The Witch’s Kiss Trilogy

Leo knocked on her door.

‘Where’s the box?’

‘Under the bed.’ The key and the box were now both at least twice as big as they had been, and Merry had taken to wearing the key on a chain round her neck. She handed the chain to her brother; Leo retrieved the box and unlocked it.

‘You want to take all of this?’

‘May as well. Just in case.’

‘OK. So … let’s put the instruction book in this pocket.’ Leo lifted Merry’s arm and shoved the parchment into a large side pocket. ‘And the sword hilt, which would probably be much more useful if it had an actual blade attached to it, can go in this pocket.’ He lifted Merry’s other arm. ‘And finally the hair extension can go …’ He paused, then tied the braid of hair around Merry’s left wrist. ‘There. All set. You can put your arms down now.’

‘Great. Have you got a torch?’

‘Yep. Torches, a flask of coffee, and some chocolate bars.’

Merry hesitated. ‘OK. But I think you should bring the big carving knife from the kitchen too.’

Leo raised his eyebrows.

Merry shrugged. ‘Like I said – just in case.’ She glanced around her room one last time. ‘Let’s go.’

It didn’t take long to get to the Black Lake. There was a tiny gravelled parking area with a faded information board, but compared to the other open spaces nearby, the woods here were dense and sombre; the area never seemed to attract many visitors. Merry was surprised to see a silver saloon parked by the path into the trees.

‘Great start,’ Leo muttered, switching on his torch. ‘Let’s hope whoever it is goes home soon.’

Hoods up against the rain, they were walking past the car when a figure got out and stepped into the torchlight.

‘Merry? It’s me, Mrs Galantini. Your grandmother, she sent a message.’

Mrs Galantini, owner of the Italian deli on the high street, her accent still strong after forty years living in English suburbs. And also, apparently, a witch.

‘Er … hi, Mrs Galantini. Terrible weather, isn’t it?’

Great, I’m talking about the weather. I’m only sixteen and I’m already turning into my mother.

Mrs Galantini shrugged. ‘It’s England. It rains. Now, you are not to worry. I make sure nobody else gets through here. Your grandmother and others are in the woods, casting shielding spells.’ Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at Leo.

‘Leo’s just here to – keep an eye on me. He’s not going to get involved.’

Mrs Galantini made a dismissive sound – the sort of sound that clearly meant ‘Men – what’s the use of them, really?’ – and turned back to Merry. ‘Good luck, brava ragazza. I pray for you.’

That, Merry reflected as Mrs Galantini climbed back into the warmth of her car, was not very comforting.

They plodded along the path through the dripping trees, following the signposts to the lake. Eventually the trees gave way to open heathland, and the lake lay before them.

‘It’s bigger than I remember,’ Leo said eventually.

Merry shivered. The lake stretched away from them, its farthest shore lost in the darkness. The near shore was flat, apart from one section where the land rose into a hill. A cliff, really; it dropped away sharply into the water. The restless surface of the lake, rippled by raindrops, mirrored her own disquiet. She turned to Leo.

‘I think you should wait here, at least until we’ve got more of a handle on what’s going on. The King of Hearts – Jack, or whatever – is only interested in attacking couples. We don’t want him to find out too late that he’s made a mistake.’

Leo pulled a face, but he nodded. ‘Alright. Here: you should take the supplies.’ He pushed the backpack into her arms and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘I’ll just be hanging around in the bushes then. Lurking. And watching.’

‘Thanks. Feel free to intervene if it looks like I’m about to get murdered.’

Walking away from Leo and from the shelter of the trees was so difficult. Merry forced herself to keep going, until she was about six metres from the lake edge. She put a plastic bin liner on the sodden ground, pulled her hood as far as it would go over her face, and sat down to wait.

The first hour went slowly. The rain stopped. A couple of times Merry nearly fell asleep, catching herself as her head nodded forwards. She read her Twitter feed. She drank some coffee and watched the moon rise higher and higher above the treetops, washing the landscape silver. Around ten, fingers numb from the cold, she pulled the manuscript out of her pocket.

‘Hey, manuscript. So, where is the King of Hearts?’

Still beneath the waters of the lake.

‘Still under the lake? I wish he’d get a move on.’

The manuscript didn’t comment. Merry’s wrist itched, and she remembered the braid Leo had tied there: her entry ticket to Gwydion’s realm.

‘How does the braid of hair work?’

The braid provides protection.

Vague, but good to have confirmation.

‘Is it our ancestor’s hair? Did she put the protection in place?’

No. The protection was devised by Gwydion.

Gwydion? That couldn’t be right. Her phone beeped: Leo checking in. Pushing the manuscript back into her pocket, she picked up the phone to text him back.

This is weird. The

She stopped and looked up at the lake, straining her eyes to see into the darkness.

There was nothing there. The gently shifting surface of the water glimmered silently in the cold air. Yet Merry could feel goose pimples rising on the skin between her shoulder blades, despite the warm clothes she was wearing. She pulled the zip on the coat up higher, bent over her phone again. But it was no good. Dread grew like a lengthening shadow in her mind.

Something was coming.

The breeze sprang up again, tumbling last year’s dead leaves across the ground and blowing Merry’s hood back from her face. She stood and hastily stuffed the bin liner into the backpack before it blew away.

I should definitely get further away from this damn lake.

But she couldn’t move. Her limbs felt as though the blood pumping through her veins had been replaced with lead. And she could not tear her gaze away from the lake.

The wind strengthened, ruffling the water into waves. As she watched, a disturbance grew at the edge of the lake: the wind seemed almost to be forcing the water into a spiral, carving out a depression in the lake’s surface.

The water started to spin, faster and faster, filling the air with flying spray, forcing Merry to fling her arms over her face until –

– until Jack leapt gracefully on to the shore, the vortex behind him collapsing instantly back into the lake.

The wind whipped Jack’s hair away from his face. His cloak billowed out, and Merry saw a sword belt slung low around his hips, the jewelled surface catching and reflecting the moonlight. For a moment he stood, scanning the landscape in front of him. Then he turned away from Merry and began walking in the direction of the town.

Merry gasped as whatever had been pinning her in place – terror, or magic – vanished.

‘Damn—’

She dropped her phone and fumbled for the parchment. There was a new line of writing, an instruction.

The monster is intent on sin. Name his name to draw him in.

There was a single sentence underneath:

Ætstand, heortena cyning

Was she supposed to translate it? Right now?

‘Seriously?’ Merry yelled at the manuscript. But Jack was getting further away. Merry swore again, and ran after him. ‘Hey, you! Jack!’

There was no response.

‘OK. Um … eye-t-stenday … sinning – or maybe kinning, – hay-or-tan …’

Jack stopped walking, turned around and stared at her.

‘Er …’

He started moving towards her. Merry backed away, holding one hand out in front of her, fingers spread wide. There was a shielding spell she’d learnt ages ago – had used successfully a couple of times – but as she chanted the words under her breath, over and over, nothing seemed to be happening –

Oh, God – where’s an insane burst of magic when I need it?

She heard Leo screaming at her to run, but that would mean turning her back on Jack, not knowing whether he was about to catch her. Better to keep walking backwards, faster and faster, hoping not to stumble, not to fall.

Jack grinned, and drew his sword. The blade was snapped off about a third of the way down. The broken edge was jagged and uneven.

But probably still sharp enough to kill me.

Merry had always thought of herself as strong. Tough, even, given all her sporting activities. But the shock of the King of Hearts’ appearance, of the brutality and bloodlust written so clearly across his beautiful face, made her feel weak and exposed, like she might just shatter at his slightest touch –

‘Leo – help!’

Leo was pounding towards her across the grass, but he was going to be too late, she knew he was going to be too late –

The ground dipped, twisting her ankle, throwing her sprawling on to the grass.

Jack stood above her, silhouetted against the stars.

He raised the blade above his head –

He wasn’t going to make it.

Leo was already running when he saw Jack stop, turn around and focus on Merry. He’d sped up when Jack started walking towards her – had screamed at her to run, with every spare bit of breath he had. But instead she’d tripped over, and Jack was only metres away from her, and she was throwing up her arm for protection, but Jack was running at her now with a sword in his hand and Leo was going to be too late, he was too late –

In Leo’s memory, what happened next was almost in slow motion.

Jack brought the blade down, aiming for Merry’s upflung arm. But it didn’t connect.

Instead, Jack flew backwards, as if he’d run into some solid barrier. He flew backwards through the air and landed on his side some distance away.

And then the world sped up again and Leo was on his knees next to Merry, trying to check for blood and hug her at the same time.

‘Are you OK? What happened – what did you do?’

‘I don’t know – I—’ she stopped and pointed. Leo noticed her hand was shaking. Then he spotted Jack; Jack, pushing himself back to his feet, lunging for his sword. He looked at Leo and snarled.

‘Oh, no …’

Leo dragged Merry upright and got in front of her.

‘Run!’

But Merry didn’t run. Instead, she was fumbling with the manuscript.

‘Merry – get away from here! Now!’

Jack raised his sword again and Leo realised the blade was broken. But it still looked sharp. He pulled the kitchen knife out of his belt – wondered whether he would be able to buy his sister enough time to escape –

‘Ga to reste, đu eart werig, ga to reste …’

Merry’s voice was faint and wobbly and she stumbled over the words, but that didn’t seem to matter. As she finished speaking Jack’s eyes rolled back in his head, the broken sword slipped from his fingers, and he fell inert upon the grass.

I’m still alive. I’m alive, and he’s – he’s –

‘Is he dead? Leo?’

‘Um, hold on—’ Holding the kitchen knife out in front of him, Leo inched forwards until he could touch Jack’s neck. ‘No. Not dead. But he’s out cold.’

‘Oh, thank God …’ Merry collapsed, wincing and clutching at her ankle. Leo sank down next to her and covered his face with his hands. For a few minutes neither of them spoke.

‘That … that was not what I expected. I thought he was going to – to—’ Leo gave up. Merry didn’t blame him – there were really no words for what had just happened.

Leo loosened the scarf around her neck.

‘You’re hyperventilating: try to calm down. I don’t want you passing out.’

‘OK.’ She took a few slow, deep breaths. ‘Tell me what happened. When I fell over, and he was about to—’

Leo frowned.

‘You cast a spell on him, didn’t you? He just sort of … bounced off.’

‘I tried to cast one. It didn’t work.’

‘Well, it must have worked eventually; looks like it just kicked in a bit late.’ Leo picked up the manuscript from where she had dropped it and shone his torch on the page of writing. ‘Nothing here about what we’re meant to do next. D’you reckon we should have a go at—’ He coughed and tried again. ‘Should we try killing him?’

‘We can’t. Remember what it said earlier?’

Leo flicked back a page.

While the puppet hearts exist, Gwydion and his King of Hearts are both immortal.

‘Well – just ask it anyway. It would be better to get it over and done with.’

Merry sighed, but she took the manuscript from Leo’s hands.

‘Manuscript, can we kill the King of Hearts now?’

The answer materialised in front of their eyes.

No. While the puppet hearts exist, neither the wizard nor the servant can die.

‘See?’

‘So what’s the plan? Just hang around until Jack wakes up and has another go at stabbing us?’

‘I don’t know, Leo. I have no idea what the plan is. OK?’

Leo muttered something under his breath, but Merry decided to ignore it. He was probably feeling exactly as she was: that if she had to just sit here, with nothing to do but contemplate this terrifying, insane situation, she might just lose it. They were sitting some distance from the lake now, but the sound of the dark water lapping at the shore was still clear. She got up and stamped some feeling back into her feet.

‘I’m going to check out the lake. I won’t be long.’

Leo nodded, so Merry jogged away from him towards the water. The night had become cloudy again and the lake was almost indistinguishable in the darkness; just a smudge of dark grey against the black of the sky. When she reached the water’s edge she shone her torch down into it, probed it with a dead branch lying nearby, but she couldn’t see or feel the bottom of the lake. There were no handy steps she could use to get underneath the lake and collect the puppet hearts, either. And there was no sign of any hiding place. It was completely impossible that Jack should have sprung out of the freezing water dressed in those heavy clothes and completely dry. But then, he was an Anglo-Saxon prince who had been asleep for the last millennium and a half. It was kind of ridiculous to expect him to obey the laws of physics.

Merry made her way back to Leo and sat down again. Her brother had obviously found the backpack: he was pouring coffee, and handed her a cup.

‘Thanks. Has he moved?’

‘Uh-uh.’ Leo shook his head. Merry picked up the manuscript.

‘Can you tell us what to do now?’

There was no response.

Well, this is great.

Leo stood up.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m going to chuck it in the lake.’

‘Chuck what in the lake?’

‘That.’ He directed the beam of his torch on to the hilt of the broken sword, still lying where Jack had dropped it. ‘If he wants it back, he can swim for it.’

‘No, that’s not a good—’ Merry began, but Leo ignored her. She shook her head and followed him.

The blade of the sword was of some dark metal, its broken edge corroded away, but the hilt was similar to the hilt they had found in the trinket box. It had the same type of gold filigree work around the pommel and guard. Leo leant down, brushed his fingers across the gilded surface –

‘Ow – damn it!’ He snatched his fingers back. The tips were blistered. ‘It’s red-hot. I don’t understand.’

Merry knelt down closer to the sword, frowning. She stretched out her hand –

‘Merry,’ Leo whispered, ‘look—’

Merry shone the torch in the direction he was pointing.

Jack was awake.

Ten minutes had passed. They knew that because Leo had looked at his watch. A mistake, it turned out: Jack brought his knife up again when he saw the watch light up on Leo’s wrist.

‘You lie: you are a wizard!’

It would almost have been funny. If they hadn’t been standing in the dark, frozen and exhausted. And if the knife Jack carried – he’d made no move to pick up the broken sword – hadn’t been considerably longer and more dangerous-looking than Leo’s kitchen knife. At least Jack, rather than the dark creature that had attacked them earlier, seemed to be back in charge of his body. For now anyway.

Merry groaned and rubbed her sore eyes.

‘Look, Jack, please try to understand. I know you think you know me, but the first time I met you was the other night, in my bedroom. My name’s Merry. And this is Leo – he’s not a wizard. He doesn’t know how to use magic, not even a little bit. The torch, and the lantern, and the watch – it’s all electricity …’

Jack kept his knife pointing firmly at Leo, but he turned towards Merry.

‘I would have the truth. I remember you, from before, I am sure of it. Why do you deny it?’

‘I just – I don’t know what to tell you …’

Jack lowered the knife.

‘I remember you, and I remember that I am bound somehow to the evil wizard Gwydion, through the curse that taints my blood. I remember my name, and your face – but that is all I remember. Do you understand?’ The pain in Jack’s voice caught in Merry’s guts like thorns. ‘I know nothing of my life, or who I am, or why I am in this place. Why will you not help me?’

Without thinking, Merry moved closer to Jack. Leo grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

Jack hesitated, then pushed his knife back into his belt.

‘Have you brought this wizard here to kill me?’

‘Jack—’

‘Very well. I will not oppose him.’

He sat down with his back to them.

And that was it, for the next half-hour. Leo asking questions that Jack wouldn’t answer, Merry trying to get the manuscript to tell them what the hell they were supposed to do next.

‘How long have we got until you turn evil again?’ Leo demanded. ‘Can you at least tell us that?’

Jack ignored him.

‘Oh, for—’ He turned to Merry and jabbed a finger at the manuscript. ‘Are you sure that thing doesn’t say anything about killing him?’

‘Leo …’ Merry made a shushing motion. ‘There are things we need to know, Jack. It’s important. We have to stop the wizard. We have to get under the lake, to wherever it is you came from. And you know about this … curse, that takes you over …’

Jack turned his head slightly towards them. ‘I feel it, even now: it struggles to regain mastery. But what it desires, or what I have done while under its command …’ He shook his head. ‘I cannot remember. Though I fear – I fear I am damned.’

Merry winced. The idea of telling Jack that he’d been forced to cut people’s hearts out was deeply unappealing.

Jack shifted position so he was facing them again, and stared at Merry, his brows drawn together. For a few moments she met his gaze, hoping to somehow get through to him. But he was studying her so intensely that eventually she had to look away.

‘I am completely alone, am I not?’ Jack asked. He sounded exhausted. ‘There was someone … but whoever she was, she has left me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Merry replied. ‘She must have. It’s been such a long time.’

Jack’s eyes widened and he gasped, a spasm of pain crossing his face. ‘The monster returns—’ Jack dug his nails into the earth, as if he were trying to stop himself getting up. ‘You must … fly …’

Leo scrambled to his feet.

‘What do we do?’

Merry seized the manuscript in both hands. ‘Help us! The – the King of Hearts, he’s come back—’

Jack was back over by the broken sword; he seized the hilt – no sign of pain – swung the blade out in a wide arc and stalked back towards them. Leo jumped in front of Merry.

‘Well?’ he asked over his shoulder.

‘Hold on—’

‘Merry!’

‘OK, got it: “Awende on – on sinnihte, scea – sceadugenga.”’

As though a switch had been flipped, Jack’s face went from rage-filled to completely blank, all trace of personality wiped away. He shoved the sword back into the sheath hanging at his waist and started walking back towards the lake. Through the darkness Merry heard the ripple of water, gradually getting louder: the vortex, rising up out of the lake to receive the King of Hearts back again.

A fierce gust ripped the clouds away from the Moon. Merry squinted, raised her hand to shield her eyes from the wind – but when she looked towards the lake, Jack had disappeared. It was over.

For now.

Mrs Galantini had gone by the time Leo and Merry had walked back to the parking area. Gran was waiting there instead, but once she’d checked that they were both in one piece (and given Leo some ointment for his hand) she didn’t delay them, just told Merry to get some sleep and that she’d call her the next day. In the car, Leo drove too fast and talked too much; he knew he was in shock. Clearly, some part of his brain had decided that if he kept moving, then maybe, somehow, the stuff that had happened at the lake wouldn’t catch up with him. Maybe wouldn’t have even happened at all. Every so often he glanced over at Merry, waiting for her reaction: tears, or shaking, or uncontrollable hysteria. Something tangible. But she just sat there, staring out of the windscreen, her face almost as blank as Jack’s had been just before he turned away from them.

They got back home just after midnight, that was one mercy: just early enough for Mum to accept Leo’s story that he had won the pool competition, left the pub at 11.30 and picked Merry up from Ruby’s on the way back. Merry still seemed completely calm. Leo followed her upstairs and stopped her just before she went into her room.

‘Merry – are you sure you’re OK?’

‘Yes. I’m fine. ’Night Leo.’

‘G’night then. Give me a shout if—’

But she had already shut the door behind her.

Merry stretched under the duvet, wiggling her toes and gently flexing her sore ankle, trying to relax into the warmth and softness of the bed. Her wrist was itchy; she ran a finger under the braid of hair, loosening it a little. The manuscript and the sword hilt were locked back inside the trinket box, but the braid … Whatever Leo said, Merry knew it hadn’t been her own magic that sent the King of Hearts flying when he ran at her. That had failed her, again.

Still, she was alive, and so was Leo. Both of them had survived their first encounter with the King of Hearts. That should make her happy, right? Or something – surely, she should be feeling something, after what they’d just been through. But no amount of probing, rerunning the evening’s events over and over in her head, produced any response. She’d been anaesthetised. Or had left her capacity to feel somewhere back there in the darkness, at the edge of the Black Lake.

Alex told me once I had a lump of ice for a heart. Maybe now it’s true …

The next few days were the same. Leo kept watching her, as if she were a suspicious package that might suddenly start to tick. The manuscript summoned them three more times to the lake, but Merry gave Jack no opportunity to attack them. As soon as he emerged from the water, she read out the words that knocked him unconscious and returned him to himself. When the curse regained control, she said the words that sent him back to the water. Inbetween, she and Leo tried to get information out of Jack or searched for ways to get under the lake. Merry went back there one morning on her own, hoping daylight would reveal something they had missed, but so far no secret entrance had materialised. At least their presence at the lake meant that no one in Tillingham was being attacked, or bleeding to death; the atmosphere in town eased a little. But the manuscript didn’t give Merry any idea what was to come next, or for how many nights she was going to have to keep sneaking out of the house in the dark. Gran, and Ruby (although she didn’t know it), were both helping keep Merry’s activities secret from Mum, but it wasn’t easy. Worse, her magic still wasn’t cooperating. There hadn’t been any more dramatic outbursts, but the few basic spells that Gran had asked her to try – healing cuts and grazes, making a sleeping potion, creating a globe of witch fire – none of them had worked at all.