"There, Jessica, you just tend to my herb garden. Pick out the weeds and harvest the wolf's bane as I showed
you," the kindly old witch said as she re-entered her cottage.
Inside with the door closed, she could not resist a cackle. She strode over to doll sitting in the chair
where Jessica had left it.
"So Herr Schmidt, you thought you could shoot me? After I took care of your sons, you should have known
better," she snapped. "You know that your daughter-in-law didn't want to lose all your son's money when he
divorced her for sleeping with that lowlife biker. You know she came to me for help, and help I did for a
price. But you don't know what happened to your son after he disappeared, do you? Nor what happened to your
other sons when they came looking for him? Perhaps, I should tell you, since you're looking at a couple of
their corpses," the witch laughed. She nodded over her shoulder at the cabin wall covered with animal heads
and pelts.
The doll could only stare.
"Good," the witch said rubbing her hands gleefully, "I had to make sure you wouldn't be able to tell my new
protege that this "goode" witch is good at magic, but not necessarily being good - unless it suits me," she
laughed again.
She picked up the cloth doll and danced around the room humming and giggling. Then she pulled the doll close
to her face and whispered conspiratorially to it, "I have so few friends, I really must confide my clever plan
to someone before I burst, and Herr Schmidt, you are that person. A soul imprisoned in a doll cannot tell
anyone my plan, but you can appreciate its sublime elegance."
She glanced out the window to make sure Jessica was still occupied, and then she explained, "That Rick is what
we magic folk call an adept with high potential. He could have been a wizard or mage, but I changed him to
make him - er, her- my protege. Jessica will be a witch like me, probably more powerful, but then I will be
her. You didn't think this was my original body did you? Ah, you did? Silly, doll man. I've haunted Northern
Europe for centuries. The fool Beowulf nearly killed me, but even though he managed to kill my son Grendel, I
survived at least long enough to transfer my essence to another host's body. I left her feeble soul in my old
dying body to rot in that sea cave. Since then, I have been most notably Gretel, after trading bodies with
her, I convinced her stupid brother Hans to push her into my oven. Ah, you know that tale! Well, Jessica,
wouldn't believe it if you told her, but once I've properly trained her -maybe in a year or-" the witch
coughed uncontrollably for several minutes. She wiped up the coughed up blood, and drank a potion from an
amber vial. Then she cleared her throat and continued softly, "or maybe sooner. This body's wearing out
faster than I expected."