"Away, away, you ugly witch, go far away and let me be,
I never will be your lover so true, and I wish I were out of your company.
Allison Gross, she must be
The ugliest witch in the North Country."
--Steeleye Span
It was not a village at all as she would have thought of a village. Her vision was of crude huts and homes lining a dusty street. The village known as North Country was small—housing barely over a hundred people, all of them witches. The buildings themselves were of all shapes and designs from stone-block towers to enormous tree houses. The street that led up through the middle of the village was not dusty at all, being made up of cobblestones, making strange symbols on the surface of the road. As they rode into the village, Marya pointed to a squat stone tower that sat at the road's northern end.
There were women walking around in the village that stopped and looked at them strangely. Annie wondered if it was because they were strangers or if it was because of Aiden slumped in his saddle beside her. From what she could see, there were no men here. Even more disturbing was the fact that all the women she had seen were beautiful. They varied in age from crones to little girls, but she could see they were all beautiful. It was making her extremely self-conscious.
"I must warn you," Marya said as they neared the tower, "about Allison Gross."
"Warn me?" she asked curiously. "Is she dangerous?"
"In some ways—but I fear more for our friend here."
"Does she hate guys?"
"No, quite the opposite, actually." She stopped at the gate to the squat, stone tower and got off her horse. "Under no circumstance are we to allow him to be alone with Allison. Either you or I must be at his side at all times. Nor are we to allow him to accept any gift from her. Do you have a middle name?"
"Yes…"
"Keep it a secret." Annie helped her pull Aiden from his horse. Between them, they wrestled him to the door where Marya rapped on it with a knocker shaped like a grinning worm.
"Who is it?" came a voice on the other side of the door.
"It is I, Marya, the wild girl of Berelain," Marya said settling Aiden onto the top step. "I come seeking Allison Gross."
"And what reason do you have for seeking the ugliest witch in North Country?" the voice continued.
"We seek aid. I have come with travelers from a distant world. They seek a way home. Also, the boy is ill and we wonder if you know of a cure." There was a click as the lock was disengaged from the inside. The great wooden door swung inward revealing a girl with long brown hair and a worried expression.
"A boy?" she said looking down at Aiden. "Oh. Bring him inside. Hello, Marya." Annie got under Aiden's other arm and helped Marya to carry him inside. The other girl led them inside to a low couch where she knocked some books off onto the floor before they laid him down. She laid a hand on his forehead, then felt for a pulse in his neck. The girl looked young—perhaps no more than twelve years old—but Annie supposed she was older by the air of responsibility in her actions. In fact she was sure that Marya had told her she was at least fifteen. Her face was plain, but she could tell a smile would make it pretty. She wondered why she had referred to herself as the "ugliest witch in the North Country." She was definitely not ugly, just… plain. Considering the other residents of North Country she had seen, maybe she was the ugliest. She wondered about Marya's warnings of leaving Aiden alone with her. What would she do?
"Where are you from?" the other girl asked her suddenly.
"Planet Earth," she replied, not really sure of how to answer. The girl rolled her eyes.
"Do you know what's making him sick?" she tried again.
"He's a diabetic—do you know what diabetes is?"
"Endocrine disorder. Pancreas stops producing insulin. When's the last time he had insulin?"
"Um. A few days ago." This girl knew more than her, obviously. "Somebody stole his insulin," she added needlessly.
"You don't know what world you're from?"
"I didn't even know there were other worlds," she admitted.
"I know a spell that will take him back—but he will just get sick again if he doesn't get insulin." The girl shrugged. "As for a way home, I don't know. I'd need to know where you call home."
"You have access to other worlds?" Marya asked her.
"My mother and I were the last with the talent," the girl said. "So now there's only me." The girl traced the lines of his face with a gentle finger and sighed. "What is his name?"
"Aiden," Annie replied, feeling stupid. The girl repeated his name softly.
"Are you his girlfriend?"
"No," she replied honestly. The girl's smile widened at the news. Annie immediately did not like that smile, regretting her honesty. She caught a look from Marya and gave her a sheepish look. She still did not know what to make of this girl. She was brushing Aiden's long brown hair out of his face, a hungry look in her eye.
"Let's put him in my room," the girl said suddenly. Marya bit her lip for a moment, then nodded. The girl helped her and Annie carry him up a short flight of stairs to a bedroom on the second floor. It was a large room with a queen-sized bed and a variety of posters on the walls. Annie recognized a few of them as bands from her own world, though others were completely alien to her. The girl moved a small mound of stuffed animals over to a chair beneath the window as they stretched Aiden out and removed his boots. The girl pulled his shirt over his head and frowned as she counted his ribs. "He's awfully skinny," she muttered, trailing a hand over his thin chest. Annie agreed. He looked ill, pale and sweating on the rich purple sheets of the girl's bed. Like a prince under a spell in a fairy tale. About to be healed by a witch, no less. She watched the girl struggle for a moment with his pants.
"What are you doing?" she asked grabbing the girl's arm.
"We have to remove his clothes," the girl replied levelly.
"Is that necessary?"
"In order for the healing to work," the girl said pulling her arm free, "he has to be as he was born." The girl drew herself up. "You can wait downstairs if you wish. Witchcraft is never pretty."
"What are you going to do to him?"
"I'm going to return him to a healthier state. For that he needs to be naked."
"He and the Lady Angela are promised," Marya said, coming to her rescue. "It would be improper, Allison, for her to see him thus."
"Promised?" the girl asked skeptically. "But she said—"Marya steered Annie toward the door, cutting off the girl's protests.
"Wait downstairs," Marya told her. "I will watch her and make sure she behaves herself."
"What is she going to do? Why does he have to be naked?"
"Witchcraft. Much of it involves nudity, so I do not know if it is necessary or not. I leave that to her, but I will be watching. Eye of toad, skin of newt, probably the blood from one of the doves from the cote she keeps on the roof. Magic. Old magic—I have no doubt she will do as she says and heal him." She offered a weak smile. "Beyond that, who can say?"
"Should I stay? I mean, I—"
"You don't have to. I will be here." Annie nodded glumly and went downstairs. Whatever they did to them, she hoped it turned out all right. Lying down on the couch, she stared up at the ceiling to wait.
She must have fallen asleep for when she awoke the light coming through the windows was dim and purplish. Her back and neck were stiff from lying in the same position for so long. How long had she slept? Most of the day, from the looks of it.
She sat up and looked around, wondering where everyone was. She cocked an ear to hear better upstairs. She heard the low murmur of voices and what sounded like the growl of a wild animal. So, they were still up there. Perhaps she should just have a peek.
Halfway up the stairs, she heard someone scream and something banged against the door on the other side. Quickening her pace, she reached the door in time to hear chanting coming from behind it. There was another growl, as if on the far side of the room. What did they have in there? Gripping the knob, she opened the door.
Marya pulled her in and quickly shut the door. The other girl was kneeling at the foot of the bed facing a creature crouching on the headboard she had only seen in nightmares. It was large—as large as a man and vaguely man-like in shape, though covered in short, gray fur. The thing's head was not human at all—it was the snarling face of an angry dog, lips peeled back, ears lying flat against its skull. A frightening face, but one that seemed almost… familiar.
"What is it?" she managed to ask. "Where's Aiden?" Even as she said it, she knew the thing on the bed was her friend. The eyes are still the same, she thought to herself. Marya had said herself that he was a werewolf. But the moon was not up—why had he changed? "What happened?" she asked Marya, grabbing her wrist.
"Allison regressed him too far—regressed him to where he changed to that," she told her breathlessly. "She said she cannot take him back further or he will die!"
"He got stabbed in the heart before he became a were…" she trailed off, looking at him. He wasn't a werewolf—he was thinner and not as fierce. A were-coyote, she supposed remembering the lanky, gray dogs from home. "Before he became that."
Allison said something in a language she didn't recognize and pink translucent bands of energy encircled the creature's wrists. It snarled and snapped, but remained bound where it was. Allison wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and hopped off the bed, breathing hard.
"You didn't mention he was a werewolf," she said acidly.
"You didn't ask," Annie replied. "I might be one too." The other girl frowned and grabbed a straight pin from the top of a bureau. With a quick swipe, she drew it across Annie's forearm. "Ow!" she yelled drawing back, covering the scratch with her other hand.
"Let me see it," the girl said holding up the pin.
"You scratched me," she said looking down to assess the damage. The wound was shallow—only a scratch—but on her arm it looked far worse. The edges of the sore looked burned, the sensitive skin underneath a glaring red. She looked at it in shock; sure it had only been a scratch. "What did you do to me?"
"You're allergic to silver," the girl told her. "That's part of becoming a were-creature. You're infected." Annie stopped rubbing her arm and looked at Aiden struggling in his bonds. This was all getting hard to believe.
"Is there a cure?" she asked in a quiet voice.
"Wolf's bane tea," the girl said eagerly. Marya shook her head at her. "Well, I can do a regression with you if you've not got a serious wound. But I can't do that to him."
"What's wrong with wolf's bane tea?" she asked nervously.
"Poisonous," Marya said. Allison shrugged and offered a weak smile.
"Cures lycanthropy," she said simply. She looked at the snarling creature on her bed. "The bands should hold. We'll cure you—take off your clothes."
"Take off my…? In front of him?"
"Prudery," Allison said and rolled her eyes. "He won't remember—he's a werewolf." She pulled a piece of chalk from a pocket and began to draw a big five-pointed star in a circle on the stone floor. "Get undressed and lie down in the middle of this." She put a burning candle at each of the five points. "Well?" she said when Annie didn't move.
"It will be all right," Marya assured her. "Regression is a simple spell with no ill effects."
"Is it magic?" she asked wonderingly.
"No," Allison said. "More science. I make your cells remember what they were like before you got sick." Annie blinked—what world was this girl from? "But it does require what you would call magic. I call them old memories. Remembering, not magic."
"Remembering what?"
"Old ways." She smiled—she was quite pretty when she smiled. "Witchcraft is as old as time itself." Annie sighed and moved to stand within the pentagram, tugging at her boots.
"Let's get this over with," she said.