Chapter 12: Witches

Seeking feedback on my work-in-process cozy fantasy novel, Jack and the Beanstalk Cafe.

Jack

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Jack pushed away from Gillian and whirled around toward the sound, his heart beating erratically in his chest. Then, somehow, Gillian was standing in front of him, a defensive arm held out behind her.

He searched the darkness, seeing only shadows, until a bony, gnarled hand grasping a wooden cane appeared in the white beam of moonlight streaming in from the windows.

“Who’s there?” Jack called out.

“Jackie boy.” The creaky voice came from the shadows behind the disembodied hand.

Jack wasn’t sure he heard it right. It sounded to him like the voice called him Jackie.

The cane lifted off the ground a few inches before screeching onto the stone floor again. It pulled the hand forward, bringing along a hunched old woman draped in a heavy dark cloak.

Bright green eyes pierced through the darkness and met his own narrowed gaze.

Gillian let out a hiss, her body stiffening.

She spoke in a strange monotone voice. “You do not see anyone. You will continue on your way and not return here until dawn.”

Before Jack could ask what she was doing, the old woman let out a raspy cackle, the deep lines on her face morphing into something almost grotesque.

“My, what interesting company you keep, boy.”

Gillian sucked in a breath and took a step back. Jack grasped her hand, pulling him to his side.

“Sorry, do we know you?” he asked with the polite tone he reserved for the elderly. Jack wasn’t sure what had gotten into Gillian but she didn’t need to be rude to a harmless old woman. He was sure he could talk their way out of this predicament.

“No, I don’t suppose you do,” she said, and Jack noticed a slight lilt to her scratchy voice. “But I know you. Oh, I know you very well, Jack Kyteler.”

Now it was his turn to freeze. He was certain he’d never met this woman before, but there was no doubt she knew his name.

“How do you know who I am?” His heart was now pounding in overdrive and Gillian squeezed his hand to the point of pain.

The woman smiled, a gummy almost toothless grin.

“Jack, I have known of you since before you were born. I have watched over you. I have watched over your father before you, and his father before him, and so on and so forth. For twenty five generations I have watched over my line,” the crone said, growing more impassioned as she went on, her voice growing stronger.

“For twenty five generations I have kept you safe. Kept the world safe. Only for you to come here with that.” Her voice dripped with disgust and she turned a glare on Gillian.

Ah, so the woman was experiencing a mental health condition. Poor dear.

“That’s a grand story,” Jack said soothingly, taking a step forward. Gillian kept a firm grip on his hand and didn’t let him move any farther. “Where did you come from, love? Maybe we can help you find your way back home.”

“Don’t you condescend to me, boy,” the woman sneered, her eyes darting down to Gillian and Jack’s clasped hands. “I am nine hundred years your senior. Why don’t you ask your little friend there how old she is?”

Jack’s eyebrows pulled together and he looked over to Gillian, expecting to see her looking just as incredulous. Instead, she seemed to have grown paler than he’d ever seen her– than he’d ever seen anyone– her eyes locked on the old woman.

“Who are you?” Gillian whispered.

“I am your worst nightmare, dearie. I am Alice Kyteler and I am going to say it one last time. Get your filthy hands off my grandson.”

And with that, the woman rushed forward with surprising speed. She held out her palm toward Gillian, and blew against it.

A shimmering powder flew out of her hand into a cloud surrounding Gillian and Jack.

Jack flinched back and his nose tickled when the slightly metallic scent hit him. But beside him, Gillian convulsed. She released Jack and brought her hand to her face, frantically rubbing the powder out of her eyes while her other hand reached up to grasp her throat.

Jack turned, his eyes wide as Gillian fell to her knees. He crouched down beside her and rested a hand on her back, unsure how to help.

“Gill, talk to me. What’s going on?” He could hear the waver in his voice.

Gillian let her hand fall from her face and looked up at Jack. Her eyes were red, the tears streaming down her face formed tracks through the gray dust coating her skin. Her mouth opened wordlessly, looking at Jack with a look of pure terror.

Jack looked at the old woman who was peering down at them with a smug smile, one hand on her hip.

“What did you do to her? What was that?” he demanded harshly.

“Only what she deserved,” the woman said. “Oh, calm down. She’ll live... As it were.”

Jack returned his attention to Gillian, who had now slumped against him, her arms hanging limply at her side.

“Gill!” He shifted his body so he could cradle her head as she slipped down in unconsciousness. “Hey, wake up. Don’t do this to me,” he said softly. But Gillian was still and silent.

Jack reached into his leather bag with his free hand and pulled out this mobile phone. He dialed 999 and set it to speakerphone before looking back at the old woman.

“Tell me what that was, now.”

The woman smirked. “Just a bit of silver dust. She’ll wake up soon enough.”

Silver dust? Jack wasn’t sure if a person could be allergic to silver. But more importantly, how had this addle-brained woman known it would affect Gillian? Either way, he now had an answer to tell the emergency services.

As if in answer, the mobile in his hand let out a bleak tone and Jack looked down to see the call had failed. No bars of service.

“Is there a phone here?” Jack looked back at the woman, his panic rising. Gillian still hadn’t moved but he could hear her ragged breathing, a quiet rattling sound that did nothing to assuage his fear.

The woman rolled her eyes. Actually rolled her eyes.

“I told you, she’ll be fine. Now come, I have many things to tell you. You’re not safe here.”

She turned away and began to hobble toward the chapel door.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Tell me where I can find a phone or this woman’s death is on you.”

Jack’s voice broke as he heard his own words repeat in his head. Death? No. He would not let that happen. Could not let it happen.

The old woman paused and turned back to Jack with a sigh.

“Oh, come on then. I have an antidote in my cottage.”

Jack hesitated. The woman was clearly dangerous, possibly insane. He glanced around the chapel but there was no obvious phone anywhere. He looked down at his mobile again– still no bars.

“Ok, I’ll come with you. But if you’re lying…” Jack didn’t know how to finish that sentence so he reached a hand under Gillian’s prone legs and lifted her against his chest.

The old woman– Alice, apparently– led Jack out the chapel’s doors and across the castle grounds. A crow on the castle wall took off with a squawk as they passed under the archway.

“My cottage is just up this hill.” She pointed toward a sloping trail outside the property. She shuffled along slowly, hunched over her cane and Jack marched past her, Gillian still limp in his arms.

“I wouldn’t be doing that, boyo,” Alice croaked after him. “The wards won’t let that thing in without me.”

Jack hesitated. Wards? Maybe the place had an alarm.

“We need to hurry,” Jack said, turning back to watch the old woman’s slow progress. “And stop calling her a thing. What do you have against her?”

“That thing is an abomination. Something you would know if I had been there to raise you,” she said, shaking her head.

“What do you mean by that? And hold on, how do you know me?” Jack had almost forgotten the woman knew his full name. He was certain neither he nor Gillian had said it aloud while in the chapel.

“This pretty young thing you’re carrying on with is a bloodsucker, son,” she huffed out as they trudged up the hill. “Now, let’s get to the cottage before I tell you everything. I reckon you’ll want to be sitting down for this.”

They fell into silence as Jack pondered the woman’s words, the only sound the drag of their steps and her labored breathing.

A bloodsucker didn’t seem to describe Gillian at all. If anything, Jack was freeloading from her. She let him stay in her flat, fed him from the cafe, and was going out of the way to help him with his research. What did this old woman know?

The dirt path took them around a copse of trees and a small stone cottage appeared around the bend.

“Now, go fetch a pail of water from the well while I disable the wards and prepare the remedy,” the woman rasped out while pointing toward a stone well in the front garden.

Jack wasn’t in a position to argue with the old crone so he did as he was told, setting Gillian down gently in the grass beside the well. He took off his coat and placed it under her head then held up her wrist to check her pulse. It was strong, but her breathing was still shallow and her skin ice cold.

After filling the pail he found next to the well, he pulled Gillian into his arms again and headed toward the golden light falling out of the open cottage door. He stood in the doorway and found the old woman hunched over a workbench in the kitchen.

“Is it safe to enter?” he asked, unsure what the danger could be.

“Come in, come in,” she said without turning her head.

Jack stepped across the threshold into the warm room, a fire blazing in the large fireplace and several lamps lighting the small space. The low ceiling lined with hand-hewn beams, the stone walls, and rustic wooden floors added to the feeling he was stepping back into time. Half of the room was taken up by the kitchen, where Alice worked, surrounded by bottles of herbs and tinctures. The rest of the room held a sitting area with an antique couch covered in a worn quilt.

He laid Gillian on the couch, resting her head on a velvet pillow and brushed the hair off her face. His hand lingered on the soft skin of her cheek, before turning back out the door to fetch the pail he’d left waiting by the well.

Jack couldn’t believe how he’d ended up in this situation– with a waitress he’d only met days ago, having an allergic reaction caused by an elderly woman in the English countryside in the middle of the night. No one could make this up. He pulled out his mobile again but there were still no bars of service. He had to trust this woman to know what she was doing.

Lugging the full bucket of water, he reentered the cottage to find the woman leaning over Gillian. Jack’s heart leapt in his chest. Why had he left her with this crazy old crone?

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

The woman straightened, as much as she could with her hunched back, and turned toward Jack with a glare.

“Saving your pet,” she said and looked down at the small vial and spoon in her hands. “It’s the remedy to the silver poisoning, Jackie.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.” Jack said, chastented. His imagination was getting the better of him.

“Now, get over here and give her some of that water. Careful not to slosh it!”

Jack closed the cottage door and did as he was told, using a small cup to tip drops of water onto Gillian’s parted lips. He watched her face anxiously for any sign of change and let out a relieved breath when her breathing evened and color slowly returned to her cheeks.

Alice let out a groan as she settled into a rocking chair by the hearth, her wooden cane resting beside her.

“Your bloodsucker will be fine,” she said, raising her brows. “You can stop fussing over her like a mother hen and sit down.”

Jack spared her a glance and noticed for the first time the iron perch hanging from the ceiling near the mantel. A crow sat quietly on the metal bar, eyeing Jack with a beady eye that seemed to be waiting for him to reply.

“Can you please not call her that? Her name is Gillian,” he said with a sigh, and pulled his leather bag off. He set it on the floor and nestled himself onto the couch, pulling Gillian’s feet onto his lap.

“Her name is not actually Gillian, but that’s a story for another day. I have a lot to tell you and we need to be quick.”

Her eyes darted toward the door of the cottage before she turned her attention back to him.

“What do you know about your ancestry, boy?”

“Uh, not much. My parents were killed in a car crash when I was young and I have no other living relatives.”

The elderly woman just stared at him, her jaw moving soundlessly as if chewing on air.

“But I did some research into the Kyteler name when I was in university? There was a distant relative accused of witchcraft but nothing else of interest. Actually,” Jack’s eyes lit up as he remembered what he’d learned. “Her story was pretty fascinating. She was the first person condemned for witchcraft in Ireland but they think she fled to England, or maybe it was Flanders. I can’t remember her name. It was something like…” he trailed off and his eyes met the old woman’s.

“Alice?” she finished for him, with a mischievous twinkle in her emerald eyes.

Jack’s jaw slackened as he stared at her.

“It’s not possible,” he whispered.

“Aye, I’m Alice Kyteler. And they were right about that. I did flee to England before those fools could try to burn me. Met here with my old friend, dear Thomas.”

“But– But that was hundreds of years ago,” Jack sputtered.

“That it was. I’m a witch, Jackie. The magic keeps me young,” she finished with a wink.

“This is crazy. You’re crazy.”

Alice’s loud cackle filled the room. “That I might be. But then, you’re just as sane as I am.”

Jack stared at her, confused.

“You’re a warlock, Jack.”

“I’m a what?”

Gillian stirred beside him on the couch, her eyes fluttering open as she let out a breathy laugh.

“A warlock, of course. And a thumping good one, I’d say,” Gillian whispered with a weak smile.

“Gill, you’re awake!” Jack grasped her hand, which was still ice cold.

Gillian gave his hand a squeeze before pulling hers away and using her arms to push herself into a semi-sitting position against the pillow. She was still weak and the movement took effort, her breath coming in quick pants.

“So,” she said when she’d recovered her composure. “You’re the grandson of the great witch. Explains a lot.”

Jack’s gaze darted back and forth between Gillian and Alice.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded.

“Jackie, there isn’t time for your histrionics. Your little friend here broke the protection spell. It’s only a matter of time before Vlad’s men find us now.”

Gillian sat up straighter. “I didn’t break anything! And what do you mean someone will find us? You don’t mean–” she broke off, the blood draining from her face.

“Yes, dearie. I mean your King. Vlad the Impaler. Count Vlad von Karnstein. Daddy,” Alice said with a sneer. “Whatever you want to call him, he’ll be coming here to exact his 800 year old revenge.”

As if on cue, the cottage door burst open, broken pieces of wood flying into the room. A man clad all in black stood in the doorway, his long dark hair slicked back to frame a pale face. His black eyes found Alice and a wicked grin pulled across his face, revealing white teeth with the sharpest canines Jack had ever seen.

Three things happened in quick succession. Things that Jack would attempt to explain away. He would convince himself it was stress, or a trick of the eyes.

First, Gillian stiffened beside him and let out a sharp hiss. She attempted to stand, but in her weakened state the best she could manage was sitting upright on the couch. Jack turned toward her in concern, only to see a feral grimace revealing sharp white teeth rivaling the unexpected visitor’s.

At almost the same time, Alice waved her cane in the air and whispered strange words in a strange language. A gust of air swirled around the room, carrying a sharp scent of ozone. Jack watched in amazement as the shards of wood scattered across the floor rose in the wind and reformed as a solid door in front of the stranger’s astonished face.

Before Jack could react, Alice shoved a large leather bound tome into his chest. He wrapped his arms around it instinctively and stared at her in confusion, his eyes darting from the door, to Gillian, then back to Alice.

“Boy, listen to me carefully,” she said in a hushed urgent tone. “This is your destiny.” She pointed a gnarled finger to the book he clutched to his chest. “You are the great great grandson of Alice Kyteler and it is your honor-bound duty to protect the world from vampires. Use this. Learn the magic running through your blood and ruin the Vampire King once and for all.”

The old woman turned toward the door and began muttering in a strange language again. Jack stared at her, his lips parted as hundreds of questions caught in his throat.

“Jack, we need to get out of here.” Gillian’s voice pulled him out of his reverie and he turned toward her where she still sat on the couch. Her teeth were normal again and Jack made a mental note to get his eye glasses prescription checked.

“Don’t go anywhere with her!” Alice shouted. “You’re safe here for now. The vampire outside can’t get in without an invitation. She wants to lure you out there to him.”

Jack turned from Gillian to Alice before reaching down to pick up his leather bag.

“You are insane. We’re leaving,” he said as he carefully pushed the leather tome into his satchel.

Jack helped Gillian to her feet, his arm held securely around her waist. Alice was standing in front of the cottage door with her arms crossed, glaring at him. He had no desire to get into a physical altercation with an elderly woman, no matter how crazy she was being.

His eyes roamed the room and he found a door tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. He pulled Gillian in that direction as Alice shouted at them to stay.

Jack ignored her pleas and they left through the side door into a small grassy area that fell off into a steep hillside.

“How are you feeling, Gill? Are you ok to walk back down to the castle?” he asked as he led them toward the front of the cottage.

Before she could reply, the black-clad man appeared suddenly in their path.

“Gillian,” he said in a thick Eastern European accent that Jack couldn’t place.

“Andrei,” she said flatly as she pulled herself out of Jack’s grip and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Your father thinks you’re in London. He’ll be interested to know you’re here.”

Jack stared incredulously at the pair, his head turning from Gillian to this stranger.

“Do you know each other?” he asked Gillian.

She turned toward him and Jack could see her sharp canines again.

“Stay out of this, Jack,” she said just as Alice came hobbling out of the cottage.

The stranger turned toward Alice with a hiss and flew toward her faster than Jack had ever seen anyone move.

Before he could even take a step forward, the man was behind Alice and held one hand around her waist and another pulled her head to the side. He gave Jack a grin before sinking his sharp teeth into her exposed neck.

Jack gasped and moved to stop the man, but between one breath and the next, the man and Alice disappeared with a puff of smoke, leaving behind the acrid scent of brimstone and sulfur.

He turned toward Gillian, who was staring at him with a look that could only be described as hunger.

Jack took a step back, his eyes wide as he remembered Gillian had known that man.

“Jack, don’t–” Gillian took a step forward and reached out her hand toward him.

He recoiled and took one more step away from her. Suddenly, the earth gave way beneath him and he careened backward down the hill.

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Chapter 13