Prologue Part III


When Tania awoke, it was well into the evening, on all Hallows' Eve. She opened her eyes to the small wooden space where she lay on the dirt. It did not take the girl long to figure out where she was and what had happened to her. "Damn, this is not good." She rubbed her hand over her face to get her eyes to adjust to the evening light. A knock rang on the wood of the room, or closet seeing its size. There was a click and the door opened.

"Good thou hast awoken." Mrs. Binx stood in the doorway holding out a lit lantern into the shed. The sun was fading quickly into the horizon and the hills beyond. Where ever she was, she reasoned as she looked out the small area, it over looked the river.

"What's happened, Ma'am?" Mrs. Binx did not meet the girl's eyes as she placed food in her lap. "Ma'am?"

"Thou awaits trial of council." Mrs. Binx all but whispered. "Even good Elijah is against thee. He says thee told Thackery and Emily what thou ist last eve." Tania sighed and banged her head backwards against the wood she was leaning on. "It is false, Tania?"

She did not answer, but stared unseeingly at the sky. Her mind was off in another world, another time, wondering where in her calculations she went wrong. "Tania." And then she realized it, everything went wrong when she acted like a coward. She ran away from the pain and sorrow and everything else that went wrong in that world. She left her only family alone, just as she was alone in this medieval look-alike town.

"Tania."

"Ma'am, no matter what happens, no matter what I do or say, know that I will always be grateful for your kindness. You helped me when I was lost, and I thank you for it, but I think it's time for the lost to return home."

Before Mrs. Binx could ask what the girl meant someone called out. "Time's up Ma'am. Leave the witch and go home." Mrs. Binx cast one last look upon the girl that she always considered a second daughter before leaving, locking the door behind her. This, though she didn't know it, would be the last time she saw Tania Miles. For after this, the girl called Tania Miles would be lost to Salem, Massachusetts for over 300 years.

The door closed and Tania went to work, and after pulling a small knife out of what seemed to be mid-air she cut away the rope that bound her feet, only giving a second's thought on why they bothered with only her feet. "Alright, no daylight savings time and the sun just went down. So that makes it roughly seven-eightish. Enough time left I suppose." She closed her eyes leaning against the wall. "This is probably the Manor house, highest point in town and practically farthest from the woods not counting the dock homes." She sighed, remembering the smell of fresh smoke in the air. "They've cremated the bodies, probably buried Emily." Her eyes stung at the thought of the girl she couldn't save, her soul trapped as long as the witches' first curse held. But if the Sanderson's bodies were burned, then the house would be left until winter to ward off any angry spirits. It was an interesting technique, but all together foolish and useless. The last she could remember, neither Thackery, nor his body, had yet to be found.

"'Cat's got my tongue.'" Human transformation if anything, and that dream she had, a 'more lingering' punishment.

She'd look for Thackery before leaving, though she doubted she would be able to find him. After an hour of scratching the wall with her pocket knife, she rose to her feet, unlocking the padlock with her magic and simply picking the door lock. A man sat upon a chair in front of the shack.

"Hello, daughter of darkness." The voice was familiar to her, for she heard it every day.

"Elijah." She said in an even tone.

"I knew the shack wouldn't hold a witch."

"Then why bother with one to begin with?" she slammed the door behind her, locking the locks with a wave of her hand. He stood, with the gun in hand and shaking noticeably. "Elijah, put the gun down."

"I'll shoot Tania. Don't think I will not."

She shook her head in an exasperated manner. "I know you would, but what would you do it you miss or I dodge? There can't be more than one, maybe two shots in that gun without reloading. These seventeenth century guns, heck nineteenth century guns, are pathetic." She shrugged and moved toward him, causing the boy to jump. "Put it down Elijah. I don't want to hurt you."

"One gun might not be enough against thee, witch, but what about ten?" She cocked her head confused as he drew breath. "THE WITCH HAS ESCAPED!" He shouted to the heavens taking his eyes off her for a second.

Every fire within a mile was lit, looking like the blood of a thousand innocents of the witch trials against the night's veil.

"Shit! Elijah!" She moved quickly, bringing her hand down on the side of his neck, but not before he pulled the trigger.

She screamed as Elijah dropped to the ground. Warm blood seeped down her arm, dampening the fabric of her dress sleeve. She gripped her upper arm and ran for it. Running around the backs of the village houses while avoiding the citizens of the town, who wouldn't hesitate to see her die, was not easy. She tripped over upturned roots that had grown their way into the path, had a few close calls with the men running down the streets using their torches as guides, and lost blood all the while. By the time she reached the edge of the wood, her face was pale and her breath was labored. Then a voice called out her name.

She turned to see Mr. Binx facing her, the flames held above him giving light to the darkness. "Why –?" She shook her head and turned, but then paused and said. "The answer you seek is on the wall of my prison."

Then she ran into the wood, disappearing like a sprite. But a half-hour later she was still groping in the dark, gripping her arm against the pain, and trying to stop the blood flow should she bleed to death. She thanked God that the bullet had torn straight through the flesh without hitting the bone. There had been no time during her walk that she would be able to stop and treat her wound. Even sparing a minute could summon the hoard of villagers upon her.

A misstep and she was sprawled in the dirt. Groaning, she picked herself up using only her good arm. In the distance, she could hear the angry shouts of the villagers.

"Shit." She rose from the leaves and saw the Sanderson house right in front of her. That vile book was still inside. She could feel it. She ran into the cabin, searching for the flint she kept in her skirt pocket for occasions when fire was necessary, after all she could not use her power to summon fire just yet. With one strike, she lit the flames that had been under the cauldron. She glared at the large iron pot, the one that brewed death. She searched the entire house, looking quickly from top to bottom before finding it within the fire place.

It lay covered in soot, yet unharmed otherwise. She sighed, picking up the large tome. The aged human flesh felt like leather in her hands as she ran a shaking palm across its volume. She dared not open it. The book was too engrossed in evil, and for the wrong purpose could corrupt even the purest of witches, which even she was not. The only thing she could do with it, since it could not be destroyed by her, was to hide it. It would only delay the witches, but it would be precious time that was wasted. Kicking up a loose floorboard near the fireplace, she saw the ladder that lead downward beneath it. Without bothering to even think about what lay down in the dark well, she threw the book down with all of her remaining strength. The candle that sat upon a throne in the middle of the room soon followed. Even as she closed the boards, the thuds of the book's bindings could still be heard against the rock wall.

She ran out of that dreadful house, leaving the door swinging open in the autumn wind, the coming of winter's breath. The flickering lights of the torches weren't far off now.

"There! Perhaps the witch took refuge in her fellow's house!" A voice called out in the distance.

With that, she turned to the opposite direction of the sound, yet every step she took seemed to be useless, as the mob grew ever closer. Finally, her legs gave out as she tripped again, this time on a root, and she didn't bother getting up. She moved her body to lean against a thick oak tree. Her body was weak from exhaustion and blood loss, but she would not die here, not if she could help it. For awhile the only sound was her breathing and the night winds, howling above the trees. Leaves crunched softly, too softly to be a human.

"Mrow." Tania opened her eyes and ended up staring into strange luminescent green eyes. "Mrow." The black cat pounced softly on her chest, staring straight into her eyes. "Mrow."

"What?" she asked, feeling utterly idiotic talking to a cat, a black cat as well - how fitting. The cat swiped at her and meowed again. "Look you have my attention, what do you want?" The green eyes looked annoyed as it patted her right arm with a paw. When she winced at the pain that shot from her wound, it looked confused, staring at the arm and sniffing the air.

"Mrow?"

"Alright, that does it!" The cat immediately jumped away from her and hissed. "I'm not going to hurt you, stupid cat." It visibly relaxed, but still it paced meowing and jerking its head. "Speak, Speak or forever hold thy peace!"

"TANIA!" Not expecting a response (well, a response, yes, but not a human voice, and certainly not one she knew so well), she jumped and clutched her arm as the pain returned. "Tania, what happened to thee?"

"Never mind that. Thackery, Thackery," she cooed as he climbed back to his previous spot. She petted his head, scratching with her first two fingers behind his ears. "Dear Thackery, what have they done to thee? You're a cat!"

"At least I am whole, Tania. What is wrong with thy arm?"

"It's nothing," she insisted, but he pressed his paw into it again. Wincing she scolded. "Okay, it's worse than it looks, but don't do that!"

"I can smell your blood, and it's mixed with gun powder. Thou wert shot – why, and who?"

She sighed, closing her eyes again, scratching Thackery's small furry head. "I faced trial in the morning."

If a cat could look surprised, Thackery achieved it. "I never told anyone."

"I never said you did, Thackery. Winifred Sanderson told practically the entire town before she was hanged. And Elijah confirmed it."

"How?"

"Must have overheard us talking yesterday. He was the one that shot me, by the way. He was the unfortunate soul that guarded me tonight."

"What didst thou do, Tania?" Thackery asked cautiously, wondering what punishment she had bestowed upon his friend.

Tania laughed at his uneasiness. "Don't worry, I only knocked him out by hitting a pressure point on the neck." She explained, pointing at her own. "He'll be fine, if a little sore come morning. And I only hit him after he shouted out to the rest of the town."

He rubbed against her hand, purring. "Thou hadst best keep moving then. I can hear the townsfolk approaching."

She groaned and looked behind her. "Are you sure you aren't a dog, by any chance?" She asked laughing, once she turned back to face him, as only a dying person could. "I'm done, Thackery. It's no use."

He pawed the flesh over her shoulder blades. "Tis not over yet!"

"I can't move, Thackery, my body is worn out. I've lost far too much blood." She could see the flames out of the corner of her eye now. "I'll be going home soon." She admitted in a far-off voice that didn't sound anywhere near Salem.

"What do you mean?"

She smiled mischievously at him, looking thoroughly happy for the first time that Thackery had seen. "You are about to find out my biggest and most guarded secret. By every technicality I am negative 299 years, six months, and three days old."

"What?"

She laughed a pretty sound that only helped alert the coming mob of their presence. "You heard me. I ran away from home after my parents died, and, wanting to get as far away from home as possible, I accidentally transported myself here. I don't recall the memories of how it happened." She said, waving a hand in the air vaguely, as if trying to grab those memories from the air, "And the next thing I remember, I was in my nine year old body - a seven year difference – and I didn't remember anything then. All I could remember at the time was my name, date of birth, and a story to tell. I went around believing all that myself until –"

"We were twelve." He put in from his spot, curled up on her lap.

"Yes, then my locket did something funny, relaying a message I put in there before, though I don't recall doing so. Everything except the actual travel came back to me. Including my parents' death, the reason I ran to begin with. Oh you can't even imagine the sorrow I felt at losing them not once, not twice, but three times in my memory." The two lay in silence for awhile, listening to the night and the ever nearing villagers.

It was when they could hear the distinct voice of each villager that tracked her that Tania rose from the ground and back to her feet. She leaned against the hard oak for support as she looked down at her friend. "Come with me, Thackery. I can't do anything about your curse alone but with my aunt's help we probably could."

"Nay, I shall remain here and guard the Sanderson house."

"Thackery, you can't honestly expect me to just leave you here. Who knows how many Hallow's nights you'll have to guard. I can't just leave you here alone. I know how that feels, Thackery, don't do it to yourself. Please."

"I must. I have failed to protect Emily, but I won't fail again. When – if – the witches return, I'll be waiting for them."

"Thackery," she rubbed his head gently over and over again. "You stupid noble fool, now know this: Winifred's spell book and the black flame candle. I threw them down a well hidden underneath the floorboards of the house by the fire place. It is that candle that a virgin must light to bring the sisters to life once more and that is what you must guard."

"There, there the witch up ahead!"

Tania stared at the voices and the shapes they became. "Time runs short. Thackery are you sure about your decision?"

"Aye."

"Then good luck to you, my friend. I'll try to return to Salem when I return to my own time." His cat form quickly jumped at her, and she held the poor boy tight in her arms. "Stay safe, Thackery Binx, please stay safe."

"I am an immortal cat, what is the worst that could happen?" He laughed.

She smiled, petting him one last time. "I don't want to know. Now go." And he did. Landing on his paws, he ran into the darkness with a cat's agility, but she knew that he would keep a close watch until she was gone. She looked up into the night sky to see the moon nearly, but not quite overhead. "It's almost time."

"Tania Miles!" She turned at her name, using the trunk of the tree to support herself. She waited patiently for the man to continue, boldly facing him and the rest without fear. "Thou hast forfeited thy right to a trial. Thou art a witch, do ye deny it?"

She shook her head. "But I'd like to say something anyway. To you, Council of Salem…what are these trials of yours? Do you call that crap justice? Well I call it corrupt politics. Anyone can accuse someone they don't like by acting funny, just so they could get rid of them. You can it witchcraft – I call it stupidity. I've searched this town, and I'll tell you this – the only witches here were the sisters and I. Good and Evil in a little town, huh. Another thing what was one of the most famous tests of the witches…umm…oh yeah! Let's see it they sink or swim. If they swim they're a witch; if they drown they're a dead human. And reading the bible in a language they can't understand… oh yes that's real justice, that is. NOT! Use common sense, people! Or did that not get created until the Revolution?"

They used their crosses and holy water to barricade themselves from her, but she just laughed softly. "Do you really think those things will work against me? I'm just as religious as the next man."

"Thou art a witch!"

"A pure one yes, unlike those empty shells of Sandersons."

"There you see, she does not deny it, Binx! Thou hast housed a witch all these years."

Tania looked up to see the man she had earlier said a sad goodbye to. He stared at her with anger, with hate, with disappointment, and with sadness. "All of these years we've sheltered thee, and to repay us, you sell your soul and harm my children."

Her hand immediately went to the locket around her neck, pulling at the extending chain. She was hurt by his words and insisted quietly, "I would never do a thing to harm either Emily or Thackery."

"Get their good names off your foul tongue!" She would have smiled at the irony of the repeated words she'd said to Winifred this morning were the situation not so dire. "You cursed them the moment you told them what thou wert. Look now; they're gone in less than one day's passing!" Perhaps I did, humans aren't supposed to know about magic.

"Hang the girl!"

"Send her to hell for her crimes!"

What have I ever done to you, she thought, caressing the locket in her palm. Glancing up she saw the moon almost directly overhead. It was time.

"I'd love to stay for the party and all – well not really but you get the picture – but my time in this century has run out." She took the locket in both hands and flipped open the clasp. A bright light, stronger than any of the surrounding flames was emitted from its depths. "Chronos, Guardian of Time, I beseech thee. Return this runaway from whence she came. Return me to the place I ran from. Return me to my blood. So speak my name Tania Milesius!"

The bright light enveloped the girl's small body, deteriorating the clothes of a long forgotten past, returning the garments she wore when she left. Though none of the townsfolk were able to tell, her body decreased in age by one year to the age she was when she left. None of the townsfolk had ever seen such magic and as the glow brightened ten-fold, they had to shield their eye or be blinded. When the light was gone, the girl had gone with it.


-DD
September 30, 2009

(c) Disney 1993