Katharine Corr - The Witch’s Tears

‘It’s Rumpelstiltskin,’ Merry said out loud, and the cat blinked in agreement. In the version Merry had read as a child, the girl wasn’t a witch. And she ended up married to the greedy king. But presumably the ending would be the same: someone would figure out Rumpelstiltskin’s name just in time, and the bad fairy – or whatever he was – would disappear in a puff of frustrated rage. She turned the page to read on.

So, in fear of her life, and thinking that she may never be a mother, the witch finally agreed. The visitor burnt an invisible rune into the witch’s skin, just above her breastbone, and settled himself at the spinning wheel to begin his task …

The next morning, the earl was delighted with the shimmering cloak. And, much to the witch’s surprise, he kept his word, releasing her from the castle and presenting her with a large bag of gold.

Now wealthy, the witch was soon married to a young man she had long loved from a distance, the son of a local merchant. She forgot all about her promise to the mysterious stranger, until she fell pregnant with her first child. The witch began asking all the travellers she encountered for news of a man who could spin flax into gold, hoping to learn her visitor’s name. But no one had heard of such a man. So instead she sought to protect her family from the stranger, seeking help from many other witches and wizards. And it seemed to work: no one appeared to claim the baby, and the little girl grew in wisdom and in power. Until, nearly twenty years later, the witch, now a widow, heard a commotion outside her house. Thinking it was her daughter returned from gathering herbs, the witch hurried to open the door.

It was the stranger, looking exactly the way he had all those years ago. And in his arms, he held her unconscious daughter.

‘I have come to collect my debt,’ the man said. ‘Have you discovered my name?’

The witch, overcome with terror, could only shake her head.

The stranger smiled. ‘Then I shall take what I am owed.’ He laid her daughter on the floor and sank his fingernails into her face and began to draw out her power, while the witch, pinned in place by the rune on her chest, looked on helplessly …

Merry shuddered and pushed the book away from her, not wanting to read the last few lines.

That’s not a fairy tale. It’s a horror story.

There was a bad taste in her mouth. She drained her glass of water and stood up. At the same time a crash came from somewhere outside; fear bolted down her spine like an electric shock. She turned the light out and hurried to the window, peering into the darkness.

The lawn, the flower beds, the outline of next-door’s house: as far as she could see, everything was as it should be.

Merry started breathing again, picked up her books and ran upstairs. Apart from the thumping of the blood pounding through her chest, the house was silent; there were no sounds from Leo’s room.

And now she thought about it, there had been no sign in the kitchen that Leo – not usually the best at clearing up after himself – had cooked any dinner. She’d never known her brother to be too ill to eat. He was either seriously unwell, or lying his backside off. Walking to the other end of the corridor, where her bedroom faced his, she knocked on Leo’s door.

‘Leo?’

No answer. She turned the handle carefully, peeped inside.

The bed was empty.

Anxiety chilled her skin, making her shiver. She went into her own room and texted him.

Where are you? Thought you were home sick???

She waited, then sent the same text again. And again.

After the fourth text, Leo replied.

I’m out. Don’t wait up. If you’re worried just use your magic to spy on me again.

Merry sighed. Leo was right: it was spying. She couldn’t forget the angry, disappointed look on his face. So instead she got ready for bed, slipping into her pyjamas and under the covers quickly. She texted for the next hour with Ruby, then picked up a new book she’d just got from the library and tried to read. But she couldn’t concentrate. Something kept niggling at her. Her gaze wandered over to the wardrobe in the corner of the room.

Merry, get a grip.

Don’t even think about it.

She returned to her book, but found herself rereading the same paragraph. She glanced at the wardrobe again.

Come on. Don’t be ridiculous.

But there was no resisting it. She jumped out of bed, went to her dressing table and fished the large key out of her jewellery box. Then she marched over to the wardrobe and opened the doors. At the bottom, pushed right to the back, was an old cardboard box. Inside that was the trinket box, the contents of which Merry had used to defeat Gwydion only three months ago.

She unlocked it. The braid of Edith’s hair and the manuscript still lay inside. Mum had suggested burning them, to celebrate the fulfilment of Meredith’s oath symbolically. But Merry couldn’t bear the thought of destroying the only things that linked her, however tenuously, to Jack.

She hesitated, then picked up the manuscript and took a deep breath. Heart pounding, she opened it …

The pages were completely blank. Just as they had been ever since the day the manuscript had last been used. Ever since the day Jack died.

See? Nothing’s wrong. No magical activity going on whatsoever. You can stop being an idiot now.

Her hands were shaking. She carefully replaced the manuscript in the trinket box and hid it in the wardrobe again.

It was really late now. She got back into bed and had just reached over to switch off the bedside lamp when she heard the sound of voices. There was somebody downstairs.

THE FIRST THING Merry noticed was blood. Deep red blood glistening on Leo’s face, matted in his hair, staining his blue shirt a dirty brown. Blood all over the hands of the guy who was helping him. Holding him upright.

‘Oh my God – what happened? You need an ambulance! Why isn’t he at hospital?’

‘No –’ Leo shook his head, wincing as the stranger helped him into the living room and lowered him on to the sofa. ‘I’ll … I’ll be OK. ’S just … bruising.’ He sank back against the cushions and closed his eyes.

‘But what if you need stitches? What if you have internal bleeding?’ Merry heard the hysteria sharpening her voice. ‘There’s so much blood!’

‘Not all of it’s his.’ The stranger spoke for the first time, his voice bearing the trace of an Irish accent. ‘He gave as good as he got, didn’t you, mate?’

‘He got into a fight ? I thought – I thought there’d been a car crash.’

‘No. He was jumped. Couple of guys right on the edge of town. There’s an alleyway that leads down to the river?’

Merry knew the place he meant. It was an unlit, unpaved passageway between a car park on one side and the blank wall of a shopping centre on the other.

‘What the hell were you doing there, Leo?’ Her brother didn’t answer. Merry picked up the cordless phone from the coffee table. ‘I’m calling the police.’

Leo opened one eye. The other was swollen almost shut.

‘No. No police.’

‘But, Leo!’

‘Don’t. Please …’ He started trying to get up off the sofa.

The stranger reached over and pressed him gently back down again.

‘It’s OK, Leo.’ He looked up at Merry. ‘Maybe wait? Until he’s less distressed.’

Merry gritted her teeth.