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.
‘Look, I appreciate your help, but this really isn’t any of your concern. I need to find out who did this to my brother. And when I do I’m going to bloody kill them. I’m going to – to—’ The ceiling lights flared brighter as pain lanced from her fingertips up the length of her arms. The phone slipped from her hands on to the rug. ‘Damn it!’
The stranger was watching her, eyebrows raised.
‘Sorry. I’m going to get some brandy.’ Racing into the kitchen, Merry grabbed a cushion off the sofa and squeezed it as hard as she could between her hands.
I have to get a grip. I have to take care of Leo. Everything else can wait.
Gradually, the ache in her fingers faded. But when she let go of the cushion it was covered in burn marks: five on each side. Merry stuffed it into one of the kitchen cupboards, found the brandy and poured some into a glass. She returned to the living room just in time to hear Leo groan.
‘Oh, Leo …’ Thrusting the glass into the hands of the stranger she leant over her brother, pushing his matted blond hair back from his forehead, blinking away tears as she studied the mess that had been made of his face. ‘I can’t believe someone would do this to you.’ Leo looked up at her with his one good eye, questioning. Merry understood what he meant: he wanted her to heal him. ‘I’ll try my best, OK? But it’s not my strong point.’ She glanced at the stranger, feeling some explanation was due. ‘I, er … I did a first-aid course recently.’
The stranger nodded his acknowledgement and held up the brandy glass.
‘Is he to drink this?’
‘Yes. Please.’
‘OK. I’m Ronan, by the way.’
‘Merry. Back in a sec.’
In the kitchen, she pulled the old first-aid kit out from under the sink. It had bandages and plasters in it, not much else. But at least it would provide camouflage for the real medical supplies. In the cupboard above the fridge Mum kept various potions and salves made by Gran. One in case of poisoning, one for burns (the same lotion Merry had managed to explode the other day), one for cuts. Merry grabbed the latter – and a small glass vial of green liquid, labelled ‘For Rest’ – and put them into the first-aid kit. Then she found a clean cloth, ran some hot water into a bowl and carried the whole lot back into the living room.
Ronan was sitting on the edge of the sofa, watching Leo. He stood up as Merry came into the room.
‘He drank a little. What else can I do? Or would you rather I just got out of your way?’
Merry hesitated. It was inconvenient having a complete stranger in their house, now of all times. But, on the other hand, if he had information about who had done this to her brother …
‘Maybe you could make some tea?’ Merry nodded her head towards the hall. ‘The kitchen’s that way.’ She waited until Ronan had left before turning back to Leo.
She started by washing the blood off his face and hands, trying to be gentle. But some of the wounds were still oozing. Leo flinched as she touched him, and Merry had to bite her lip to stop the tears that threatened to blind her vision. As well as a black eye, Leo’s mouth and nose had been bleeding, and he had ugly grazes across one cheekbone and over his knuckles. Removing the bloodstained shirt revealed bruises already discolouring his abdomen and ribs. She spread some of Gran’s lotion on the cuts.
‘That stings,’ Leo murmured.
‘Sorry. It’ll wear off soon.’
On top of each blob of lotion she taped a gauze pad; the grazes would heal and fade as the ointment sank into them, but she couldn’t let Ronan see that happening. Then she turned her attention to Leo’s black eye.
It made her stomach churn. The skin had been battered into a pulpy, discoloured mess, while the tiny slit of eyeball still visible was red with blood. There was a spell to deal with this kind of injury, but she’d never managed to get it to work properly. Gritting her teeth, she began to dab the lotion over the damaged skin. Leo moaned with pain and knocked her hand away.
Merry frowned, peering at his eye. Where she’d applied the lotion, the skin was reforming – but not in the right way. It was all puckered and lumpy. She swore and put the lid