroom, which meant she was still awake, probably waiting up for him. Thankfully, Mum was on a yoga retreat with a work friend until Friday, so at least there wouldn’t be any awkward questions. But lately, Merry had been watching him closely, badgering him to ‘open up’ to her. Which wasn’t going to happen. A tiny part of him had somehow become convinced that, eventually, Dan would have loved him back. But there was no way he could admit that. Not even to his sister. So instead he’d made even more of an effort to try to act normal. But tonight …

Tonight, he’d messed up. Even if he’d stayed out for a couple of drinks after the cinema, he should have been home ages ago.

The moon emerged briefly from behind the clouds, and silver light flooded the landscape. Leo got out of the car, locked it and stood for a moment, gazing through the branches of the willow that grew next to the garage, out across the lawn.

Somebody was there. Someone was standing right at the edge of the garden, just beyond the overgrown rockery, looking up at the house.

FOR A FRACTION of a second Leo was paralysed, staring at the figure on the other side of the lawn. Then the clouds came over, the figure disappeared and, just as though a spell had been lifted, Leo was running: tearing round the back of the car, sprinting across the garden until he got to the rockery and found –

No one.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket – noticing that his hands were trembling, that all of him was trembling – switched on the torch and shone it around. There was the hedge that separated the garden from the road and the neighbouring houses. There was the unused, partly boarded-up greenhouse that Mum could never afford to get repaired. There was the back of the house, all in darkness apart from a faint glimmer coming from the bathroom. The whole garden was still, not even the whisper of a breeze to break the tranquillity.

Perhaps it had been Merry. What he’d taken for short, darkish hair could have been a hat. Or …

Leo reached the edge of the patio and the security lights snapped on, their yellow beams illuminating the entire garden.

He was being ridiculous. If there had been someone in the garden, the lights would already have been on. And why on earth would his sister be wandering around outside at this time of night? A car sped along the road in front of the house. After it had passed, the silence rolled back again. Leo yawned and squeezed his eyes shut. He never seemed to get enough sleep these days – maybe it was all messing with his head.