"You know, sometimes I truly despise witches."
Brother Grimm spoke in a harsh tone that gave lie to his otherwise calm demeanor. What had happened to him at the hands of the mother and daughter North, only brought back memories that left a foul after taste to his mouth as well as memory.
Seated upon a rickety old chair, as ancient as the cabin around it and the entirety of the furnishings within, his amber eyes seemed unfocused, almost vacant, as he sat at the table, his fingertips idly drumming the worn surface. He almost wouldn't have noticed her attention now on him, having heard his words and temporarily setting aside her knitting. He cast a sidelong glance towards the witch of many (infamous) fables and tales and he smirked at the expectancy in her facial features.
He spoke, "Present company, excluded of course."
"Hm." She picked the knitting needles, crafted ages ago by her own hands from the forearm bones of an old enemy, she resumed her project, speaking idly, "Rather a pointed observation, given your history. Though I should think it was a witch who released you from the void, you should have a somewhat higher opinion on those that perform the craft."
"It was also a coven of witches that sealed me away."
"Gypsies, not witches." She contradicted. "Albeit ones with a grasp of talent for whit magic, but still." She shook her head. "A world of difference between a Romani practitioner and a true witch of natural ability. Not on who relies on gems and trinkets..."
"Or bargains with the unseemly?" Grimm turned his head and rested his chin on the back of his smooth fingertips while he addressed her.
"Bargaining your soul or favors for power that isn't even to be called your own is a fool's bargain." Baba Yaga spat. "Pretenders like that are worse than those silly fools who dance naked in the moonlight and worship trees."
"Really?" Grimm found himself asking in a bemused manner. "You believe them to be worse?"
She paused from her knitting only long enough to reach for the chipped cup and saucer on the stool by her rocking chair. The steaming tea smelled strongly of spice and a touch of brimstone, but she sipped at it gently for a moment before setting it aside and once again, resuming her hobby.
She answered, "At least the naturalists draw from the earth what they use, so their magic is their own -- weak as it may be. Everything the bargaining ones use for their own benefit is the power and strength of whatever they struck the bargains with. None of it is to be called their own."
Grimm slowly stood up, asking her, "Have a run in or two with those sorts have you?"
"Druids. Naturalists. The truly gifted." She answered with a nod. "I've had my encounters over the years with each." She paused and looked up at him with a curios eye. "Why? What's brought this sudden animosity back after all this time?"
Brother Grimm walked up to the hut's oven, the bricks that lined it discolored from years of flame and soot. He leaned down at the waist to stare into the flames, one hand resting against the mantle. He extended his free hand into the searing interior and his fingertips played along with the dancing flames.
She asked, "Shouldn't you be more focused on this encounter you have scheduled?"
"The encounter will be but a trifle, and nothing more." Brother Grimm answered. "Connor Murphy is just another layer of protection to peel away until we get to the prize. A pawn if you will in a game with far, far larger stakes at hand."
"You had the prize, as I recall." Baba Yaga pointed out. "You let him go for some forsaken reason."
"All respect due witch..." Grimm let that word hang loose on his tongue so she would recognize the cool animosity behind it. "... skilled and as strong as you are, you can not hope to decipher my mind. For now, let's just go with the assumption that I enjoy a hunt and young Tim was caught too easily. So, I threw him back."
"And gave others the chance to gather around him to ward him from yourself." She spoke. "Friends such as this Connor Murphy. The surrounding of his family and homestead..."
"Witches." Grimm added casually.
The word hung in the air, cutting a path of silence in its wake. Baba Yaga slowly looked up and said, "Pardon?"
Brother Grimm stood upright and slowly turned his back to the fire and rested back along the mantle. He said, "It would appear ... that young Timothy Staggs is now under the protection of witches."
"Indeed." She again set her knitting down and clasped her ancient hands together on her waist. "Tell me more."
In weeks past...
To one passing by on the walk or street, the Austen Riggs Center of Stockbridge, Massachusetts resembled an elaborate mansion that belonged in an old feature film on the silver screen ala "Gone With the Wind," but in reality it was one of the top ten psychiatric care facilities here in the Continental United States. A non-profit facility that cared for many cases of varied degrees of difficulty. From raging psychosis to basic neurotics, the Center and the men and women who worked it as doctors and care specialists strived to provide the safest manner of treatments possible for those housed within the secure walls, whether they come voluntarily, by their family's directions, or forced to by order of the court.
"Are you certain this is a wise decision, Maureen?"
"Trust me, Tom. I didn't come by this decision lightly. I've been treating her ever since she was assigned to us last year and you've seen the video files and her charts. Ms. Grey has made remarkable strides towards recovery."
"That I understand. She's changed tenfold since she came under your care. She was practically a catatonic mess when the courts placed her with us. Rarely spoke, and quite frankly, she gave some of the orderlies the creeps with the way she'd..."
"The way she'd act?"
"No, the way she wouldn't act. The way she'd lay on her bed, just staring off into nothing. Or how she'd sit on that chair in front of her open closet door, like she was expecting something to come out of it."
"Well, you know as well as I do why she was sent here. *sighs* I can't fathom what the loss of a baby, anyone's baby, can do to someone's mind. Mother or father, strong or..."
"Weak?"
"Getting to know her over these past nine months, I'd dare say she had a stronger mind than the court gave her credit for."
"She told the courts that the 'boogey man' stole her baby."
"I never denied her story, Tom, but it's my belief that when her child was taken, she was simply unable to handle it and that tall tale was her way of coping with the loss of her newborn. Her husband had left her. The little girl was all she had left. Once that was gone..."
"And you're certain that the time is right to place her back into the world?"
"Tom, Ms. Grey was not placed into prison for a reason. The baby was never found and there was an extensive search made by the public and police. Nothing was ever found. Through the eyes of the law, Belladonna Grey is an innocent. I believe that it is quite safe for her to step back into the world once again and face what may come..."
In the office of Doctor Maureen Rosen, the doctor herself sat across from a woman just past her early years and settling into her later; late thirties, perhaps early forties. One could tell by her bone structure she had been a true beauty at some point in her life, but the haunted look in the recesses of her eyes was what made that distinction something of the past.
Doctor Rosen spoke, "Belladonna..."
"Please, doctor." The patient smiled in a disarming calm and a charming smile. "You've been treating me for almost a year since my break down. You've seen me at my worst so calling me Belle would be a gift, if you would?"
"Fine, Belle." Doctor Rosen obliged. "I just wanted to let you know that tomorrow morning will be the day that we've been preparing for all these months. You and I have discussed this possibility the past two weeks, and well..." She held her hands out invitingly, and the patient smiled with hope, perhaps for the first time in what seemed to be ages.
She swallowed hard and her eyes misted over, "Really? I really get to go home?"
"You do." Doctor Rosen nodded in the affirmative. "You've worked hard and improved so much. You've truly earned this and I am so proud of you."
"Oh Doctor..." The patient stood up and the Doctor gathered her into her own arms for a warm embrace.
"Now," Doctor Rosen said as she released her and held her out, "Why don't you go get packed for an early beginning to a whole new life tomorrow morning?"
The patient smiled and choked back a sob of delighted disbelief, wiping at her eyes....
In the facility's room 2C, Belladonna Grey stood before the double door closet and grasped the handles. She slid the closet doors open and cast her eyes into the shadows inside. She looked into the interior with a stoic indifference, until slowly a smile crossed her lips, revealing whitened teeth.
She chuckled softly and whispered, "I know you're in there...."
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