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“I don't think I have the time for a boyfriend right now.” She was trying to sound sarcastic but it just came out as one big sigh.

“Good,” Tabitha smiled taking her comment literally.

Her mother would have detected the sarcasm.

Tabitha's smile soon faded as she continued her tale. “Your mother, my best friend was murdered in 1612, you were seventeen years old. A powerful witch goes through a change. This change is more commonly triggered by an emotional or physical experience. Once a witch goes through the change they will never age in appearance, their age will not change. I once knew a witch who was nearly four thousand years old, we consider that to be a good age. Death will also come from the same things that can kill humans, guns, knives and such things. Disease, cancer or infections do us no harm. The less powerful become old and die,” she smiled before saying, “that is how they become the three decrepit witches outside my shop. It was believed many years ago that this was how the Devil rid the world of the weak. He only wanted the strong representing him here on earth. Of course, it isn’t true. You remain seventeen years old because the death of your mother was the turning point for you.”

“So, you’re saying I will look seventeen all my life?”

“Yes.”

No!

That wasn’t right. She refused to be forever seventeen. “But I just had a birthday. I'm seventeen and next year I will be eighteen. I
will
be eighteen.” If she willed it, it would come true, she was sure.

“You
are
seventeen but every time we go through the process of taking those memories we make you believe you are nearly sixteen. I’m afraid you will never be eighteen.”

She sank deeper into the chair. This was depressing. She couldn’t believe that th
is had been going on since 1612.
  Her life was one big lie. Being seventeen meant that she would always be asked for ID. What did you live for if you didn't die? What made you strive to do things in life, to conquer a 'what to do before you die list?’

She looked at Tabitha, her coal black hair pulled to one side, her eyes focused on her.

“Wait, how long have you been running the shop?”

“A number of years,” Tabitha said, skilfully evading the intended meaning behind the question.

Cora wasn’t going to let her off the hook just yet. “But won't people start asking questions? You look the same, Tabitha, years later you will still look the same, people may just notice this.”

“Well, I have weaved a complicated spell on the residents in this village. No one questions it. They don't notice how I look.”

“Isn't there a law against that?” she asked.

“I imagine there is but I have a life here, one that I'm unwilling to give up.”

Well, who was she to argue? She didn't want to move now either.

“Does the spell apply to me?” she asked feeling uncertain. She didn’t want to believe for the first time in a year she could call somewhere home.

“If you would like it to?”

She felt the relief. It helped that Tabitha would extend the spell, would allow her to make a home here. “I need more time to figure this whole thing out.”

“I understand this must be hard for you, Cora, and we have discussed a lot tonight. I will suspend your first coven meeting for the time being.”

             
The cove went black signalling the end of the conversation. She stood up and felt Tabitha’s warm arm slide around her waist. Everything had changed. The life she’d lived and hated was over.  She could start again. She grinned in the dark, how often were people given the opportunity to do such a thing? 

A DIFFERENT KIND OF PAIN

The motion of going up and down was quite soothing, yet strange. When had he jumped on board a boat? His brows collided in the middle of his head as he thought of the answer. Another
small
issue was the weather. If he had jumped on a boat then surely he should feel warmth seeping deep into his body? Why then, did he feel like he had frost bite on his toes?

             
He opened his eyes and the dull autumn sun greeted their appearance by burning his retinas. Squinting, he tried to look around the black spots that were floating in his vision. To his left was the farm owned by Andrew Bruton. To his right were the woods that branched off in the direction of Lemon Tree village, a village smaller than this, if that was at all possible. He knew where he was. The memory of what had happened came screaming painfully back at him.

             
He wheezed and rubbed his hand over his chest. It felt like he’d been hit with a bulldozer. He could still hear the crunch against his ribcage, something had hit him. Then complete bliss as he’d lost consciousness.

All thoughts aside, why did he still feel like he was on a boat?

He glanced casually to his left.

It was at that moment that he swallowed his heart.

Christ! He wasn’t on the floor!

His body hit concrete grazing his elbow as it made contact with the hard tarmac. His head smacked against the black stuff, the sting was instant making him hiss in frustration. Rolling over, he shifted his weight onto his knees and felt the ground ripple beneath him. Gritting his teeth he pushed the onslaught of sick back down to his stomach. He would not throw up. He slowly
pushed himself into
a standing position and every muscle from head to foot whimpered.

             
He needed to speak with Eli. Eli had warned him but he hadn’t listened. He smacked himself on the head with the flat part of his palm which made his head spin, the ground rolled, his body swayed. Sometimes, hell, most of the time, he really was just a stupid teenager who didn't listen. He took a deep breath and limped back home.

             
Eli was sprawled on the sofa watching the box when he crashed through the door. Well it wasn't exactly an energetic entrance, more like a stumbling on his last legs. Eli’s bored gaze moved from the TV to his face. Confusion clouded Eli's eyes, the green and blue dancing together becoming turquoise as he tried to figure out what had happened. Eli's eyes widened, Jack could see the understanding.

             
Eli gingerly picked up the remote and switched the TV off. That was his cue to start explaining, but he couldn't form the words.

“So, judging by your entry and by the look of you, which, by the way you look like hell, I guess you finally want to talk.” Eli had started for him.

He urged his legs to move and made it to the end of the sofa where they gave way. Leaning back, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and took a deep breath. “I think it’s happened.”

“Good, I’ve been trying to explain things to you-”

“No, Eli, something happened, I can't explain it, she deserved it, it was-”

Eli abruptly stood cutting him off. “What do you mean?” Eli towered over him, his hands fisted at his hips and a look of horror on his face.

Oh Jesus, he'd gone and done it. Eli's expressions usually consisted of two things; concern, for example when he’d broken his leg playing around in Bruton’s field or concentration, when he was developing a new gadget to sell. This look, where his eyes narrowed, his mouth pulled into an angry scowl and his jaw pulsed as he ground his teeth together, wasn't a great one. Last time he'd witnessed such a look, he’d had verbal whiplash for months. He’d made the grave mistake of setting Eli up on a date. It hadn’t gone down well.

“Well… remember when you told me I would have some sort of power?” He could hardly believe he was saying it.

“It's not something I'm going to forget, Jack, and I recall you laughed at me and continued to watch your garbage on TV.” His jaw pulsed some more.

Christ, it was becoming worse.

“Well, I think I’ve got my powers today. No big deal though,” he shrugged and held back the wince that one small action caused.

             
The kitchen was as long as the cottage and was situated at the back overlooking a shield of trees. It was light and airy and creamy yellow in colour with light wood cabinets and cupboards. Walking the short distance, in his condition it was a marathon, to the fridge, he opened it and reached for a can. His mouth and throat wept with gratitude as the cold liquid exploded and fizzed its way down. He heard Eli’s heavy footsteps behind him.

Three, two, one-

“Jack, you need to do some explaining! What the hell happened? What do you mean you
just
have powers now? That she deserved it? If I know the person you said deserves it... Christ, we're in serious trouble.”

Jack turned and watched Eli have some sort of middle age breakdown. Eli pushed his hand through his short conker red hair. He wearily approached Eli, past experience taught him to be careful when someone was angry. Eli had never lashed out but there was a first time for everything.

             
He cautiously placed his hands on Eli’s shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. Why was Eli worrying so much? He could handle a little girl, easy peasy.

“Listen, I can handle the situation.”

Eli laughed loudly. “You cannot handle that witch, Jack. She is very powerful, as you've probably already found out.” Eli looked him up and down before focusing on his face. “I can see you already had some sort of fight. What happened?”

“Okay. I was with Lee and Adam,” Jack began as Eli paced in front of him. “We spotted this girl outside the witch shop-”

“When?” Eli interrupted.

“Errrmmm, Thursday I think.”

“Jesus, why didn't you tell me sooner?” Eli scolded as he pushed his hand through his hair in exasperation.

“Because nothing happened...well nothing much,” he mumbled. Before Eli could shout at him again, he continued. “Anyway, I thought I would have a laugh with her, yer know... So I had a go at this girl and then that woman who owns the shop, the weird one, she came out to rescue her. Then we left. That was all that happened, well, the first time.”

Eli had stopped pacing and he was now fixing him with a lethal stare.

“The next time I saw her we were messing around in the field.
Something
happened to me, Eli. She was so deep in thought I managed to creep up on her, her face was a picture. I don't know what it is about that girl but whenever she is near I just feel so overwhelmed with emotions. I felt it, something in here.” He smacked his gut ignoring the instant rise of bile. He shouldn’t have done that. “The power I felt was immense, God, I can’t tell you how much it hurt-”

“I know how much it hurts,” Eli interrupted.

Right, Eli was a witch too, how could he forget that?

“Anyway, I remember something pummelled headlong into my chest and then I was flying through the air. I remember feeling the ground smash into my back and then complete blackness.” He moved his hand over the back of his head where a dull throb was easing away but a bump had formed there. His hair was stuck in clumps of dried blood. “Well, I woke up but I wasn't on the floor.”

Eli's brows shot up into his hair line. “What do you mean?”

“I was flying like bloody Superman. Once I realised what I was doing I fell and hit my head, whacked it good and scratched my elbow to bits.”

There was silence as Eli digested the information he’d received. “So, you can levitate, your mother's element has been passed down to you. Come and sit down, Jack.” Eli placed his hand on his shoulder making Jack wince as pain shot across his shoulder blades.

Eli dropped the hand and made his way to the sofa. “It's time you were told everything about your family.”

CHATTOX FAMILY

“Pay attention to what I tell you, you didn’t listen last time I mentioned this to you and now look at what’s happened. This situation could’ve been avoided, now that it is here we will have to deal with it, you life depends on you listening to me.”

Talk about being melodramatic. Eli narrowed his eyes just as Jack was going to roll his eyes, how had Eli known he was going to do it?

“In 1612, thirteen witches were hung for witchcraft. They are known better nowadays as the Pendle Hill witches. The majority of the Pendle Hill witches resided here. According to the commoners living here witches had shown themselves to the public. I don’t believe it for one second. We didn't do such things. I did warn you last time I discussed this with you that demonstrating your magic in front of people is forbidden within our community. The law needs to be upheld at all times.”

“All right! No need to poke your finger in my face.” He playfully slapped Eli's finger away.