by Al K. Line
"Okay, fine. Damn, Grandma!" I hung up and tried to think what to do. I couldn't leave Kate but I couldn't take her with me either.
She saw the confusion and said, "Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid. Go deal with him and then we'll go find out exactly what has been happening and if Severi is really to blame."
"You sure? You'll be okay?"
"Faz, I don't know if I'll ever be okay again after what I did. The only thing that will save me is if I know for certain it wasn't me doing it. So do what you have to do, then come get me and let me know without a shadow of a doubt I was made to do it. Otherwise, I think I'll go out of my mind."
"I love you." I kissed Kate and headed out the door.
The porridge was gone.
Witch HQ
I could have kicked myself for not giving Grandma my number. If she needed me she wouldn't be able to get in touch. See, this is how panicked I was, I wasn't thinking straight. Kate had a phone, she had a phone I could call, and damn, it was Grandma—nobody messed with her if they had any sense. She may focus mainly on her potions but she could kick magical butt if she needed to, however large the backside was.
Not that I'd ever seen her use magic to fight, she never had the need. She was too well respected, and had stayed out of politics, until now, so never made enemies the way I did, the way Rikka did.
I called but there was no answer. Rikka had said nothing about Grandma being there, but he wasn't exactly himself at the moment, or maybe he simply didn't know.
Luckily, I didn't have to go back into the city to get to the witches. They were out in the country, probably close to the limit of where I could go. I checked the sat nav to be sure—I was good for a few miles so no need to panic. Or, you know, not totally.
I'd heard that the witches had rebuilt their old headquarters while I was in prison, just not that it was probably Grandma who had directed operations. Would it be razed again by a giant? Only one way to find out.
With no plan on how to deal with Reade Littlejohn, I did what I always did, put it out of my mind and focused on being in the zone. It's the flow state, that place in you where you are settled, neither confident nor afraid, you just are. Life ebbs and flows and you have utter faith in yourself whilst at the same time are unaware of your conscious thoughts. You accept the situation and deal with whatever arises.
So when I arrived to find a group of witches, including Grandma, sat around a rather large fire laughing and joking with Reade Littlejohn crouched in the middle of the group, happily eating loaves of bread, I was at a bit of a loss.
Strange Meetings
"Um, hello?"
The witches turned at my voice and I was greeted with smiles. Reade Littlejohn grunted then continued to eat. There was a mound of food next to him, more scraps than you'd think even a man of his size could consume, and sitting close was Grandma. It was kind of odd seeing her there, like she was out of context. I always picture her at home, usually in the kitchen, so to see her outside, clearly in charge of the others who looked to her in deference, questioning how to greet me, was odd to say the least.
She nodded at the women and they parted to allow me through.
"Faz, what are you doing here?"
"Um, Rikka called me. Said you were almost out of food."
Reade shifted his massive frame—damn, he was big. I knew giants were large, but it's not until you get up close that you appreciate their enormity.
Reade looked up and said, "Did you bring more food? I'm hungry."
"No, I didn't. I came to make sure everything is all right. Grandma, is it?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" She was acting the innocent because of Reade, I was sure. What could she say, that they were all freaked and worried he'd eat them?
"No reason, just wanted to check." What now? I felt kind of awkward but we couldn't exactly have a conversation about why Reade was here, or could we?
"So, what are we talking about? And aren't you going to introduce me?"
There was a gasp from the others. They clearly didn't think it was a good idea but I could see no other way. If Reade was here to get Rikka then he knew my name, and maybe he didn't know I was out of prison, or maybe he did. If we were to fight—although god knows how that would work—then here was better than anywhere else.
"Reade Littlejohn, this is Faz Pound, my grandson. Faz, this is Reade, our guest. He's come all the way from Scotland, isn't that nice?"
"Great. Nice to meet you, Reade." I held out my hand and he stood, dwarfing me. He was eighteen to twenty foot tall at least. So big it was impossible to gauge his size properly. His hand was four times the size of mine, covered in veins and scars. His bare forearms were as thick as both my legs together and even reaching up above my head our hands only just met.
"You too, Faz Pound." He squatted down, yet even then we weren't face to face, but it was a little less intimidating. "You are the one known as Black Spark, are you not?"
The fact he spoke so well made him all the more intimidating. The Scottish accent was there, but muted. Maybe living forever means you miss the temporary blips on the language radar and stick to what allows you to communicate easiest. Come to think of it, that's true for many Hidden species. Imagine if none of us could understand the other, it would be more messed up than it is now!
"Yes, that's me. How do you know my name?"
"Now, now, boys. Shall we carry on with our meal?" interjected Grandma, knowing no good would come of our strained smalltalk.
"Sorry, Grandma, but this is man business," said Reade. "You've been very kind and I promise I won't eat any of you, not even that one there that looks so plump and delicious," Reade pointed at a rather large young witch who went as white as a sheet and squealed in shock, "but I am here for a reason, you know that."
"And what reason is that?" I asked.
"To deal with Rikka. Stomp him, amongst other things."
"If you want Rikka you'll have to go through me."
"I was told this might be the case. Spark, you cannot defeat me. Nobody can stand in my way." Reade stood. I kept my eyes away from his kilt—that way lay nightmares of inadequacy—and stared up at his face.
"I have to protect him, and I have to know who sent you. And why?"
"Haha," came the deep voice, sound rolling around the hills like thunder, "you think I will give you answers? The Littlejohns never betray a trust."
"I understand and respect that. But what if you've been duped, lied to?"
"Then I'll be sure to—"
"Stomp them, right?"
He scratched at his thick brow. "Yes, how did you know?"
Okay, he may be eloquent but he was no Mensa candidate.
There was a smell of sulfur and a voice as loud as Reade's suddenly boomed, "Hey, Spark, got any Marmite?" right in my ear, my hearing gone then returning with a ringing. I swear Intus has given me tinnitus.
"Get it away, get it away. Ugh, horrid little imp, nasty and evil. Get it. Run everyone, run for your lives." Reade scanned the area in utter panic, as if scores of imps would attack him at any moment.
"Reade Littlejohn," shouted Intus, her chest puffed out and her arms waggling about in what I think she meant to be an intimidating way, "I have come to visit you. You ate all the witches' food and you ate the witches, too, now I'm here to dance the dance with you. Mwaah."
Intus made some strange cackling noises and I tried not to roll my eyes. She went into overdrive with her arms, wiggling them like mad, tail whipping up high. She broke down into a fit of laughter, pot belly bouncing like a ball under her dungarees, but her actions had the desired effect.
Reade went wild. He ran around screaming and shouting for everyone to look out as the evil imps were out to get him and everyone else and to run for the hills and check under your clothes. As Intus collapsed, helpless with laughter, on my shoulder with her tiny hands clutching her belly Reade was gone.
His massive legs ate up the distance as he ran for all he was worth, covering the g
round faster than I could drive. In ten seconds he was across the field and lost from sight.
We stood there, stunned, neither the witches nor me sure what had just happened. Intus was slowly recovering from what was apparently the best joke she'd ever played.
"Who knew giants were scared of imps?" said Grandma. "That's good information to have."
"Too right it is. Wonder where he's gone?" I could only hope he was running all the way back to Scotland but I knew I wouldn't be that lucky.
"I knew," said Intus, finally recovered. She vanished from my shoulder and reappeared center-stage on one of the logs the witches used for seats.
All eyes turned to her. She was loving the attention. She even did a bow and everything. "So this visit was, shall we say, timed?" I asked.
"Can't say. You know imps aren't allowed to interfere in human business, not disrupt your Hidden affairs, but I'm allowed to visit my friends. Hello, Mrs. Grandma, how are you?" Intus does like to keep it formal.
"Very well, Intus. How are the kids? Behaving?" Grandma seemed to be taking it all in her stride, but then, she's had a lot of experience, I suppose.
"I wish," sighed Intus. "They grow up so fast. Some of them are already getting really good with socks and have progressed to hiding the change you humans leave in your cars for when you have to use a parking meter. But they keep putting it somewhere obvious, like amateurs. They'll learn." Intus shrugged.
"Oh, that's nice. Now, Intus, why are giants scared of imps?"
Everyone leaned in close, waiting for the big revelation.
Intus smiled her impossibly wide grin, hitched up her leather dungarees and pulled her ears so they were tall and proud. "We may have had a slight misunderstanding, oh, must be three or four thousand years ago now. There was a whole group of us, on a very important job, and, er, well, it got a little out of hand."
I could only imagine what a load of imps could get up to. One is bad enough—they can make a serious mess of your underwear drawer. I once wore a pair of ladies' panties all day and kept wondering why I felt so odd before realizing it must have been an imp messing about and swapping over my stuff with a woman I had a brief relationship with.
"Come on, tell us what you did." It would be something daft, I was sure. Imps are a menace but harmless enough, usually.
"Okay, but you have to understand it was a different time. We weren't as cosmopolitan as we are now."
"Just get on with it you silly woman," said a grumpy old witch.
"Oi, that's sexist that is. Don't you go calling me a woman. I'm my own person, and it's those kind of outdated remarks that give you witches a bad name. You need to get with the times is what you need. Don't you go classifying me with your labels." Intus made bunny ears. "I'm an imp, not some woman." Again, more bunny ears.
"Just tell us," I moaned. Intus would rant for hours otherwise and I had things to do. I felt the clock ticking down at my neck and was getting seriously concerned about my possible lack of a future.
"Okay, Spark, no need to get huffy. You'd think you didn't want to hear my story or something."
"Oh, heaven forbid. Please, continue." Sometimes you have to humor Intus, that or you'll find you've missed a day and still not heard the point of the conversation.
"Thank you, I will. Now, we had to go as a group because the job was big and giants are big. Silly things, they're so difficult to work with. They really should—"
"Get on with it!" we chorused, everyone ready to just walk away and get on with their day.
"Okay, jeez. So, we were up in Scotland. It's very cold up there, you know. Why anyone would live in a place that—"
"Intus!"
"Sorry. It was a big job to do. We had to make the stitching loose on all the Littlejohns' kilts so that when they were doing their marauding their dangly bits would stick out right when they were trying to be fierce. There were about fifty of us and we had all the kilts in a pile and were working away diligently. It was all going quite well but then another tribe starting shouting outside the cave and the Littlejohns all jumped up and grabbed their kilts. Well, before we knew it we were hanging from their hairy bits and a few of us may have got a little scared and began biting and clawing. Just gently, mind you, nothing too menacing. We aren't allowed to actually hurt anyone, not much. And, er, that's it."
Intus' ears flattened at the silence. Nobody said a word as images of giants running around batting at their kilts while hordes of imps gnawed on things that should never be gnawed on occupied our minds.
"Then I guess it's understandable that Reade is scared of imps," said Grandma.
"Maybe." Intus shrugged and was gone.
"Grandma, can I have a word?"
"Sure. Is it urgent?"
"You could say that," I squeaked, trying not to panic as I felt my neck thrum.
Promises
Grandma led me to one of the wooden chalets lined up in neat rows, cheap and efficient housing for the witches that liked to live communally. She'd done a good job of getting the place up and running again, showing she could organize effectively when the need arose. The farm was full of animals, and it looked like it was a healthy business once again. I could tell she hated it by the scowls she gave the alpacas and the way she frowned at the women that bowed to her like she was royalty. She can't stand that stuff, never liked to acknowledge Heads and their posturing, and now here she was, the one being bowed to.
"Before you say it, don't." Grandma held up a hand and stared me down.
"I have to. I know we think of ourselves as invincible, but we need to talk."
"No, we don't. You'll be fine, everything will be fine. Kate will be fine."
I could see the truth behind her old lady exterior, the act she put on for the other witches. She was scared, frightened for me and for Kate. "So you heard about yesterday, about Kate?" Don't ask me how, but she knows about everything in our world. Spies everywhere. These old ladies blend into the background so easily they may as well be invisible.
"I heard," she said, face grim. "That's not Kate, not who she is. She's a lovely girl. She's good for you, Faz, so don't let this one get away."
"You didn't see what she did. I was there and I had to bash the guy's head in. You know I don't do things like that lightly."
Grandma sat down on a small two-seater sofa covered with some weird paisley print that made my head hurt just looking at it—one thing witches don't have is modern taste in home furnishings. There were even squares of crochet on the arms, talk about old skool. Grandma suddenly found one very interesting. "Yes, well, none of us are perfect," she mumbled.
"Look, I need to tell you a few things in case I'm not around after tomorrow. Yes, I know you don't want to hear it, but there you go. Just listen."
"Okay, but you'll be fine. Someone's messing with things, aren't they? I can feel it, you can too. Everyone is acting strange. Even I keep thinking I'm being a little odd now and then."
"Haha, how can you tell? If I'm not around then take care of Kate, promise me that. If I don't find out who's behind all this craziness lately then you have to get your witches to find out. And you're right, someone is manipulating our lives, making people act odd. That's why Kate went wild."
"See, I told you it's not like her."
"I know, but you didn't see what I saw. It nearly broke her, me too. Anyway, look after her. Don't let the vampires have her."
"I won't."
"There's something else. I met Oskari, the new Head."
"I heard."
"How the hell do you know all this stuff?"
"I have my ways," she replied mysteriously. She never tells me but I keep on asking anyway. "He told me something. He told me who killed Mum and Dad."
Grandma was up off the sofa faster than you would believe her old legs could move her. "Who? I knew this day would come. Tell me. Who killed my daughter and son-in-law?" I don't think I've ever seen her like that. She looked ancient then, showing her true years. A woman who had seen so much, done so
much, most of which she never talks about, and lost so much.
"It might not be true. Oskari said it was a gift, to keep the peace, but who knows?"
"I know Oskari. I've met him on many occasions over the years and he's honest. Nasty, and cruel, but honest. What's the name?"
"Kimiko Cocchi."
"I knew it! That bloody woman."
"I'll deal with her, after I clear up our mess here at home. Okay?"
"Okay."
"But if something happens to me then you know now, and I expect you to take care of our family business."
"Haven't I always? But don't worry, my grandson won't be beaten, especially not by any stupid giant or Hidden trying to mess with us. My family. I will not lose you. Ever."
"Okay, just wanted to tell you. I love you."
"And I love you."
We hugged, sharing a sadness and a sense of loss that has been a constant in our lives since I was a boy. Grandma saved me, maybe saved herself, too, by having to care for me, but it was always there in the background. A need for one thing. Vengeance.
I left. I prayed I'd get to see her again.
Chasing Giants
Right, time to put my house in order, time to put everything in order. This was out of control and even by our rules things had gone way too far. You expect Hidden to try all manner of things to get one over on you, but there are unwritten rules, codes we abide by, and one thing you do not do is make people debase themselves as Kate had. That would not stand.
So, time to tidy up. Time to act.
I made a mental list as I traced the trail of destruction left by a giant scared of a talkative, naughty imp.
Send giant back to Scotland somehow. Get Rikka back being Head, get Grandma off being Head. Deal with person responsible for my nightmare. Not a long list, but still a damn tall order.
The trail of the giant quickly grew cold. Damaged hedges and large swathes of flattened fields led into dense forest where I had to park up and trail him by foot. The air was cool and it was dark and silent under the dense canopy, but there was no sign of Reade. He may be big, but he was a creature of the wilds and expert at leaving no trace now he had calmed down from his imp encounter.