As he caught his mind going to bitter places, Hans stopped himself short. Outside, where the air was fresh and bracing, the red mist of his rage had begun to clear. Maybe he wasn’t being fair to his big sister.

  Gretel should have completed her Test last year, but she had waited for him, so they could do it together. She had waited for him because she knew – they all knew – that he would never pass it alone. He shouldn’t be angry with her for that. He should be thanking her.

  He sat down on a fallen log, feeling his behind grow cold and damp as the wet wood penetrated his trousers. He needed to calm down before he went home. He needed to find a way to apologise. To make Gretel understand that he was sorry. He had a temper, and she knew it. But maybe if he found the right words, she would believe him when he told her that he was glad she was his sister, and that he did love her.

  He rubbed his hands together to stave off the cold, and his stomach began to growl. His mam had been dishing out oxtail soup while he’d been arguing with Gretel. There would be thick crusty bread to go with it, and fresh, soft butter.

  He could smell food on the air now, but it wasn’t soup. It was something sweeter.

  Hans sniffed, looking around. One of the coven’s smaller cottages had a gorgeous smell drifting out through an open window. Unable to resist, Hans rose from the log, creeping around to the back of the house.

  He kept low to the ground, peeping through the window and into the kitchen. This was Niamh’s cottage, the woman who would be playing the part of the Hag tomorrow. He couldn’t really picture what she would look like in her glamour spell. Only a little older than his mother, Niamh was one of the prettiest women in the coven.

  He peered at her now, in her kitchen, a woman with lovely blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was stirring a cauldron over a flame, and drinking a glass of wine as she worked.

  ‘I see you, you know,’ she said lazily, her voice drifting through the open window and out into the evening air.

  Hans jolted, wondering what to do. Run. He should run. Run home, and deny everything.

  ‘Oh, no need to run off, young man,’ she said then, in that same languid voice. ‘You might as well come in.’ At her words, the back door sprung open, but Niamh herself did not move.

  With his hands in his pockets, Hans skulked through the open door and into the kitchen. ‘What’s that?’ He pointed to the cauldron. Whatever it was, it was the source of the sweet, delicious smell that had tempted him here.

  ‘You know what it is. It’s part of the spell for tomorrow. The same one we use every year, on every group of kids who take the Test.’

  ‘It’s for the gingerbread, isn’t it?’ he guessed. ‘It’ll make it irresistible.’

  Niamh shrugged and stopped stirring her potion. She took a seat at her small kitchen table and indicated that he should do the same. As he sat down across from her, she said, ‘That’s the idea, yes. But plenty of kids manage not to gorge themselves on the gingerbread and pass that part of the Test.’

  ‘And plenty don’t.’ His voice was shaking, and he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he felt afraid, either. But he did. Not just afraid – terrified.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Niamh said. ‘As long as one of you keeps their head about them, you’ll both pass. After all, you’ll have the fabulous Gretel with you, won’t you?’

  Hans flinched. She had said ‘the fabulous Gretel’ so bitterly. It reminded him of his own recent feelings, and not in a good way.

  ‘So no matter what happens,’ Niamh continued, ‘you’ll get to go on and train as a Rider, won’t you, Hansel? Even if you are as useless as everyone seems to think you are.’

  His eyes stung with tears. ‘My name is Hans, not Hansel. I’m nothing like that idiot in the Tall Tale. I’m not useless.’ He wished he could inject a bit more conviction into his words. The trouble was, he wasn’t sure he believed them. Maybe he was stupid. Maybe he was just as bad as the boy in the stories.

  ‘Oh, I know you’re not useless.’ She wiggled a finger, and a drink appeared in front of him. It was hot chocolate, smelling intense and inviting. ‘I know you have a lot of potential. But the others think you’re going to make a fool of yourself tomorrow, and if you run around the coven grounds looking so angry and upset, they’ll think you think too little of yourself, too. So drink up and pull yourself together, Hans, before you go home.’

  He slurped the hot chocolate. ‘This is nice, thank you. Wh-who thinks I’m useless? Are people really saying stuff like that?’

  She shifted a little, looking uncomfortable. ‘Oh dear. I shouldn’t have mentioned it, should I? Listen, never mind what everyone else in the coven thinks, Hans. So what if they’re all saying that you’ll be a disaster tomorrow, and that only Gretel will be able to save the day?’

  She gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘I’ve been there, Hans, with everyone thinking I was the useless sibling, so I do know how you feel. You and I, we’re kindred spirits. My older sister Patty was ever so perfect, you see. So powerful, and skilled. So good at everything she turned her hand to. Everyone knew she had defeated the monsters in the wood, that she had resisted the tasty walls of the Hag’s cottage, and that she had pushed the Hag into the oven and saved me.

  ‘And it really wasn’t fair, you know, because I was even younger than my sister than you are. But because pretty, perfect Patty had to take the Test by thirteen, my parents thought that I should do it at the same time, as per tradition. I was only ten, Hans. And I didn’t feel at all prepared. I felt like I was being set up to make a fool of myself. I knew that even though we’d both officially pass once Patty did, that everyone would always see her as the winner and me as the idiot she saved.’

  ‘I feel a bit like that,’ Hans admitted, his voice small as he looked down into his cup.

  ‘I’ll bet you do.’ She smiled at him. ‘Another drink?’

  When Hans began to drink his second cup of hot chocolate, he had the distinct sense that he shouldn’t be here. Because as Niamh carried on talking, he realised that she was nothing like the other adults he knew. She was telling him too much – about her hopes, her dreams, about how much she hated the Wood coven, about how she yearned to leave and become a professional potion maker. Adults shouldn’t speak that way with kids, should they? Something about it felt wrong.

  ‘I’ll bet you have big ambitions too, Hans,’ she said. ‘I’ll bet I’m right – kindred spirits like you and I, we always know what the other is thinking. And it’s a sign, you know, when two kindred spirits like us come together. It means that we’re supposed to help one another. To work together.’

  A part of him was baulking at her words, feeling itchy, feeling like running. But this time, if he ran, he wouldn’t deny a thing. He would tell his mother. He would tell her everything.

  He wasn’t sure what it was he would be telling her, because he still wasn’t sure what it was that was so wrong about this situation. But it was wrong. He knew it.

  And yet … he didn’t run.

  Hans stayed put, slurping away at his hot chocolate, while one part of his brain fought with another. After a time, he was beginning to really listen to Niamh. And the more he drank, the less he baulked, sinking into every word she spoke, and believing it all.

  By the end of his third hot chocolate, he knew: they were kindred spirits, just as she said.

  After Niamh had been speaking for a long time, she paused, her eyes glittering in the firelight as she smiled at him. ‘You know, I shouldn’t ask you this, Hans, but it’s just that in my opinion, you’re by far the most capable young man I’ve ever met. You’re probably the only one who can help me. And if you do, I can help you, too. Would you like to help me, Hans? Would you like to work with me, on making both of our lives much, much better?’

  ‘Yes,’ he told her breathlessly. ‘I’d like to. I’ll help you, Niamh. Just tell me what I have to do.’

  She stood up, stretching her arm to a shelf above her kitchen table, and pulling down a little lidded pot. From it, she removed a small leather pouch. There was some sort of symbol on it – a heart, with two bones criss-crossing it. It reminded him of the symbol he’d seen for poison, where it was a skull crossed with two bones. Hans shuddered at the sight.

  ‘Don’t be frightened,’ she said in a cajoling voice. ‘This isn’t something to fear, Hans. What’s in this pouch is our salvation. With this, you can be just as good – better, even – than your sister. I can help you achieve greatness, Hans. I can help all of your dreams come true. But most importantly, I can help you with tomorrow’s Test.’

  At the mention of the Test, his heart began to race. If there was any way he could do it and not look like a fool, he would grasp that chance.

  ‘All you have to do is sneak into your sister’s room, and put this beneath her mattress so she sleeps above it the whole night long,’ said Niamh. ‘Then, in the morning, retrieve it and bring it here to me.’

  He touched the little leather pouch. Whatever was inside felt like a hard powder and smelled of herbs, earth, and something else that he couldn’t identify. ‘What is this? It won’t hurt Gretel, will it?’

  ‘Of course not, Hans. Would I lie to you?’

  21. Marrow and Bone

  Hans was blinking back tears as he looked around the exam room. ‘I don’t know why I believed her. I should have known she couldn’t be trusted. I should have known. I … I will never forgive myself for it. For any of it.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said softly. ‘You were a kid, Hans. She added her favourite potion to your hot chocolate, no doubt, so that she could manipulate you. A Good Dose of Suggestion.’ I glanced at Gretel. ‘And I have to tell you, before you ask, Gretel – Hans hasn’t been hiding this from you for all of these years. The moment he delivered the pouch to Niamh the next morning, his memories of what he had done were locked off – by Niamh, no doubt. I took him to Pru Montague today, and she was able to unravel what’s been hidden in his mind.’

  Hans gave a twitching nod, then gazed at his sister. ‘It’s true, I’d forgotten the details. But I always knew something was wrong. I knew that every time you and I were close, you grew clumsy and forgetful. I should have searched for the answers sooner. But … I should get on with the story.’

  He looked around at us all. ‘We … we went through the Test, Gretel and me. And it was incredibly apparent that something was wrong, but I couldn’t figure out what. Gretel was better at everything than me, usually, but it was like … like our roles reversed, overnight. Suddenly, I was talented and clever and quick. I got us through the Test, not Gretel.’

  He balled his fists. ‘I managed to convince myself it was all my doing. For years, I told myself that Gretel had simply cracked under the pressure of the day. And I told myself that it affected her afterwards, affected her confidence, and that was why she lost all of her skill and coordination, and a lot of her power, too. Heck, she even became forgetful when before she had an eidetic memory. I think I always knew, deep down, that there was something more to it all. Especially when I got to eighteen and I shaved off my hair for a charity thing at college, and a friend noticed this just above the nape of my neck.’

  He lifted his hair. I had helped him to shave a small portion of it this afternoon, after his session with Pru. There, about halfway between the nape of his neck and the crown of his head, was what looked from a distance like a tattoo, but close-up you could see that the marking was deeply etched – a heart with two bones crossing it.

  ‘At that point, I should have made an effort to get to the bottom of it all,’ Hans acknowledged. ‘But I just made an excuse to my friend, covered it up with a hat, and then let my hair grow back. I didn’t know what it was then, and I don’t know what it is now – but I know it has something to do with why you’re growing weaker and clumsier Gretel. And for that, I can never apologise enough.’

  I approached Niamh, unhooking her chain from around her neck. ‘This is what led me to you, actually,’ I told her, as she remained frozen. ‘Such an insignificant little detail – the fact that you always wore a gold chain tucked in beneath your shirt. I saw it in the photo you took on the day of Gretel’s and Hans’s Test. You looked different then, of course. The Hag glamour. But I’ve also seen photos of you from back then without the glamour, and it seems as if you’ve made a few other changes over the years. Surgically rather than magically, I’m betting, leaving no trace behind.’

  I opened the locket which was attached to the chain. Inside was a pouch, with the same symbol as the one on Hans’s strange mark.

  Finn moved forward, opening a small glass box and revealing another pouch. It was exactly the same as the one worn by Niamh. ‘And we found this under your mattress, Gretel. But I don’t think it’s the one Hans planted all of those years ago, is it?’ He looked at Niamh. ‘He gave that one back to you, after all. This is a new one, isn’t it?’

  For a moment, Niamh didn’t respond. Perhaps she was weighing up her options. ‘Well, I’m hardly going to confirm or deny whether it is, am I?’ she said eventually. ‘Apparently you lot know absolutely everything, so why would I make my conviction any easier on you by telling you more?’

  ‘She doesn’t need to.’ Gretel’s mother approached. Pulling her daughter close, she said, ‘I’ve been upset and confused all day, by all that I’ve learned. But now that I’ve seen that symbol, I know exactly what Niamh has done to my children. She’s been repeating one of the worse mistakes our coven has ever made. She’s been using the Marrow and Bone spell. It’s evil, pure evil, what she’s done.’ Glaring at Niamh, Gretel’s mother began to shake with anger.

  ‘Here, Sinead.’ Addressing Gretel’s mother by her first name, Ronnie handed her a glass of liquid. ‘Nothing funny in it. It’ll just calm you down a little.’

  Gratefully, Sinead drank. Once she had finished, her voice was steady and strong.

  ‘A Marrow and Bone spell is one of our coven’s darker spells,’ she explained. ‘You all know the story of Hansel and Gretel by now. In our coven, we have our own story, a story of an event that we believe truly happened. We even have the evidence to back it up. The story goes that a young girl called Gretel, who went on to become one of the original Wayfarers, saved her brother from being eaten by a Hag who had terrorised Foundling Forrest for years. They had been abandoned there by their father’s new wife, because there wasn’t enough food to feed them all. After it transpired that the clever Gretel was using items like pebbles and breadcrumbs to find her way out of the forest and lead she and her brother back home, the stepmother came up with a horrible plan.’

  Gretel’s mother drew in some breath. ‘This is where our tale seems to diverge from some of the others. In our version, the stepmother made a deal with the Hag. Together, they enchanted the breadcrumbs, so that Hansel and Gretel would be led directly to the Hag’s cottage. There, the Hag would keep Gretel as a slave, while fattening up Hans to be eaten. But Gretel kept her wits about her, pushing the Hag into the oven and saving her brother.’

  Sinead loudly cleared her throat. ‘Others in the coven took the children in, and dealt with the stepmother, but … in order to do that, they made use of the Hag’s remains. I don’t need to tell you what sort of remains were swept and scraped out of the oven, but … we called it Marrow and Bone. And with it, our coven is said to have disempowered the stepmother, as punishment for her crimes. Certain other ingredients were added, but basically, the stepmother had to spend a night sleeping above the Bone. The next night, a drink containing the Marrow would be consumed by the stepmother, and as she did so, her power would be sucked into Bone.’

  ‘Why heart and bone, then?’ Finn questioned. ‘For the symbols on the pouch, I mean.’

  ‘Well, how do you represent marrow and bodily remains?’ Gretel’s mother said. ‘The elders couldn’t decide. So they chose the heart, to symbolise the heart of the witch – her magic, her essence. It was designed as a dire warning – to tell us to use these ingredients only when it’s necessary, because this is what they represent. Just as the skull and bones represent toxins, or plundering pirates, the punished witch would grow sicker, her power plundered as part of her disempowerment.’

  With another loud episode of throat-clearing, she continued. ‘And it was our coven’s main method of disempowerment for quite the while, I’m ashamed to say. I’m especially ashamed because our writings tell me that some of our elders began to use it for their own gain. If they spotted a powerful young witch, they would suddenly accuse the witch of crimes, all so that they could siphon the power for themselves.

  ‘While the punished person loses their power by drinking the Marrow, you see, the elders could then gain that power by drinking a mixture made with the Bone. And of course, it wasn’t a simple, all at once method. The power would eek away slowly, from the allegedly bad witch and into the elders. Every time they were close to her, they would draw more, without ever needing to repeat the spell. The punished witch wouldn’t just be without magic. She would lose far more than that. Skill, confidence, even some memories.

  ‘It was such a benefit for the elders, though, that it took a long time and a large revolution for the method to be stopped for good. There was a suspicion that one of the elders hid a supply of Marrow and Bone, and given what we’ve just heard, it seems that Niamh may have found the stash some years ago.’

  Niamh rolled her eyes. ‘Well, of course I did. Tell me, is this how these things always go? A long, drawn-out unfolding of the obvious? Of course I took some of the remains of the original Hag for myself. No one else in the coven was using it, so why shouldn’t I?’

  With a slight lift of her chin, she said, ‘I never felt like the Wood coven and I were a very good fit. All of that archery, horse-riding, fighting demons and monsters and Hags … it wasn’t really for me. And I hated where we lived. I wanted a city and decent amenities. Not a filthy forest and a bunch of do-gooders. All of our stories, they didn’t inspire me to hunt down bad witches and demons. They made me want to be a bad witch.’