The Witch’s Kiss Trilogy. Katharine Corr

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      Merry must have been unconscious for all of about thirty seconds. But it was a really intense thirty seconds.

      Something had come out of the trinket box. Not a physical something; more a sudden swell of energy, running like electricity up her arms and into her chest. Then everything had gone dark.

      And out of the darkness came images. A pair of large oak doors set into the middle of a stone wall that seemed to reach up to the sky and beyond. An endless, winding corridor dimly lit with candles. A chair – no, a throne of some sort – near to a wall lined with shelves, shelves crammed with hundreds of faintly glowing glass jars. And a boy chained to the throne, a blood-red crown upon his head. It was the boy from her nightmares. Merry could hear him struggling for breath, and she thought for a moment he was unconscious. But his eyes focused, and she saw his lips move:

      ‘Help me …’

      Merry opened her eyes.

      Leo was kneeling over her, his face white and tense.

      ‘Merry? Are you OK?’

      ‘Yeah. I think so. Help me sit up.’

      Leo put one arm underneath Merry’s back and slowly pushed her upright.

      ‘Here, lean against this.’ He pulled an old beanbag over and put it behind her. ‘What happened?’

      ‘I’m not sure. I – I saw things.’ She shuddered. ‘I saw him again.’

      ‘Him?’

      ‘The guy from my nightmares. But he wasn’t … killing people, this time. He was chained up somewhere – like, in some old, medieval castle.’

      ‘Jesus, Merry. What the hell’s going on?’

      Merry breathed out slowly.

      ‘No idea. Where’s the box?’

      ‘You dropped it.’ Leo gestured towards where the box had fallen, lying on its side on the floor. At least it wasn’t moving any more.

      ‘Pass it over.’

      ‘Are you sure? I mean, after what just happened? Shouldn’t I be taking you to the hospital or something?’

      ‘I’m fine, Leo. Just give it to me.’

      For once, Leo didn’t argue; he picked up the trinket box and handed it to her. There was no trace of the ‘energy’ she’d felt earlier.

      The box was quite small, its diameter less than the length of her hand. There was an intricate, fluid design carved on to the lid, interlocking figures of eight curling along each of the seven edges, punctuated at every corner with a triangular knot that looked vaguely Celtic. In the centre of the lid was a circle with a crescent etched over the top of it: the Moon. Merry tried to prise the lid open with her nails, but the box was locked. Absentmindedly, she traced a finger over the design. She’d seen that pattern before.

      ‘Let’s go back downstairs. I’ve think I’ve got the key that will open this.’

      While Leo went to make some tea, Merry returned to her room and started rummaging in drawers and boxes. Eventually she found it: the charm bracelet Gran had given her for her twelfth birthday.

      ‘What’ve you got there?’ Leo put the tea down and knelt on the floor next to her.

      She held the bracelet up to him by one of the charms: a small silver key.

      ‘It’s got the same design on it, see?’ Picking up the trinket box, she pushed the key into the keyhole. The lock turned with a faint click. Merry lifted the lid carefully and peeked inside. ‘Curiouser and curiouser. Look.’

      She tipped the contents of the box out on to her duvet: a faded fragment of stiff paper, what looked like a short braid of human hair, and the hilt of a sword. Probably a hilt. It didn’t look like it belonged to the type of swords she’d used at fencing club a couple of years back, and it wasn’t big and shiny like the swords in fantasy films. The short grip was wound about with worn strips of leather, the guard was a narrow block of dark-coloured metal, the pommel was gold, set with red stones. And the whole thing looked old. Very old.

      ‘This is so bizarre. That looks like it should be in a museum. And what on earth is this for?’ asked Leo, picking up the braid of hair and examining it. ‘What does it all mean?’

      Merry sighed. ‘Unfortunately, I think it means that we need to go see Gran.’

      Leo groaned. ‘What, now?’

      ‘Course not.’ Merry locked the three objects back in the box. They couldn’t be that important, whatever they were, or they would never have just been left up in the attic. ‘I’ll call her tomorrow. Maybe I can pop over there after school.’ She glanced up at Leo, who was holding a half-eaten biscuit in his hand. His face had gone slightly green. ‘We’d better get some sleep.’

      Merry just about managed to drag herself out of bed a couple of hours later. The bus journey took forever – the Tillingbourne river, swollen by two weeks of almost constant rain, was in flood for the first time anyone could remember – but at least first period was indoor netball. The match went well: she scored four goals and chatted to Verity from her history class whenever the action moved out of their third. The trinket box was entirely forgotten. But she shouldn’t have hung around in the changing rooms after everyone else had left. Immersed in noting down the new timetable for the after-school javelin and track club, she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Esther Perkins: a minor bully / major irritant since primary school.

      ‘Hello, Meredith.’ Esther smirked. ‘Haven’t seen you around for a while.’

      Merry shrugged. ‘It’s a big school.’ She moved to go past, but Esther moved too.

      ‘Really? I thought maybe it was ’cos of Alex. Bet you think you’re a real hero, pulling him out of the river. Bet you think you’re too good to hang round with the rest of us now.’

      Merry СКАЧАТЬ