Nature of the Witch

Chapter Three

Chapter Three“So, about that ambulance…” Jack said, clapping his hands together, “why don't you have a seat and I'll give them a call?”

The man shook his head, “I told you no ambulance.”

Worth a try. I'll have to distract him and call when he's not looking. He watched the man wander round the flat and wished he'd tidied up a bit instead of doing paperwork. However, it seemed to meet the man's approval as he turned to Jack and said, “I like that you live simply.”

Jack wasn't sure if that was a compliment but he chose to take it as one, “Thanks.”

He guessed he did live pretty simply. There were no photos up, mostly because he didn't have anyone that he wanted to look at on his walls every day. And he never got sentimental about possessions so had no qualms about chucking things out, which meant he never had to worry about clutter. He also wasn't particularly interested in technology, never had been. He had no computer games; as far as he was concerned they killed brain cells. He only used his computer for work. He'd rather read a book or make his ornaments.

“Tea?” Jack asked, ushering the man into the sitting room.

“Don't mind if I do,” the man sat back in Jack's armchair, “and now that I've got your attention we need to talk.”

“Got my attention?” Jack repeated. “Talk about what?”

“You don't really think that I couldn't handle a bunch of kids do you?” The man chuckled. “Well of course I could, but I needed us to meet.”

Jack stared at him, “Of course you could. You're saying you deliberately got your arse kicked so you could meet me?”

“That's right. First tea, then we'll talk.”

Jack opened his mouth to say something but the man waved a hand at him, “Tea, then we'll talk.”

Jack sighed and forced a smile before leaving the room.

“Right away sir,” he mumbled.

He flicked the kettle on and then crept back into the hallway and picked up his phone. Time to call the crazy, old man a doctor, and in his opinion it was a head doctor that was needed but he'd call an ambulance and let them worry about that.

He'd pressed the first button when a voice from behind him made him jump, “Kitto.”

Jack spun round guiltily, holding the phone behind his back, “Sorry?”

“Kitto,” the man repeated, “I never introduced myself. My name is Kitto.”

“Oh, right. My name's Jack,” there was an awkward silence for a moment before Jack added, “unusual name.”

“Cornish,” the man replied, smiling pleasantly. There was another silence before the man said, “How's the tea coming along?”

Jack managed to place the phone back on the table behind him, “Yep, I'm doing it. Why don't you sit yourself down?”

As Kitto made his way back to the living room Jack returned to the kitchen and carried on with the tea. After a moment he thought he'd try calling the ambulance again, but as he poked his head out of the kitchen door, Kitto was waiting by the living room, “Need a hand bringing it in?”

“All under control,” Jack disappeared back into the kitchen, cursing under his breath, and picked up the tea. He carried it through and took a seat. He watched warily as Kitto sipped his drink. He wondered whether he was some homeless guy who was trying to scam a bed for the night; he had that look about him. It wasn't just his hair that had that slightly wild, not-often-brushed appearance; his straggly beard also needed some attention. His clothes looked too big for him and needed an iron.

“Now for our talk,” Kitto placed his cup on the coffee table.

“Yes our talk,” said Jack uncomfortably.

Just smile and nod, he told himself.

“What I have to tell you may be hard for you to believe,” Kitto spoke slowly, “at first anyway. Do you have any opinions on the matter of witchcraft?”

“Opinions about witchcraft?” Jack tried to suppress a smile. “I haven't really thought about it.”

“No, why would you?” Kitto laughed. “Up until now it hasn't affected your life, but I'm afraid it's going to. It's not only going to affect your life, it's going to become your life. You see, I need to tell you that witchcraft exists and that, in the past, some people were chosen to live the life of a witch.”

Jack did as he had planned and smiled and nodded, “I see. And am I one?”

Kitto pulled a face, “No! Are you crazy? Witches are women.”

The irony of Kitto calling him crazy wasn't lost on him.

“Isn't that sexist?” Jack couldn't help but ask mischievously.

“Possibly,” Kitto conceded giving the matter some serious thought, “but you see, it's nature that chooses the witch and, as the name implies, Mother Nature is a woman.”

“Ah, so she's biased then,” Jack said.

“I think we're getting off track. However, I would add that a male witch wouldn't be called a witch, he would be a warlock. It's not completely impossible for one to exist and yet I have never heard of one. Okay? Can we move on?”

“Okay,” Jack grinned, “so I'm not a witch…I mean warlock so what do you want to talk to me about?”

“I want to talk about your destiny,” Kitto picked his tea back up and took another sip. He paused before saying, “You are chosen to be part of the Gwithiaz.”

“Gwithiaz?” Jack repeated. “What is that, welsh?”

“Cornish,” Kitto replied, “the history of the Gwithiaz lies in Cornwall. It's where we were born. The term means guardians.”

Jack nodded slowly whilst his mind tried desperately to think of a means of getting this nutter out of his flat, “Look, I have work tomorrow…”

“Just listen to my story,” Kitto said softly, and he leant back and told Jack about the witches, about the Daughters of the Earth and the Gwithiaz and the terrifying Creatures.

Jack couldn't help but listen enthralled until the end of the story. When he'd finished, Kitto said, “It all died away around two hundred years ago. But we are heading into new and exciting times. Once more we will begin the time of the witch.”

A silence fell upon the room and Jack caught himself momentarily mulling over what Kitto had told him. Then he shook his head dismissively.

He folded his arms and decided there was no harm in humouring the old guy, “That's a nice story but I have a couple of questions.”

“It's not a story,” Kitto said intensely, “it's history, and a history that very few people are privileged enough to hear about. Now, of course you have questions, fire away.”

“Are you Gwithiaz?”

“I am.”

“Where's the witch you're supposed to protect?”

Kitto's expression changed, his eyes dropped to the floor as he said sadly, “Dead.”

“Bang up job there then,”Jack muttered.

“She died many years ago,” Kitto told him, “as did I.”

“I don't follow.”

“Now my job is not to protect witches. My time passed but I have been brought back and given a new role…to train you.”

“Back? From the dead? Like Jesus?” Jack rolled his eyes. “Okay, well, question number two.”

Kitto nodded and waited.

“If the Kasadow, or Creatures or whatever you call them are dead, what do you need me for? Seems to me I'd be a little redundant, I've got nothing to protect them against.”

“We don't question our orders. It's true that the Creatures are all long gone but we are heading into unprecedented times. The world hasn't seen true witchcraft for centuries and we cannot know what dangers may lay ahead.”

“Third and final question,” Jack leant forward and paused before he spoke again, “why would I?”

“Why would you what?” Kitto asked confused.

“Why would I devote my life to helping out some chick?”

“Chick?” Kitto looked puzzled. “You've misunderstood me, witches are human, not a type of poultry.”

“I mean why would I care? Let's pretend that everything you say is true…”

“It is,” Kitto interrupted.

“Let's say it is,” Jack continued, “I don't know any witches. Why would I, or anyone for that matter, want to spend their entire life babysitting some woman? Why would I be willing to die for her? I don't even know her.”

Kitto pondered for a moment, “A fair enough question. All I can say is that you have been chosen for this life so I need you to trust me. One day you will just know, like I did. It'll be like a calling and your one purpose in life will be to protect. You see, this has been mapped out for you for many years. Your destiny was chosen before you were born. Members of the brotherhood of the Gwithiaz are created out of love and…”

“Well, there we go then,” Jack waved a hand, “you've got the wrong man. That's not a concept I'm familiar with.”

He couldn't believe he was arguing with this man about joining a secret brotherhood that protected witches.

“Love?” Kitto watched him for a moment. “Actually you've had a great deal of love in your life, you just don't remember it.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, “I have no family and, as of a couple of days ago, no girlfriend. I've never been in love, and don't have what you could call 'close' friends so if you're looking for someone born out of love perhaps you should try the guy next door. It's definitely not me.”

“What about your mother?” Kitto asked him softly. “She loved you before she died.”

Jack sat in stunned silence. Okay, it was time for this guy to leave. He'd tried to be nice but this was going too far.

“How did you know she was dead?” he asked.

Kitto gave a long sigh, “A mother's love is one of the purest loves you will ever find. Your mother made the ultimate sacrifice; she died trying to protect you. You most certainly are born out of love, never doubt it. Besides, you have all the traits of Gwithiaz; strength and courage, determination and above all a good heart.”

Jack's hands tightened around his chair, he took a deep breath, “You're mistaken, you see, my parents were killed in a car accident.”

“A car yes, an accident no. Don't you remember? You were there.”

Jack shook his head. He closed his eyes for a moment to control the anger that had started to bubble in his chest.

Mustn't lose control. Who does this guy think he is? Crazy or not you shouldn't just walk in to a person's home and make up stories about their dead parents.

“Does it worry you?” Kitto asked. “That rage you have inside of you? It's just waiting to erupt and take control. I can teach you to master it, to use it as a weapon against your enemies, so that you are controlling it and not it controlling you. Where do you think it stems from? You're a Gwithiaz who up to now has had no purpose. You're a warrior, it's in your blood but you've bottled the warrior up inside, so it's no wonder he escapes every so often. You've kept your hands busy with wood where it should've been weapons. Let him out and become the man you're supposed to be.”

Jack was silent. He took a couple of deep breaths before forcing himself to say calmly, “I don't know how you know these things about me but I'd like you to leave.”

To his surprise Kitto didn't argue but instead rose to his feet, as though he had been expecting it, “I'm going to leave you my card,” he paused at the door and turned back, “I want you to remember your mother and when you do, you'll know where to find me.”

Jack didn't reply. He sat very still as he listened to Kitto leave the flat. Then to his own surprise a tear slid down his cheek. It was the first time he had cried since…since he couldn't even recall. Stupid old man, didn't he know how hard he'd tried to remember her? It wasn't going to happen now just because a mad Cornishman had told him to. She had always been like a word on the tip of his tongue that he was so close to, and yet couldn't quite bring to mind. He had tried to remember but the fact was she was gone, and so was his dad, so what was the point? All the remembering in the world wouldn't bring them back.