The Witch's Blood by Katharine Corr

Author:Katharine Corr [Corr, Katharine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-01-12T05:00:00+00:00

ERRY DIDN’T SLEEP that night.

Instead, she read. She went through every wisdom book and knowledge book she had, looking for stories about the points of intersection, seeing if any spells already existed that would give her a clue as to how she might use her power to stop what was happening.

When she wasn’t reading, she paced. Up and down across the same stretch of carpet, as the hours wore away.

Was Denise right about everything being her fault? Merry had killed Gwydion, but she hadn’t destroyed the King of Hearts, and she hadn’t been able to stop Ronan freeing it from beneath the lake. And she’d gone twice through the point of intersection without using the proper spells.

At least she’d killed Ronan in the end.

Hadn’t she?

He couldn’t have survived in the ruins of the hall, with all that black holly. He couldn’t have.

She spotted her favourite silver bracelet sitting accusingly on the dressing table; it was the one she’d used in the hydromancy spell back in Meredith’s cottage when she’d tried to see Ronan, and nothing had shown up.

He can’t have survived. It’s not possible.

Merry glanced at the clock: it was nearly five. She crept across the landing into her brother’s room. He was asleep, lying on his back with the covers half kicked off. His face was peaceful enough – still, undreaming – but as for the marks on his chest … Whatever Cormac had given him didn’t seem to be working. Not yet, anyway. The blisters were joining up, getting darker and uglier. A police car went by somewhere in the distance, siren blaring; Leo stirred and peered up at her.

‘Merry?’

‘It’s OK. It’s early still. Go back to sleep.’

He closed his eyes again. Merry stood there a moment more, debating, before hurrying back to her room to get dressed.

Five minutes later, she materialised in the woods near where the body of the jogger had been found.

Above the trees, the sky had lightened from black to grey, but the darkness within the forest was still impenetrable. Merry conjured a ball of witch fire and set off towards the Black Lake. When she emerged into the open space round the water, it was obvious that something was very wrong.

The lake was still there. But looking at it head on was like looking at one of those fairground mirrors: everything was distorted, blurry and bulging in some patches, distinct but distant in others. And the whole thing was in motion, so that bits of the lake were fading in and out of focus. The brokenness of the gateway made visible jarred her nerve endings like nails scraped down a chalkboard.

Merry took a deep breath, deliberately letting the tension out of her body. She’d done lots of magic over the last six months: there had to be some spell that she’d used or read about that would give her a way to seal the intersection once and for all. Closing her eyes against the distracting vision in front of her, she began running through various types of incantation.

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