Blood Of The Witch

Chapter Three

Chapter ThreeThe lid on the stone sarcophagus in front of Stephen shifted. It only moved an inch, but it was loud in the cold, dark, underground room. Then silence fell again until Stephen wondered if he’d imagined the movement. After all, he had been sitting there for hours; without a watch there was no way to know what time it was, but he guessed that twelve hours at least had passed since the ritual had taken place.

Eventually, the rock moved again. Stephen jumped to his feet and began to push at the lid. Harriet joined him and the heavy rock slowly slid across, before crashing to the floor. The sound of the crash echoed around the chamber. Stephen and Harriet stood side by side with bated breath as a man rose from the tomb. When the man was seated upright, he stared at them with cold, hard eyes, and, for the first time, Stephen felt a pinprick of fear. He nodded at Harriet and she resumed her position at the neighbouring sarcophagus, a tremble to her movements that was only detectable to someone who knew her, someone who was trying to conceal his own trembling, although whether it was excitement or fear Stephen couldn’t be sure.

The man was alive, but his eyes were dead. Stephen had never seen eyes like them. They held no colour, no warmth, no feeling at all as they stared unblinkingly at him. Stephen used the term 'man’ loosely because he knew the being in front of him was very different to himself, endowed with immortality and skills no normal man possessed. His appearance meant he would always stand out in a crowd, with a gaunt face, skin stretched tight over his bones, and the spots of fresh witch’s blood round his mouth that were emphasised by his drastically pale skin, which seemed so white as to almost glow in the dark, underground room. His fair hair was covered in dust.

Gripped between his long fingers was his special sword, a curved blade glinting faintly in the dark room. He had been buried with it five hundred years earlier.

Stephen cleared his throat. “Hedrek?” The eldest brother had woken first.

“Kevrinek Hus?” The man’s voice was husky as he spoke for the first time in five hundred years.

It was an expression Stephen knew the meaning of but had never heard used before. It used to be a common expression for the Magic Council in Cornwall many years ago- directly translated from the Cornish it meant secret or mysterious magic. It was fitting. His job was all about keeping secrets.

“I’m the leader of the Magic Council,” Stephen confirmed. “You and your brother have been asleep for a long time. There is much to tell you.”

“I’ll kill you,” Hedrek hissed. His eyes had not moved from Stephen’s face and, despite the cold, Stephen felt his brow dampen with sweat. He tried not to think of the things he knew about the man in front of him, what he was capable of and the evil deeds he had done.

Stephen tried to regain his composure and nodded gravely. “You can do. However, it wasn’t I who put you in that tomb. I was not the one who put you to sleep, but I am the one who has woken you. You can kill me in some misplaced sense of revenge or… or, with my help, you can kill a witch.”

For the first time, the dark eyes seemed to soften slightly, as a flicker of something that could have been excitement or longing passed fleetingly across Hedrek’s features. He ran his tongue around his mouth and tasted some of the witch’s blood that was sitting there, blood the Council had fed him in the ritual from their limited stock.

Movement sounded from the other sarcophagus and they both glanced across. Caden was awakening.

“Where is the witch?” Hedrek growled and Stephen smiled.

Kiera opened her eyes and lay still, letting them adjust to the darkness in the room. It was almost morning and she would rise with the sun to meditate. Her arm rested on top of the duvet and she quickly pulled the cover up and snuggled into Jack. They had worked wonders in the last couple of weeks, trying to turn the ramshackle old farmhouse into a home, but the heating was beyond their capabilities. And hiring a plumber to work on a house they were technically squatting in seemed too risky, as well as costly.

Jack stirred and she felt his arms tighten around her waist. She sighed with a contentment that she hadn’t felt for a while. Kitto was back and asleep in the room next door. She was happy for Jack because she knew of the bond that the two men shared. Kitto was the father Jack had grown up without and she knew what it was like to lose a father.

She turned her head into Jack’s neck and went to kiss him, but then quickly turned away. It seemed strange that they shared a bed every night but had not yet been intimate with each other. They’d spent the first two weeks cramped into the back of the Land Rover, while the last two weeks together had, at times, felt a little awkward. She felt a desire for Jack in a way that surprised and frightened her, a totally new experience. She had never been in love before. She knew their future was together, and yet, it didn’t feel right to take the next step with so much going on in their lives. They had been mourning Kitto and they had been working hard at turning the house into a home. She nestled her head into Jack’s shoulder instead and thought about the story Kitto had told them the previous day.

He had awoken alone in the cave next to the body of the Kasadow. Bersaba was nowhere to be seen. He was concerned when he saw Jack’s staff on the floor and had left to search for them. However, by the time he arrived back at the house they were gone, and four weeks and several failed tracing spells were used trying to track them down.

The whole thing was so puzzling. It wasn’t the first time Kitto had come back from the dead so perhaps they should be less surprised. The question that troubled her was what if it was Bersaba who had brought him back?

As far as she was aware, only a spell with Grim Seed could bring someone back from the dead and she knew the effect that Grim Seed had on souls, although, with the evil deeds she’d done, Bersaba’s soul was surely already lost. Bersaba was certainly powerful enough to perform a resurrection spell. But why would she? It would only be for a dark purpose; not out of any sense of loyalty or love because Bersaba was incapable of those feelings.

She frowned. Her sense of contentment was fading fast. It was frustrating not knowing where Bersaba was and what she was plotting. She wanted to continue to simply bask in the miracle of having Kitto returned to them, but it was hard not to worry.

She raised her head from the pillow and looked to the window. The sun would be rising soon. She resisted the temptation to remain wrapped in Jack’s arms, and forced herself out of bed. Her teeth began to chatter as she hurriedly pulled some clothes over her pyjamas.

Her morning and evening meditations had become vital to her over the last month and she wouldn’t dream of missing one. She needed to be at her best if she wanted to stand a chance of defeating Bersaba, who had hundreds of years of experience and was a master at her craft. Kiera had a lot of catching up to do.

In those moments at sunrise and sunset she could feel her magic growing. She was getting stronger. The lamp flicked on and Jack was dressing himself beside her. They didn’t speak until they were clothed in several layers and ready to head downstairs.

“Morning,” Kiera whispered and moved into his arms, resting her head against his chest.

“Morning.” Jack stroked her hair gently.

“I can’t believe Kitto is back,” she said, smiling.

“Yes, but did you… did you think there was something different about him?”

Kiera looked up. “Like what? I didn’t notice anything different about him, but I have been worrying about how he was brought back to life.”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe I’m imagining it. I just thought…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, and they broke away from each other and headed downstairs. They found that Kitto was already up and pottering about in the kitchen.

Kiera hugged him tightly and closed her eyes. It was Kitto. With her eyes closed she could sense him, feel his presence and his energy. This was definitely the Kitto she knew and loved. And yet there was something else, too. She sensed something he was hiding from her, or was it just her imagination? Perhaps she was feeling that way simply because of her own concerns. Was something different about Kitto?