The Witching Hour

Disclaimer: I do not own "Pirates of the Caribbean," the owning of the "Pirates of the Caribbean" is the duty of Disney. Hey, throw me a bone here. I'm trying to vary the damn disclaimer message. I'M BORED.

Chapter 5
A Little Chat

As soon as the door slammed, Jack wnet furtively to the window to see if Annamaria was listening in, for she had a nasty habit of doing so. When he was satisfied that she had truly gone, Jack adopted his signature swagger and approached the witch.

"So...Miss Emmeline...where to begin," he mused. Otluta smiled at him, her elegantly slanted eyes seemed to sparkle even more. It seemed as though his insides had turned to the consistency of the hot stew that the cook was brewing below deck. jack attempted to clear his throat many times but failed. After the fifth attempt, he realized that there was nothing in his throat at all. His throat had merely become extremely dry and he had temporarily lost the ability to speak.

"Take your time, Captain," Otluta said sweetly, but not mockingly so, "I am in no rush." She leaned back against the luxurious pillows and glanced around the cabin, appearing quite comfortable.

Finally, though with the difficulty of a mental battle, Jack found his voice. She had called him "Captain." He usually had to remind all of the people he met (especially females) to call him by that....but not this one. His head swam and he swallowed hard before he spoke.

"First off," he said, this time with a determined authority in his tone, "I know what you are, and you don't need to hide it from me. I know why you hide your true name. It's not exactly typical around here. What was it again? Otualalalua?" Otluta chuckled at his attempt at pronouncing her name.

"It does not matter anyway, Captain. As I said before, you may call me Emmeline. That will do just fine. I will respond to it as if the name were my own." Jack nodded, though he loked as though something was bothering him. Yet he couldn't seem to express his dilemma in words. Otluta, who seemed to sense something was wrong, said,

"My dear Captain Sparrow--"

"Jack, love. You can call me Jack...just not in front of the crew." He would have winked at her, but when their eyes met, it seemed as though they were locked on each other, and neither could blink. Bright azure eyes met dark and exotic ones, both intense in color and gaze, Jack's as somber as ever. Finally they broke contact and Otluta, to Jack's astonishment, blushed slightly, a slightly pink tinge covering her olive skin. Otluta thought that she could stare into the hypnotic eyes of this magnetic man for eternity. Inwardly, however, Jack breathed a sigh of relief. For it was a relief to him, that, for once, SHE was intimidated by HIM. he thought that it might be a good thing that she could be modest and almost ladylike. So she still is like a human...she has many of the tendencies a lady has...she could easily disguise herself. Perhaps I won't have to worry so much about hiding her. I could even take her off the Pearl and into Tortuga....but why would I want to? Why would she want to see her once beautiful town in ruins and decay? She must have seen him frown and shake his head.

"Is something the matter?" she inquired politely. There was a long and uncomfortable silence. Jack fidgeted slightly, but Otluta stayed quite still, as it was in her nature to not fidgit.

"How old are you?" Jack asked suddenly and almost in an accusatory way. This was a question Otluta had not been expecting. In her "dream trance state" she had forgotten that she had accidentally revealed to him that she was not as young as she looked.

"I do not think you wish to know that," she said, a smile playing on her full lips.

"Oh, I'm thinking that I do, young lady, and I think I also have th right to know everything about the person I rescue," Jack pointed out in a calm voice. His eyes never left here. He was hoping to intimidate her again, but it was like staring down a pole cat, guarding its offspring.

"Very well, Captain," she said, conceding with the penalty of reducing him to formal terms, "If you really wish to know, I am 120 years old." Though Jack had been expecting a big number, older than his own age, perhaps, he hadn't been expecting a number quite so large. He couldn't help but let his jaw drop once again. Otluta adjusted herself and stood up carefully, gingerly testing her arm and flinching when she moved it. She would have to wait longer for it to heal. She was not worried, however. She walked up slowly to the captain, her slender figure swaing slightly. She walked as if she were floating, even though she didn't have her yew. Her black lace gown trailed behind her. Jack found himself half hopeful that she would step on it and tear it, ripping off her dress. But much to his disappointment, she didn't. He still stayed where he was, staring at this beautiful woman who looked no more than 19, his mouth still hanging open. When she reached Jack, he had become speechless once again.

Her scent wafted up to his nose and he was immediately addicted to it. She smelled like a combination of the sea, and white tea with a slight hint of the spicy smell of ginger. He breathed in her scent completely and instantly felt heat in his groin again. Jack's breath caught in his chest and he trembled slightly as she lifted up a thin and delicate hand and slowly pushed his chin upward, closing his jaw for him. She walked closer to him. She was too close....too close. He could breath again, but he was breathing hard. Otluta finally reached his riht side where she could whisper in his ear.

"No need to be shocked. You know what I am. We witches can live as old as 600 years, although our health declines in our 500s. I am young...very young." Jack trembled as though she had said something very seductive, but was able to ask another question nevertheless. Her blood-red lips were nearly touching his ear.

"How do you heal so quickly?"

"It is a part of my blood--witch blood. Witches heal very quickly and we are very hard to kill. However, the more we age, the more difficult it is for us to heal. And even the most grievous injury can kill a young witch. Sometimes, it is impossible to heal as quickly as needed. Though we live a long time, we are not immortal."

"What other abilities do you have?" Jack asked, interested at once, for he had always chased immortality. Though the witches had not achieved it, perhaps there was something just as good that they could share with him.

"Well, witches have the ability to communicate through the mind, as I have already shown you," she said, smiling knowingly at Jack. "We can talk to animals through this way as well, though we try to avoid this type of contact altogether, for you see, it is rather violating as you have already experienced." Jack smiled weakly and shuddered as he remembered the suffocating feeling of something gripping his consciousness--his being. "I can also use that sort of probing as a weapon if I am ever in battle and I need to discover my enemy's intentions." At this, Jack lit up. Oh, this was marvelous! This was something he definitely needed...especially when plundering from a well-armed ship! Otluta read his expression correctly.

"I am sorry," she said ruefully, "It is something the witches alone are gifted at. We are not born with the ability, however. It takes years to attain mastery of such a skill. When I say years, I mean about 60. I have had twice that to master it. I am still not as good as my grandmother, however. The older you are, the better you are at it. You can even learn how to talk to someone without hurting them and without giving them the feeling of suffocation. However, this skill is very subtle and takes hundreds of years to master. I apologize for any pain I have caused you." Jack looked disappointed and didn't even seem to acknowledge her apology. "However," she said, "You CAN be trained to block out someone who is trying to force their way into your mind. You seem to have a knack for it already." Her eyes glimmered wickedly.

"Well," Jack said, feeling modest for the first time in his life, "You're not the only thing..." he reached for the correct words. He did not want to offend this witch, for he could sense t hat she was very powerful, young as she was. "You're not the only thing...out of the ordinary that I've encountered," he finished rather lamely.

Otluta nodded and continued, for she assumed that Jack wante dher to do so. "Witches are also physically stronger than humans. Even the weakest witch would be a fair match for the most powerful human. We are masters at fighting...usually with a bow and arrows."

She stared at him once more, but suddenly turned to the small fireplace. She barely lifted her right hand toward the grate and instantly flames errupted in the hearth. Jack did a quick backstep, shying away slightly like a startled horse, and then walked forward, curiously looking at the genuine fire.

"I am sorry," Otluta said shortly, "I was cold. We witches are used to warmer weather. The beaches are warm, but the wind is making me chilled. It is not good if I am to heal." Jack nodded mutely, still looking at the fireplace, a bemused expression on his face. The next thing that occurred happened so quickly that Jack did not realize what had happened until it was too late. Otluta seemed to dart, almost like a dear toward him and quickly unsheathed his sword and pointed it at his Adam's apple.

"But I prefer swords," she said quietly, as though nothing had interrupted her explanation of a witch's abilities. Jack gulped and raised his hands to show that he was at her mercy. Great gods she was fast! Otluta lowered the sword and laughed merrily.

"Oh, you really don't think that I was going to kill my rescuer, do you?" Jack laughed as well, but rather higher than usual and ended it quickly.

"May I....have that back, please? It's rather sentimental..." Jack hated to admit something as insignificant as a sword was of sentimental value. Otluta turned the blade over and over in her hand, testing it, feeling the tip, and then turned around, and made stabbing motions as if she were fighting off an invisible opponent. If there was anyone there he would be so dead that even the dead wouldn't recognize him Jack thought, noting the ferocity of her fighting.

Suddenly, Otluta gasped and dropped the blade as she clutched her arm. It had begun to throb and she was off balance, since she only had one arm. Jack quickly ran forward to help her back to the bed. She gingerly sat down and cried out softly as Jack accidentaly bumped her arm.

"Sorry," he said abruptly. Otluta did not look angry. On the contrary, she looked keenly interested--not with Jack, but with the blade he was just picking up and sheathing.

"Who forged such a magnificent weapon? I have never used such a balanced sword...so wonderful...I would even compare its magnificence tothe witches' arrows, which fly the straightest and truest. Jack was flattered and patted the place where the blade was sheathed affectionately.

"It was the greatest blacksmith and half-pirate, William Turner."

Otluta's face lit up suddenly. This did not go unnoticed by Jack.

"Do you know young William, the eunich?" he asked and waggled his eyebrows.

"Well, yes and no," she said, smiling a half-smile, "That is for another day, I am afraid. I have forgotten my state and now am feeling the strain of a body not healing fast enough. Please, go now so that I may rest," Otluta said, her voice fading softly and lying back down, quicly drifting off to sleep. Jack looked slightly taken aback by the abrupt ending of this meeting, but shrugged his shoulders and quickly left the cabin. On the deck, he saw Annamaria looking furious.

"YOU WERE AGES IN THERE! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU DOING TO HER?" It seemed that Annamaria had become very protective of Otluta. Jack fleetingly wondered why and then snapped back into reality. He quickly backed up, for he was truly frightened that Annamaria would slap him again...or worse...hit the family jewels. He bumped into the outside wall of his cabin and looked up pleadingly and reassuringly at Annamaria.

"Nothing! Honestly, I wasn't doing anything to her! We were just talking! I wanted to ask her how she got here and..." he stopped, for he had neglected to ask the very obvious question. Well, HOW she got here was no mystery. She had crashed on the island, and by the charred yew, he was sure that it had been struck by lightning in the storm. He never asked her WHY, however, and he was keen to know. Why she was here, where she came from...where she was from, what were the circumstances of leaving her original home...but that would have to wait till tomorrow. Or if she was still not well, the day after that. Now, however, was the time to concentrate on avoiding getting castrated by Annamaria.

"I warn you," Annamaria said, dangerously pointing a finger at Jack's nose, "If you so much as lay a FINGER on her, YOU WILL PAY." With that, she flounced away, shoving the men who had gathered arond and were in her way.

"I wonder what 'ER problem is," Smith mused.

"No idea," Jack said, but it was a pirate musing.