Blood Of The Witch

Chapter One

Chapter OneThe early morning frost had melted, and the sun sat high in the sky; strong enough to pierce through the light cloud cover although there was still a chill in the air. It had rained the night before, so the benches were wet, but Jack and Kiera picked a seat outside anyway.

They sat in silence at first, sipping their coffees and enjoying the view. After the turbulence of their lives over the past month, the simple act of going out together for coffee was a balm to the soul.

Jack thought about Kitto as he looked out across the cliffs to the expanse of blue beyond. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady roar of the waves, until he felt Kiera’s hand on top of his.

“Kitto would’ve liked it here,” she said, as though she could read his mind.

Jack opened his eyes and nodded. Then he smiled. “Yes, but he’d have had a slice of cake with his coffee. That guy knew how to live.”

“Well, let’s not go too wild,” Kiera rolled her eyes, “not until we can figure out a source of income, anyway.”

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence. They couldn’t see the beach from their table, but they had already walked along it earlier that morning. Kiera had slipped off her shoes and dipped her toes in the icy water before hurriedly pulling her warm socks back on and they had wandered amongst the Bedruthan Steps, running their fingers along the jagged rocks.

Witches had been at Carnewas before. Kiera wasn’t sure who or when, and neither was she sure how she even knew this, but as she traced along the rough surface of the rocks, she knew it with a certainty. It was as if the rocks themselves told her.

“Do you know the story behind the Bedruthan Steps?” Jack asked.

Kiera shook her head and leaned in closer.

“It’s said that a giant called Bedruthan lived here,” Jack told her, “and he piled the rocks up on the beach to make himself stepping stones for when the tide was in.”

Kiera loved it when Jack spoke that way. He sounded like Kitto or Mags, or at least the Mags that Kiera had thought she knew, before she found out it was all a lie.

“The stacks have different names,” Jack continued, “but one is called Samaritan Island because a ship called the Good Samaritan was wrecked here…I think in the 1840s or something.”

“Do you think it’s true?” Kiera asked him.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “There was definitely a shipwreck.”

“No, I mean the stuff about the giant.” Kiera gave him a gentle shove, then she wrapped her hands around her mug to warm them.

“No, it’s just a story.”

“Wouldn’t you have once said tree-spirits were just stories?” Kiera pointed out. “Giants wouldn’t exactly be the craziest thing to happen to us.”

Jack thought for a moment and then shrugged. “I guess.”

After another short pause, Kiera cleared her throat. “So, what next? I mean, should we look for Bersaba? Do you want to try and find Kitto’s body?”

These were questions they needed to discuss, but it had never felt like the right time to talk to him about it. Where did they go from here? The last month had been hard on both of them. They had been left reeling by recent events; discovering Kiera’s mentor was not a sweet old lady called Mags but was in fact an ancient, powerful and unfortunately evil witch called Bersaba; coming face-to-face with the savage (and apparently not so extinct as previously assumed) Kasadow; and then losing Kitto had been to lose family. He was the man who had initiated Jack into the brotherhood of the Gwithiaz, taught Jack their ways and how to respect their ancient traditions.

Kitto taught him that, above all else, witches must be protected. And, just as importantly as the teachings, he had given Jack a home and a connection, which, to an orphan who had grown up in various foster homes, had been everything. She knew how painful it was for Jack to return to the cave and discover Kitto’s body was missing, although he’d been relieved to find his own staff where he’d left it. A staff was a part of a Gwithiaz; it was his main weapon and to be without it was like losing a limb.

As Kiera had predicted, there’d been no sign of Bersaba. Any idea that a few crumbling rocks could kill her was fanciful. She was out there somewhere. However, it seemed unnecessarily cruel for Bersaba to steal Kitto’s body, leaving them unable to bury him. It felt as though they’d been unable to say goodbye.

They’d moved quickly out of their house, even though they had nowhere to go. Jack had worn a heavy expression as he closed the door behind them; it had been his home for so long. He had stopped and taken one last look at the house before it disappeared from view. She was sure he was remembering the dilapidated old dump he’d first moved into, and the time he and Kitto had spent turning it into their home.

It was with grim determination that they’d set off with their belongings piled into the back of the Land Rover. They’d left the BMW behind, along with most of their other things; and yet that was why they were left behind, they were just 'things’ and they needed to travel light.

For almost two weeks they’d lived in the Land Rover. It had been cramped and uncomfortable. They’d bedded down, fully clothed against the cold, between stacks of books (they may have left behind most of their clothes and other creature comforts, but some belongings they couldn’t do without). Kiera knew that if she ever wanted to stand a chance of defeating Bersaba, she had to keep learning. And, with the knowledge that the Magic Council wanted Kiera dead and that somewhere out there looking for them was Bersaba, Jack had insisted he needed all his weapons, so between the books were his guns and knives. If they had been pulled over by the police, they would’ve wondered what on earth they were into, suspecting them of the heavily-armed robbery of a library.

They had lived in their car whilst searching for somewhere safe. The trouble was that nowhere was safe anymore. Bersaba’s reach felt endless and they would never be safe as long as she was alive. Add to that the possibility that the Magic Council were looking for them and it made for some sleepless nights.

At least they now had a roof over their heads. An abandoned building in a remote location was perfect for their situation and working on the house for the last two weeks had kept them busy.

Jack focused his gaze on a patch of grass on the clifftop as he thought about Kiera’s questions. These were the same questions he had been endlessly pondering.

“We both know what Bersaba is capable of,” he said at length. “She must be stopped.”

Kiera nodded in agreement but frowned when Jack added, “I’ll stop her.”

“You mean we will stop her.”

Jack looked away from her. “I think it’s best for you to stay hidden for now. It’s likely the Magic Council are after you and we don’t really know what we’re up against with them. Plus, you’re the one Bersaba wants. I should go after her alone.”

Kiera sat up straight and folded her arms. Jack was expecting a lengthy argument and had been preparing his responses. He thought she would be horrified, maybe she’d shout at him. Instead, she simply said two words: “Not happening.”

Jack ran his fingers through his hair before holding out his hand to Kiera. It was a moment before she grudgingly took it.

“This is important to me, Kiera.” His voice had a beseeching tone that she’d never heard before. He was pleading with her. He continued sheepishly, “You are important to me. I need you to be safe. Also… also this is what Kitto trained me for, what he would’ve wanted, he’d want me to keep you safe.”

Kiera’s expression softened and she leant forwards and kissed Jack’s hand. “I understand, Jack.”

For a split-second Jack thought she was relenting, but then she added, “It’s still not happening. We are in this together. This isn’t about you protecting me. We’re a team and we protect each other. I really need you to accept that.”

Jack released her hand and looked exasperated, but eventually he nodded. “Okay, we’ll do it together.”

Kiera smiled triumphantly, and they finished their coffee and began to walk back to the car.

“Promise?” she asked him tentatively as they walked. “Promise you won’t shut me out, or go off by yourself or anything?”

Jack put on an American accent. “Go, team!”

Kiera chuckled, slipping her arm through his. They reached the car and Jack grabbed her shoulder. She turned to him in surprise and saw that his expression was serious.

“I want to make Bersaba pay for what she did to Kitto and to my parents,” he said quietly.

The journey home wasn’t long. Home. For both of them, it was a strange word to use. They had a house but it wasn’t their home yet. Home was the place they’d been forced to flee. The new house wasn’t a home, but they were working on it.

Jack felt a part of him relax when they reached the moor. Being out in public was a risk, but surrounded by the vast landscape of Bodmin Moor Jack felt safer. On the moors he could see them coming.

When they first reached the moor two weeks ago, they’d known it was the ideal spot. They sometimes bumped into a few ramblers and tourists—although not too many in the cold winter months—but generally there was a desolate atmosphere that they could lose themselves in.

Jack had instantly fallen for the old, grey, stone farmhouse. It was a bit ramshackle and draughty, having stood empty for goodness knew how long, but it had plenty of space and it was remote. It suited them perfectly.

They approached the farmhouse slowly. Brown Willy, the highest point in all of Cornwall, loomed in the background. The winter sun was still shining, but a cold wind was sweeping its way across the moors, banging at the side of the car and giving a faint whistle at the windows.

As they reached the broken-down gateway that led on to the overgrown, stony drive, Kiera took a sharp intake of breath. Jack had already seen. The front door of the house was swinging wildly in the wind.

They had visitors.