part 3
She held out a rag doll. To any normal person it would have passed as a crudely made toy, fashioned from patches of old remnant fabric. But I knew what it really was.
The doll's legs were made from some rough cuts of denim which looked familiar - my own jeans. The arms and body were of white cotton - the blouse I'd been wearing. The head was a mess, a mass of glue mixed with a spiky tangle of short snips of hair matching exactly the shade of my own.
Instinctively I took a step forward and reached out for the doll. It felt like a violation, like it was mine.
'Careful dearie, you know what it is,' said the old woman. It wasn't a question. She knew that I knew.
'Please give it to me,' I said quietly.
'It's not often I meet someone with your powers. In fact it's very rare. And there you were on the floor, waiting for me. All bruised and battered but still breathing. And totally helpless.' She smiled. 'I had weeks to bind you. You're perfect. It's almost like fate sent you.'
'What do you want?' I asked, my voice barely above a whisper
'I've a little job for you dearie. Nothing to difficult. Just a few simple spells, some scrying, and then some malice.
'That's black. I don't do black. I never have.'
'White, grey, black it doesn't mean anything to me dearie. You'll do the magick I ask or you'll suffer.
'And if I don't?'
She reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out a long needle which she held up. It looked wickedly sharp. Then she jabbed it hard into the leg of the doll. I screamed and fell fell to the floor.
'You'll do the magick dearie. Now go and sit down. I'll make us both a nice cup of tea.'