The Witch’s Blood

Jack followed her gaze. ‘Kites,’ he murmured eventually. ‘Crows aren’t the only birds that eat the flesh of the dead.’

Merry looked away.

On the third night, they stopped near some ruins, the tumbled masonry and broken pillars hinting at a monumental past. After a quick meal, Jack lay down and went straight to sleep. Finn was sitting next to Merry, staring into the fire, his chin propped on one hand.

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘My family,’ Finn replied, not shifting his gaze from the flames. ‘Wondering how my dad’s going to take it, when he finds out that his only remaining son and heir is now a pleb.’

Guilt whispered in the back of Merry’s mind. ‘But he loves you, doesn’t he?’

‘Oh yes. He loves me,’ Finn replied softly.

‘Then … is he really going to care? Even if this turns out to be permanent, surely the most important thing will be that you’re back home again, and safe.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Finn was shaking his head. ‘My dad’s whole identity is bound up in his position, in magical society. Our family have been at the top of the pile for hundreds of years. If that ends on his watch, because of his sons, he’s going to feel like he’s failed. Like he’s let down every single generation since our house started. That’s why he—’ Finn broke off.

‘Why he what?’

‘Nothing.’ He winced and rubbed the centre of his chest.

‘Does it still hurt?’ Merry asked. ‘Where your magic used to be?’

‘It aches, the whole time. Kind of like … when you feel really starving hungry. But more painful. Makes me feel a bit sorry for Ronan.’

‘Seriously? But why?’

‘Because the magic he was born with didn’t last. So he has to steal magic from other people, but that never lasts, either. Don’t you think that he must feel like this the whole time?’

Merry frowned into the flames. Finn was probably right. And she did pity Ronan. Sort of. But when she thought about everything he’d done, all the people he’d hurt …

Some things just aren’t forgivable.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ Finn’s voice jerked her back to the present.

‘Sure.’

‘Are you still in love with Jack?’

‘What?’ Merry sat up straighter.

‘You heard me.’

‘Um …’ Was she still in love with him? ‘It’s complicated.’

‘Right.’ Finn’s tone was scornful.

‘But it is.’ Merry glanced at Jack’s sleeping form. ‘I did love him; I told you that. I loved him enough to free him from Gwydion’s curse by allowing him to die. And now he’s here, and as far as he’s concerned, none of what we went through together ever happened.’ She shivered, pulling her cloak more tightly about her. ‘This isn’t the Jack I knew. But he still looks more or less the same, and he still sounds the same and sometimes …’ The knots of tension in her stomach got worse. ‘I mean, how would you feel if Cillian came back to life, but he didn’t recognise you? If he looked at you like you were a stranger?’

Finn’s face sort of … shut down.

Merry wished she knew a spell to unsay what she’d just said.

‘You knew Jack for how long?’ Finn demanded. ‘A few weeks? A few months at most. And you’re comparing his death to me losing my brother?’

‘Honestly, I didn’t mean to—’

Finn threw up a hand, silencing her. ‘Just don’t, Merry. Don’t say any more. I need some sleep.’ He lay down, facing away from her, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.

Merry stared at his back, willing him to turn round.

‘Finn?’

He didn’t answer.

‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. But grief … it isn’t rational or – or – measurable. And Jack’s not the only person I’ve lost.’ Finn still hadn’t moved, or given any sign that he’d heard her. A gust of cold wind stung her eyes. She got to her feet and went to find some more firewood.

Just after dawn, Jack shook her awake. Finn was standing next to Blossom, waiting for her to mount, but he didn’t speak to her. They rode for what felt like hours through another forest before he finally leant forward to whisper to her, his lips brushing her ear.

‘I didn’t mean that my grief was somehow worth more than yours. I just … I miss my brother. That’s all.’

‘Of course. It’s OK.’

‘No, it isn’t. I came here to help you, Merry, to try to make up for what I did at the Black Lake. You mean a lot to me. But you don’t owe me anything. And I have no right to be jealous of Jack. Jealous of the feelings you had for him. Or have for him.’

‘I don’t have any feelings for him, so there’s no reason for you to be jealous. That was what I was trying to explain yesterday. Very badly.’ Merry gazed at Jack, riding a few metres in front of her. ‘Seeing him alive has brought back the memories of the person I loved. But I can’t be in a relationship with a ghost. If we survive this mess, you’re the one I want to bring home to meet my mother, so to speak.’ She twisted round so she could look at Finn. ‘You. Not Jack.’

For a moment, Finn stared at her, his grey eyes wide. Then he slid one hand round her waist, pulled her against him and kissed the back of her neck gently. ‘Thank God. I thought I was going to have to challenge Jack to a duel.’ He laughed softly. ‘And I’m not one hundred per cent certain that I’d win.’

Merry smiled and rested her head back against Finn’s shoulder. They rode on for a while in a comfortable silence.

Jack, still a little way ahead of them, seemed to be getting slower and slower. He kept turning his head, scanning the woodland on either side of the path, riding with one hand on the hilt of his sword.

‘Jack,’ Merry called, ‘is anything wrong?’

‘I do not like this forest.’

Merry looked around. To her, the forest seemed like most of the other woods they’d been through since she arrived here. Damp – chilly – the trees crammed so closely together that, even in their leafless winter state, there was hardly any light filtering down to the track they were following. The still air, heavy with dust, reminded her of something. The forgotten corner of a museum, or an abandoned church. A crypt. She shivered and rubbed her hands together.

Jack slowed his horse until he was riding next to them. ‘I know I haven’t been here before. Yet somehow, if I close my eyes, I remember riding this path, a group of mail-clad knights around me, until we were attacked …’

A long, low growl coming from the trees off to the left made the hair on the back of Merry’s neck stand up. Both horses snorted nervously.

‘What was that?’ Finn was craning his neck, peering into the undergrowth.

‘A wolf.’ Jack drew his sword. ‘Can you ride faster? We must escape this wood before it is too late.’

‘It’s already too late.’ Merry pointed ahead. Not just one wolf, but many – too many for her to count – were stalking through the trees towards them. The animals were advancing purposefully, evenly spread out, almost in ranks. The horses were terrified. Jack still had Sorrel under control – just – but Blossom seemed to be trying to back away and sideways at the same time, tossing his head and rolling his eyes. Finn was leaning forward, gripping the reins and swearing but it didn’t seem to be helping. ‘Let me down,’ Merry insisted.

‘Are you crazy? You can’t – dammit –’

She didn’t waste time in arguing. Squishing her right leg up in front of her and cursing her long skirts, she twisted and slid underneath Finn’s arms and off the horse.

The wolves were only a few metres away now, almost encircling them. Merry realised a shielding spell wouldn’t be enough. She would have to drive them off.

Clenching her hands into fists, she began to sing. A stinging hex, basically. But Merry added more. She wove into the hex the words of a spell to control lightning, keeping the power coiled within her fingertips until the pain of it almost took her breath away.

As if responding to a signal, the wolves attacked.

Merry threw up her hands, releasing the spell. Behind her she could hear the horses screaming and Jack and Finn yelling, but she ignored them, concentrating on the magic coursing through her outstretched arms. She had to spin and duck, aiming the spell, making sure it hit every wolf hard, hard enough that the animal was no longer a threat.

And it was working. The wolves were howling, writhing on the forest floor. Some of them managed to escape, limping away as fast as they could, melting back into the shadows. More of them didn’t. Merry kept going, out of breath, murmuring the spell now rather than singing it. But almost all the wolves had fled or collapsed and she was nearly done, nearly—

‘Merry!’

She swung round to see a huge blond wolf leaping at her, brought up her hands—

Jack’s sword flew past her head and buried itself in the wolf’s chest. The animal crashed to the ground.

Merry let the spell fade and lowered her arms, breathing heavily, grimacing: the air stank of burnt fur.

‘Are you hurt?’ Jack, still leading Sorrel, wrenched the sword out of the dead wolf. He had bloody claw marks along one arm. ‘Merry?’

‘No. Just tired.’ She flexed her aching fingers and looked around. ‘Where’s Finn?’

‘Blossom bolted. I’ll find him.’ He jumped on to Sorrel’s back and rode into the forest.

Left alone, Merry crossed her arms and looked around her at the ring of dead wolves. The snow was stained with blood. When Ronan had killed a wolf back in the woods near Tillingham, she’d buried it – covered it with a mound of roses. But there were no roses here. And far too many bodies …

But what else could I have done?

One of the bodies was twitching; she moved closer to investigate. This wolf was alive. It gasped for air, trying feebly to get back up on its feet. And then Merry saw one of its paws, and froze.

It was a human foot. The top part of the wolf’s leg was as it should be, but the bottom half of the leg, and the foot … Merry clapped one hand to her mouth. The wolf whined again, scrabbling at the ground with its front paws.

I could try to help it – him – but …

Revulsion and fear and exhaustion coalesced into something hard, sitting in the centre of Merry’s chest. Whatever Ronan had been doing here, whatever he was still doing, nothing and no one was going to stand between her and her brother. She didn’t have time for pity.

Raising one hand, Merry murmured one line of the spell she’d been singing. The wolf collapsed. It didn’t move again.

‘Merry!’ Jack was returning through the trees. And next to him was Finn, still on Blossom’s back. He was covered in tiny scratches, but otherwise seemed unharmed. When he got closer, in answer to Merry’s raised eyebrows, he shrugged and said:

‘Brambles. Lots of them. But at least they stopped the damn horse before he threw me in the river.’ His eyes widened as he took in the pile of dead animals. ‘Bloody hell. You OK, Merry?’

‘Yes. I’m fine.’ Merry went to her bag, found the pot of Gran’s ointment and tossed it to Jack. ‘Put some of that on your arm. We need to keep going.’ She got the manuscript out from the pouch on her belt and checked the instructions. ‘Nothing’s changed. We just keep heading through the forest.’

‘Actually, I think we’re nearly at the end,’ Finn said, as he pulled her up on to the horse. ‘The land slopes downwards further on, and I could just see the trees start to thin out …’

‘Then let’s get out of here.’

They rode fast now, not speaking other than to urge the horses to a quicker pace. Finally, after another couple of hours, Merry could see what she’d been straining her eyes for: a cottage, tucked into the edge of the forest, a wisp of smoke rising from the roof. And then the details came into view: a thatched roof, shutters over the windows, a stream winding past the front of the building.

Finn drew the horse to a halt.

‘Why have we stopped?’

He pointed. There, coming through the trees from the left, were three young women. One tall and blonde, one black-haired and pale, one with vivid green eyes. Merry recognised them from the dreams and visions she’d been having for the last six months: Carys, Nia and Meredith. Carys and Meredith appeared much as Merry remembered, but Nia, the middle sister … she looked terrible. Gaunt and sickly.

The sisters became aware of the newcomers. Meredith ran towards Jack as he dismounted. ‘Jack, I thought I might never see you again …’

They knew each other?

Before Merry could react, Nia had wandered over to them. She stared up at Finn. ‘You do not belong here.’

‘Well,’ Finn slid down from Blossom’s back. ‘We’re not exactly from around here …’

But Nia wasn’t listening. She was gazing at Merry, and the curiosity on her face gave way to horror. She stumbled backwards. ‘No! Why have you come back out of my dreams? That path was never followed.’ Shaking her head, she raised her hands as if to cast a spell. ‘You cannot exist! You cannot—’

Finn caught her as she collapsed.

ARYS CAST A suspicious look at Merry before turning to Jack. ‘Quickly, take her inside.’

Jack lifted Nia out of Finn’s arms and hurried into the cottage with Meredith and Carys. Merry left Finn to deal with the horses and followed them. The interior of the witches’ home was almost exactly as Merry remembered seeing it in the dreams she’d had earlier in the year. One large room open to the roof, with a central hearth and three shuttered windows. Sweet-smelling rushes spread across the floor. At the far end, a door into a smaller room, all in shadow – a bedroom of some sort, Merry assumed. A tripod, with a flat metal plate dangling beneath it, was set over the fire, while a chair, a bench and a couple of wooden stools were drawn up nearby. Jack carried Nia into the smaller room; after grabbing a couple of storage jars from a shelf, Carys followed them.

Merry turned to Meredith. ‘I’m sorry I startled her.’

Before Meredith could respond, Jack returned. Merry couldn’t help herself: ‘So you do know each other? But when I mentioned Meredith to you, you didn’t say anything …’

Jack and Meredith looked at each other. Merry’s throat tightened.

Luckily, Finn came in at that moment and asked Jack the question that Merry wanted to ask. ‘Does this mean you could have brought us straight here? That we’ve wasted all this time?’

‘No,’ Meredith replied. ‘He’s never been here. I would not allow him to know where we lived, for his protection and our own.’

Jack nodded. ‘She’s speaking the truth. And when you and I first met in the forest, I did not know you. I owe Meredith a blood-debt too; surely you would not have had me betray her?’ He took one of Meredith’s hands in his and kissed it.

Merry turned away, avoiding Finn’s gaze, concealing her confusion by taking off her cloak and folding it up. ‘I suppose not.’ She had known that her Jack had been in love with Meredith, and that Meredith had loved him back. The fact that he was in love with her in this reality too really shouldn’t have come as a shock. ‘You saved his life?’

‘They all did,’ Jack answered. ‘She and Carys and Nia. They came to our village, just before it was destroyed by Ronan. Told us we were in danger.’ He glanced at Meredith, and Merry saw the warmth in his eyes blaze again. ‘Told me who I really was. Many more would have died without their help.’

‘We did what we could.’ Meredith crossed her arms. ‘So, Jack I know. But who are you?’

‘This is Finn, and I’m Merry. I’m a witch too.’ On impulse, she added, ‘Merry is short for Meredith.’

The other witch’s frown deepened.

Merry pressed on. ‘We thought you might be able to help us find Ronan. Or that you might even know where he is. Because I’m sure he has my brother confined somewhere. I saw him sitting at a table, but the spell didn’t reveal where.’

‘That’s why you think he’s alive?’ Meredith sat down, gesturing that the others should sit too. ‘Are you certain? Too often magic will show us merely what we wish to see.’

‘No. I’d know if Leo was dead. I’d—’ The enormity of what she was saying, of even using the word ‘dead’ in the same sentence as her brother’s name … it crushed the breath out of her. Finn reached across and let his hand rest lightly on her back. His touch steadied her. ‘He’s alive. You’ll just have to take my word for it.’

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