MORGANNA STARED AT THE PLATE of gruel.

The food, tasteless and inedible, lay in a tray atop a small table now swiveled across her lap. The bed she occupied included an upper half cranked to an upright position. This allowed her to sit up and view the same scene she’d observed since she awoke a seven-count of days ago.

A small table and lamp beside the bed.

A window covered with what her attendant referred to as “blinds”.

An ugly, green chair with a padded seat.

A privy she puzzled over for so long, she was forced to ask for help.

Various beeping and humming implements whose function and purpose she couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Strangest of all, was the flat, metallic square mounted on the wall above her. Like a large eye, it showed scenes of people and places, their visual clarity and speech so crystal clear, more than once she climbed out of the bed and tried to touch them. At first, she thought the object a type of magical door much like the one which dropped her into this new world, but it soon became apparent it was neither door or magic. Later, she noticed tiny versions of the eye carried in the hands of almost all the healers.

Her attendant, a healer with “Anna” on her nametag, called the large eye a TV and the smaller version a cell phone.

Absently, Morganna scratched the puckered wound on her shoulder. Fading now, an ugly black and purple bruise still circled the scar left by the poisoned bolt. By means Morganna did not understand, the healers of this establishment brought her back from the precipice of death. Her recuperation and the slow return of her strength, although a disappointment, gave her time to learn as much as possible about her new environment. Most importantly, this included where she was and who peopled this land!

Anna proved very helpful, answering all of her many questions when she awoke to find herself in this different and peculiar world. Although she could tell the healer believed her questions proof of an addled mind, Morganna wasn’t troubled. Her total lack of understanding of so many things left her at times thinking she must be in the grip of fevered visions, not reality.

Morganna preferred to be thought a fool anyway. It worked to her advantage no one suspected her prowess. She needed to test not only her physical recovery, but her witch’s strength as well…and she was pleased—very pleased—by what she discovered. Her spells, her magic, felt more robust than ever before. Her first attempt at magic—a spell to understand and speak the tongue of those who cared for her—she deemed so successful, she even acquired their accent! The fools considered her harmless, which left her free to plot her escape. Then she would find Tressalayne, and together, they would establish a new coven.

Morganna salivated at the prospect.

From what she gleaned so far, this world knew little of magic, and less of witches. Such virgin territory was rife with opportunity. Best of all, Hunters, such as the cursed Lockstone, appeared to be nonexistent. After all, what need of Hunters with no witches to hunt? Giddy, she couldn’t help herself and laughed out loud. Wiping mirthful tears from her eyes, she considered her next move…escape.

And she knew exactly who would help her.

The stranger whose wagon, or car, the doorway dropped her into, was a frequent visitor. This woman, who introduced herself as Karen, appeared to be afraid she might suffer consequences related to Morganna’s injuries. Why she would have such a preposterous notion continued to mystify to the coven leader, but her fear served to guarantee Karen’s return.

Which was essential to Morganna’s plans.

On cue, the door opened and Karen swept into the room. The witch studied her as she pulled a chair up next to the bed. Honey-brown, perfectly coiffed hair fell midway down her neck. Blue eyes with kohl-darkened lashes regarded Morganna with nervous energy. Morganna noted Karen’s short skirt, and the generous amount of her tanned legs it showed.

Karen carried a large bag. Reaching in, she removed pants, a blouse, and a lacy bra and panties, and spread them out on the bed.

“I did the best I could to guess your size. Do you feel up to trying them on?”

With a false smile, Morganna purred, “Oh, yes. I appreciate you doing this for me. My clothes from the accident were ruined.”

When Morganna mentioned her tattered clothing during her last visit, Karen, eager to accommodate, jumped at the opportunity to replace the lost clothes.

Morganna slid out of bed and allowed Karen to help her dress. The underclothes, panties and bra, constricted her and felt odd. What purpose did an extra layer of apparel serve? However, the woman insisted, so Morganna obliged her. The shoes, flat-soled sandals, left her feet bare, a first for her after years of boots and leather bound slippers.

Karen opened the door to the bathroom. A mirror hung above the sink and she motioned for Morganna to look at herself.

The witch gasped. The woman in the reflection was almost unrecognizable! Her face was thinner from weight loss, her figure less full. Her complexion, a pallid white, gave her the look of a dead fish. The clothes—Karen called them a blouse and blue jeans—were a snug, comfortable fit.

A burning anger boiled within her. Lockstone caused this! The witch hunter almost succeeded in killing her.

Almost.

A predatory smile played across her face. She was ready to make up for lost time.

Morganna motioned with her finger. “Come here, dearie. I think I have something in my eye.”

Karen obeyed and peered in Morganna’s eyes.

“I don’t see anything. I have some eye drops. Maybe—”

Karen blinked, her eyes becoming heavy. Within moments, they glazed over and became blank.

Morganna stopped the whispered chant, the bewitching spell complete. Pleased, she started to test the bewitching further, when a sudden wave of dizziness came over her. She just managed to make it to the ugly chair, when her legs gave out and she collapsed into the seat. The world spun and swayed. She closed her eyes, and forced herself to take deep, even breaths, while she waited for the vertigo to pass. A stark realization struck her while she waited.

She was still too weak.

Even a simple and uncomplicated bewitching spell cost her dearly. It was clear her road to recovery was far from over.

Despite her weakness, the coven leader was more determined than ever to leave. The hospital, as Anna called it, grew to be more like a prison every day, and the constabulary continued to pay her regular visits to ask questions she could not answer.

The dizziness passed, and Morganna motioned to her enthralled victim.

“Retrieve my bag.”

Without hesitation, Karen spun and went to a corner of the room where a plastic hospital bag with all the witch’s possessions hung from a metal hook on the wall. Returning to Morganna, Karen handed her the bag and stood motionless, hands limp at her side.

Although Morganna lost her grip on Tressalayne when they plunged through the portal to this world, she somehow managed to hang on to the bag with all their magical implements. Of course, the constables searched her bag, but they returned all of its contents, a colossal mistake by them but a boon to a witch of her prowess. Without her tools and implements, Morganna would be hard-pressed to do what she knew must be done to make good on her escape.

Her hand closed around the small vial of morlaga potion. Besides youth, the elixir’s restorative properties could speed healing. Morganna uncorked the bottle, took a small sip, and then resealed it.

The effect was immediate.

A rush of energy flooded her bloodstream. Strength returned to her limbs, and the dizziness disappeared in an instant. Standing, she made her way back to the privy.

Once again at the mirror, Morganna beheld a different person from just moments before. Her face regained fullness, her cheeks a rosy red with the hollowness gone. Her figure, more voluptuous, caused her clothes to fit tighter. Realizing the effects of the potion was temporary and would not last, Morganna knew she must act now.

She pawed through her bag again, and pulled out the small bottle of changeling powder. She took a risk if she used the powder because it required much stronger magic than the bewitching spell which left her so weak. However, she had little choice. Once out of her room, she might be recognized, the constables sent for, and she would be forced to return. No doubt a closer watch on her would ensue, and the window of opportunity to escape would evaporate.

She couldn’t allow that to happen.

Fortunately, all she needed to do was alter her appearance enough to fool those charged with her care. She didn’t need a full-blown transformation, and the clothes she now wore went a long way toward modifying her appearance. A subtle change to her face should be enough.

Taking a tiny pinch of powder, Morganna held her hand above her head and let it dribble onto her. The ancient words of the changeling spell whispered from her lips. She closed her eyes and waited.

A bright light enveloped her, followed by the familiar burning sensation. When the feeling passed, Morganna hurried to the bathroom mirror and again, studied her reflection.

Gone was her long, black mane. In its place grew shoulder length, straw-colored hair. Eyes of blue stared at her, with cheekbones higher and sharper than before.

Perfect.

Best of all, the weakness had left her, and the restorative power of the morlaga potion continued to hold. She tossed the implements back into the shopping bag her bewitched victim brought her clothes in. Morganna took a last look at her room and smiled.

Time to go.

“We’re leaving. If we are stopped, you will introduce me as your friend.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Karen answered.

“Once we are out of this place, you will take me to the lake house you told me about.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And you’re sure it is unoccupied?”

“Yes, Mistress. My husband and I use it only on an occasional basis on weekends.”

Morgana rubbed her hands in anticipation.

Time to start her new life.