The Witch’s Kiss Trilogy

Gran’s summary had been brutally brief. As Gwydion’s curse took hold, Jack spent more time transformed into the King of Hearts, and the wizard began sending him out to kill. He cut out the hearts of those in love with an enchanted sword and took the hearts back to Gwydion, so the wizard could use them to increase his mastery of dark magic. The murders, and the evil spells the wizard was using, began to blight the kingdom. Crops failed, the population dwindled, and the lives of Edith and Aiden were overshadowed by grief. Anwen’s three daughters, bound by their mother’s promise, wanted to find a way to free Jack from the curse and kill Gwydion. But they soon discovered that the wizard had protected his life and linked it to Jack’s through a powerful enchantment: they could not destroy Gwydion without first overthrowing this enchantment. And they realised they didn’t have the power to do it.

Still, Gwydion had to be stopped. So, the sisters bought time: they put both Jack and Gwydion into an enchanted sleep. One of the sisters, the youngest, vowed that she – or one of her descendants – would one day return to finally defeat the wizard.

Oh, and the name of the youngest witch was Meredith.

Because, obviously, if you want to protect your daughter from an Anglo-Saxon magical oath, the one thing you should definitely do is give her the same name as the person who swore the oath in the first place.

According to Gran, everyone else in the family thought the name was unlucky, but Mum had chosen it because ‘she just wanted to be difficult.’

Way to go, Mum.

And that was it. Now Jack had woken up, and Gwydion could wake up at any minute, and the stuff in the box was supposed to help Merry kill the wizard – whatever that entailed.

The anger boiled up again inside Merry’s chest.

‘I don’t want to have to deal with this, Leo! I know my life isn’t perfect, or super-worthwhile or anything, but it’s my life. I should have a say – I should get to choose whether I want to face some evil wizard or not. But instead, just because some – some insane relative of ours from hundreds of years ago decided to swear an oath – I’m stuck, I’m—’

She screamed and pounded her fists up and down on the dashboard.

‘Merry, calm down.’

‘I don’t want to calm down! I don’t see why this should all fall on me! You’re just as much a descendent of Meredith as I am. And you’re older, and way smarter. Its just totally sexist that men can’t be witches, and – and …’ She got out of the car and slammed the door as hard as she could. Leo followed her.

‘Hey, watch it! There’s no reason to try and smash up my car.’

‘Do I look like I care about your stupid car?’

‘None of this is my fault. All I want to do is help you.’ Leo tried to wipe some of the rain off his face with his sleeve. ‘Look, let’s go inside. We’re going to get soaked standing out here.’

‘Stop being so bloody reasonable, Leo! You really don’t get it, do you? What’s the point in worrying about the rain when I’m probably going to – to—’

Pain seared Merry’s fingers.

Oh God, no. Not now –

Merry dug her fingernails into her palms, trying to stop her anger in its tracks, but it was too late. She spun away from Leo, flung her hands out –

It was like someone had turned down the volume on the whole world. In that moment of stillness long tendrils, black and thorny, erupted from the ground in front of her. They rippled in the air, waving back and forth almost as if they were looking for something …

‘What – the hell – is that?’ Leo’s voice was shaking. He edged closer to the tendrils, stretching out a hand.

‘Get out of the way!’

Leo threw himself sideways as the tendrils lashed out. He wasn’t quite quick enough: blood welled up from a long scratch on the side of his neck. Behind him, the tendrils fastened on to a big camellia bush right next to where he had been standing – ripped it out of the ground – dragged it back into the hole from which they had sprung. The earth collapsed back on itself and was still.

Merry stared at the broken ground.

I nearly killed him. I nearly –

What’s wrong with me?

‘Leo, I’m so sorry.’

Leo was still sitting on the ground, one hand pressed to the side of his neck.

‘How did you do that, Merry? How? And why?’

‘I didn’t mean to! I don’t know …’

‘Because you told me you could only do small-scale stuff. That,’ he stood up and pointed to where the bush used to stand, ‘that was not small-scale. How did you do it?’

‘Honestly, Leo, I don’t know.’ She stepped towards him.

Leo backed away.

Merry flinched. It felt as though he’d just slapped her.

‘Leo—’

He held up his hand to silence her.

‘I just need a few minutes, Merry. I have to get my head round … whatever this is.’

‘But you’re hurt.’

‘I’ll be fine.’ He walked away from her, towards the house.

Merry choked back a sob and pushed the wet hair out of her eyes. Leo opened the front door; she watched him slam it behind him, then she turned into the road that lead to Tillingham and started to run.

Merry ran as fast as she could into the centre of town. Her trainers were soaked – the whole of her was soaked – but the physical exertion took the edge off her anger and hurt and cooled them to a dull pain that settled like lumps of rock in the pit of her stomach. The rain eased to a drizzle. With no real aim, she wandered up the hill to the castle. The building was a jumble of different architectural styles in cream-coloured stone and red brick: an ivy-clad medieval tower; a Tudor bit with tall, arched windows, built when Elizabeth I came to visit; various Victorian renovations. But even the oldest sections, seven hundred years old, were young compared to the story Gran had told them earlier.

Nearly fifteen hundred years had passed since Merry’s ancestor had – allegedly – uttered the oath that landed Merry in this mess. She couldn’t take it in. When Gran had been talking, the people – Jack, Edith, Anwen – had all seemed so alive, so real. Merry felt she knew them, cared about them; it had been more like watching a film than just listening to a story. But apart from Jack – how had she known his name, in that nightmare? – they had all been dead for centuries.

Merry couldn’t get inside the castle. It had a notice outside: temporary closure. Quite a few of the shops and restaurants along the high street were closed too; she’d noticed it last night. In the ten days since the attacks began, the situation in town had deteriorated; there had been minor protests outside the police station – people demanding more police presence, or maybe even the army – and the night before last a fight had broken out in one of the pubs. The tree-cloaked slopes of the North Downs frowned above the town, their tops disappearing into the fog that had become an almost permanent feature in the last few weeks. Merry shivered. The whole atmosphere of Tillingham was different. Now she understood: the protection the town had been under, that had kept it safe and unchanged all these years, was being overwhelmed, just as the swollen river was overwhelming the sandbags piled along its banks. And everybody seemed to feel it. A few people were around, heading out for the evening or finishing their shopping. But they walked hurriedly, heads down against the dank evening air, avoiding eye contact, clinging to the safety of the street lamps that were just flickering into life.

Merry wandered down to the station, ignoring the curious gaze of the police officers standing by the exit. From here, she could get a train to London, and from London she could get to Manchester, Edinburgh – even further if she went back and got her passport –

How far would she have to run, to escape this madness? How long would she have to keep running?

Merry looked at the bank of ticket machines, hesitated, and turned instead into the small waiting room. She needed to think, to work out what she should do.

The waiting room was warm, at least. She sat for a while, watching the trains come and go through the misted windows. The room was full of people sheltering from the rain. A babble of conversations swirled around her: who had been attacked – why – when would the attacker strike next?

Maybe you should run, said one part of her brain. Sure, some people might die. But you probably won’t be able to stop that anyway, and at least you won’t be one of them. You’re not trained for any of this. You most definitely did not sign up for it.

‘But what happened to him? Where is he?’ A shrill-voiced woman nearby cut across her thoughts. Merry frowned in annoyance, and sank further down in her seat.

No, said the other part of her brain, you didn’t sign up for it. But how many lives is your life worth? What if fifty people die, or a hundred? What if he cuts the heart out of one of your friends? Look around you. What if Gwydion manages to create the army he wants? What if he destroys your home and everyone you love, and everything you’ve ever known?

The thought of so much loss, on such a scale – Merry almost gasped with the pain of it.

But if I stay, I’m definitely going to die. The first voice was pleading now. I may as well just jump in front of the next train and cut out the middleman. There’s no way I’m going to be able to stop a wizard. Even if I knew what I was doing, I haven’t successfully cast a spell for months. All I’ve done is break stuff and nearly kill Leo: I’m useless and dangerous all at the same time –

‘But you promised!’ A small child sitting on the next bench was pulling on her mother’s sleeve; as Merry watched, the child began to cry. ‘You said you would. You said …’

Merry got up and moved over to the window. The heat and noise in the room were starting to make her head ache. She put a hand out to steady herself on the windowsill. The voices got louder, making it impossible to think.

‘—it’s all my fault. I should have stopped him—’

‘—don’t blame yourself, you have lost so much—’

‘—and my sisters, gone—’

‘—for it to be truly over—’

And there she was, on the other side of the glass: the girl Merry had seen in the mirror at school, wearing the same clothes, her face only centimetres from Merry’s. Merry gazed at her, barely breathing –

A non-stop express to London tore through the station, horn blaring, setting the glass in the window shuddering. Merry blinked – there was no one on the other side of the window now. She pushed her way out of the waiting room and scanned the platform as far as she was able to from behind the ticket gates, but the girl had vanished.

Maybe she got on a train.

Who am I kidding? There is no girl. She’s a ghost. Or I’m going mad, and this whole thing is actually in my head –

Oh, God. What am I going to do?

She shivered, wound her scarf tighter around her neck and walked unsteadily back out of the station. The policemen stared at her again. No wonder – with the rain and the crying her face was probably streaked with mascara. Maybe she had a tissue in her bag –

‘Merry?’

She jumped.

‘Leo! What are you doing here?’

‘Sorry. I’ve been looking for you.’ He tilted his head. ‘You OK?’

‘Not really. I can’t – I don’t know how to deal with all this.’

‘I know. And I went and made it worse. I’m really sorry, about earlier. I know you would never hurt me.’

‘But I did, didn’t I?’

‘Not on purpose. Anyway – I’m sorry.’ He took her elbow and steered her to a bench. ‘Friends?’

Merry nodded, blinking away the tears that were threatening to spill on to her cheeks.

‘I think I might be going mad, Leo. Either that, or I’ve acquired my own personal ghost.’ She told him about the two visions she’d had of the dark-haired girl. ‘Do you reckon it might be Meredith?’

Leo grimaced. ‘Lord, I hope not. That’s all we need: another insane female relative trying to push us around. As if Mum and Gran weren’t enough.’

‘She probably wants to stop me doing a runner.’

‘Maybe. But I wouldn’t blame you, if you did.’ He pulled his phone out and started tapping on the screen. ‘Were you?’ he added eventually. ‘About to run away, I mean?’

‘I was thinking about it.’ Merry looked at the lights of the town, climbing up the hill. ‘But I don’t want to leave. This is my home. It’s been our family’s home for centuries. If Gran’s right, and I am the only one who can stop Gwydion—’ she swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, ‘—I can’t just walk away, can I? I have to try.’ Even if I’m almost certain to fail. Even if I’m terrified of dying, or of something worse. ‘What do you reckon?’

‘That you’re right. You should stay.’

Merry shifted so she could see Leo’s face. He was obviously anxious: his jaw was tense and he was drumming his fingers on the edge of the bench.

‘Really? Why?’

‘Because – because of what you said, of course. Besides, remember what Gran told us, about the things in the box?’ Merry did: they were the culmination of over a thousand years of preparation by generations of witches, all studying ways and means of destroying Gwydion if – when – the wizard reawakened. Or something along those lines. ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t beat Gwydion.’

Merry almost laughed.

‘Apart from the fact that I’ve never been officially taught how to do any magic, I think Gran is seriously over-estimating my abilities, and I doubt they have The Complete Guide to Killing Evil Wizards in the school library …’ She tried to breathe slowly. Getting hysterical again wasn’t going to help. Gran seemed to think it didn’t matter that Merry was untrained: her natural ability, plus the trinket box, would be enough. ‘Maybe you should leave, Leo. Get away from Tillingham before anything kicks off. At least one of us would be safe.’

‘Now you’re being an idiot. We’re in this together, OK? Even though most of the time you’re a complete pain in the arse, you’re still my sister.’

Another train clattered along the tracks behind them. Merry nudged Leo’s arm.

‘Hey – I’m sorry about the whole killer bush thing.’

‘Yeah. About that—’

‘I’ve never done anything like it before, honest. I was just angry. I wasn’t thinking about – about hurting you, or anything like that. Even if I knew how I’d done it, I don’t think I could repeat it.’ She sighed. ‘My magic’s all over the place at the moment. I thought I was losing my powers, but maybe I’ve just lost control. I’ve literally no idea.’

‘Don’t worry – I’m sure Gran will sort it out. Too bad about the killer bush, though. It could have been a useful weapon against Gwydion.’ Leo stood up. ‘Well, maybe that box of magical junk will save the day. You want to go home and try to figure out how to use it?’

‘No. I think Gran said that I have to wait for the parchment thing to “speak to me”.’ She’d have to check that later – there had been way too much information to process in one afternoon. ‘But going home?’ Merry rubbed the tight muscles in the back of her neck. ‘Yeah, that sounds like a plan.’

Mum arrived back from France the next morning. Dark-haired and petite, she normally came across as completely self-controlled and self-confident. But today, Merry thought, her mother seemed awkward and twitchy, huddled inside her well-fitting clothes. And she definitely wasn’t happy.

‘But how could you not have called me, Leo? I left you in charge. If I’d known about the attacks I would have come home early.’

‘Mum,’ Leo shook his head, disbelief clear on his face, ‘you’ve never come home early from a business trip, not even when Merry broke her leg.’ That particular example of maternal indifference had bothered Leo, for some reason, though Merry hadn’t been surprised. Mum had never exactly been super-affectionate, and for the last four years she’d worked abroad a lot. ‘Anyway, the attacks have been all over the news. How could you have missed it?’

‘I’ve been working eighteen-hour days, that’s how: where do you think the money for your university fees is going to come from? The first I heard of the attacks was yesterday, when I called to book a taxi and gave them our address. And if you’re trying to make a point about the amount of time I spend away from home, then you’re being very childish.’ Mum swung away and started unpacking the dishwasher.

Leo turned red.

‘I’m being childish? I don’t know why you’re acting like this is all a big—’

‘Leo!’ Merry shot her brother a warning glance. ‘Mum’s tired. Why don’t you give it a rest?’ She knew what he had been going to say: Why are you acting like this is a big surprise? But she wanted to see what her mother would admit to on her own. Whether she’d tell the truth.

‘What, Leo? A big what?’ Mum asked.

Leo glanced uncertainly at Merry.

‘A big … deal.’ Mum was still putting dishes back into the cupboards; Merry risked a tiny, encouraging nod. ‘I mean,’ Leo continued, ‘the people who were attacked, they probably knew whoever attacked them. We’re not likely to be in any danger. It’s going to be some kind of … gang warfare. Don’t you think?’

Merry rolled her eyes. Gang warfare? In Tillingham? Sometimes, Leo didn’t know when to stop.

But Mum didn’t seem to notice the incongruity.

‘Yes. Yes, I expect you’re right. It’s bound to be something like that.’

Merry couldn’t quite believe it.

Who are you trying to convince, Mum? Us, or yourself?

Her mother sighed.

‘I’m sorry I overreacted. I just – I have to keep you safe, that’s all. I want you both at home as much as possible until this is all sorted out. Especially you, Merry. And – the woods are completely off-limits from now on.’ She paused. ‘They’re lonely enough at the best of times. Understood?’

‘Sure, Mum.’ Leo nodded.

Merry said nothing.

Merry spent the next few days avoiding her mother and trying to not obsessively check the parchment from the trinket box. The Manuscript, Gran had called it; she claimed it would provide guidance, but obviously no one had ever actually seen it working. So far there was no writing visible. Gran told her to be patient, that the breakdown of the sleeping spell and the activation of the oath was a process. But the waiting, the uncertainty, was like the barrel of a gun in her back. Even a couple of drop-in sessions at the local fencing club – suddenly, improved sword skills felt like a potential necessity – didn’t help much. It was nearly two years since she’d last fought, and while she was there the mental discipline required cleared her mind. But the effect soon wore off, and her thoughts swung back into the same groove: endless worrying about what was going to happen next.

By Sunday of the next weekend the parchment was still blank. Merry spent the day in a flutter of suppressed excitement. She tried to ignore the whisper in the back of her mind – the hope – that somehow, Gran had got everything wrong. That the continuing attacks in Tillingham – another couple had been found, almost dead, just two days earlier – were really nothing to do with their family history. That the boy in her room had just been a coincidence, or a shared hallucination from the experimental vegetable stir-fry she’d made for dinner that evening. She tried to crush her growing optimism, but it was impossible.

On Sunday night she slept really well for the first time in ages: no visions or dreams, no strange noises, no fit but clearly dangerous boys barging into her bedroom. On Monday morning she hummed as she got ready for school, and began to at least contemplate making plans for the following weekend. There was a party on the Friday, then there was a new sci-fi film coming out she wanted to see. Ruby wouldn’t be interested, but Jamie, a guy from her history class who had a ridiculously cute smile, might go with her – he’d asked her on a date once, before. She grabbed her school bag. Below it was one edge of the trinket box, sticking out from under her bed.

Maybe I should take another look, just to prove to myself that nothing has changed.

She picked up the box, lifted the lid and took a peek at the parchment.

The box slipped out of her hands and thudded on to the floor.

Merry went to school. She didn’t know what else to do. But she felt like she was separated from everything going on around her by a thick sheet of bubble wrap: she could hear and see the students and teachers, but nothing they said to her made any sense. A low point came when she found she’d said yes to going on a date with Mark Taylor, a smug Year 13 muppet who didn’t seem to be able to take no for an answer. But even after Ruby had finally made her understand what had happened, she didn’t really care. None of it seemed important any more.

Leo picked her up as arranged. The smile slid off his face as she got into the passenger seat. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I looked in the box again this morning.’ Merry reached for it and realised her hands were shaking.

Leo leant over and pulled it out of her bag. ‘Key?’

‘Front pocket.’

He opened the box, took out the parchment and read it. ‘This is it then.’ He put his hands on the steering wheel, and Merry saw that his knuckles were white. ‘It’s started.’

They were in the kitchen. Mum wasn’t back from work yet. Merry was curled up on the old sofa, a crocheted patchwork blanket round her shoulders, holding the small glass of brandy Leo had poured for her. Leo was sitting at the big oak table, the parchment – manuscript – whatever it was, spread out in front of him.

‘So, this word—’ he tapped the manuscript.

Eala.

That was all it said. Four handwritten, angular letters, in dark brown ink.

Leo was looking at his laptop screen now.

‘The top listings for “Eala” are EA Los Angeles, whatever that is, East African Legislative Assembly, and the European Air Law Association. I somehow doubt any of those are relevant, but—’

‘It must be something in Anglo-Saxon.’ Merry took another sip of brandy, grimacing as the fumes hit the back of her throat.

‘Er, yeah. I was just about to say that.’ Leo tapped on the keyboard a bit more. ‘OK, here’s an Old English translator. I’ll just—’

Merry had a sudden vision: she was standing on a high peak, surrounded by the blackness of space, and if she took one more step forwards she would fall away from everything she had ever known –

‘Leo – wait!’

Leo paused, his fingers poised above the keys.

‘What? Why?’

‘Because – I – I need more time.’

Leo sat back in his chair, his arms crossed.

‘Merry … we don’t know how much time you – we – have. Nobody’s died yet, but,’ he sighed, ‘how long until things get even more dangerous? For you, I mean. Forget everyone else.’

‘I—’ Merry paused, trying to decide how to explain to Leo; what to tell him. ‘I’m just not ready for this. Like I said, I haven’t cast any spells for nearly a year, apart from accidently, and to just launch into something this big …’ She nodded at the manuscript. ‘We don’t know what’s going to happen, once we figure out how to work that thing. I need more training.’

‘No,’ Leo was shaking his head, ‘what you need is to start dealing with this. Now the manuscript’s … working, you don’t have any choice. Wizard Man and Psycho Boy aren’t going to conveniently take a break while you have remedial witchcraft lessons. You said you were at least going to try—’

‘I know what I said!’ Merry stood up and went to pour the rest of the brandy down the sink. Last night she’d really thought this was all going to turn out to be a mistake, that somehow she was going to be let off the hook. But now …