Authors Note:
I would like to thank TheGoofyProofReader for not only providing editing for the story but also providing feedback which has led to a better product.
"Mother!" Clare screamed as Ida fell down the staircase, ending as a heap of limbs on the foyer floor.
Clair rushed to her mother's side, lifting her head off the cold marble cradling it in her lap as the head housekeeper rushed to her side.
"Run and get the doctor!" Clare demanded, turning her attention back to her mother as the other woman ran out the doorway.
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"Her condition is getting worse," Albert, Ida's husband, said to the doctor as the two men spoke quietly outside the room Ida was resting in.
"I don't want to lie to you, Albert. Your wife's condition will continue to deteriorate. It's a miracle she is still alive," The doctor said, putting his equipment back in the bag as he readied to leave.
"How much longer does she have left?" Clare asked, pushing the hall door open from where she had been eavesdropping.
"Clare! You know better than to eavesdrop on an adult conversation," Albert said, annoyed at his daughter's overstep.
You mean a man's conversation
, Clare thought, but she kept quiet, knowing that bringing that up would only get her sent away.
"It's ok, Albert. She needs to know. Your mother is suffering from a lung disease that we simply don't have treatments for. I'm sorry, but you had better accept that Ida will only be among us for a few more weeks," the Doctor said, putting his hand on Albert's shoulder and squeezing it before turning and walking out of the room.
Ida heard the exchange. They weren't as quiet as they thought.
I'm not going to die without a fight
, Ida thought as tears flowed down her face.
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It took a few days before Ida could arrange a meeting with an old woman who lived at the edge of the woods. There had been rumors about her for years that she was a witch. The peasants claimed that she had saved more than one of them from certain death over the years. Those rumors allowed her to live unmolested from the church. They didn't want another peasant revolt.
Ida didn't care if the old woman fucked demons as long as she had a means of curing what was wrong with her lungs.
The two women met secretly in the stables a week before the new moon.
"So, you are the one my maids say can cure the sick," Ida said, sizing up the old women before her.
"Sometimes, madam," the old woman crooked.
"Let's speak plainly. I don't have time for games. Can you help me or not?" Ida demanded.
The older woman straightened, growing several inches taller and taking on a more menacing aspect.
"I can't cure what's wrong with your lungs, child," the old witch said, holding up her hand to prevent Ida from interrupting.
"I said I couldn't. My master, on the other hand, can do a lot of things. I took the liberty of asking him about helping you with your problem before I came today," the Witch said, moving around the open area and looking into the dark stalls as if searching for something.
"He said it wasn't worth his time to heal an old woman who had only a few more years left in her anyway."
Ida felt the floor drop out beneath her at the news. With her last hope dashed, she slid to her knees in the hay.
The old Witch continued circling her, smiling.
"I begged and begged, I did. Eventually, maybe to get me to stop nagging him, he said he would be willing to do a transference ceremony," the Witch cackled as Ida's eyes lit up with hope.
"Transference ceremony? Would that fix me?"
The witch knelt in front of Ida. "Well, yes and no. The ceremony would transfer your soul to another body. One much younger and in better shape. You get out of this aging shell," the Witch tapped Ida's chest between her sagging breasts.
"You would have a second chance at life. Isn't that what you want?" the Witch asked, looking deep into Ida's eyes.
Ida thought about it. She thought she had been in love with Albert when they had married, but over the years, they had drifted apart. Clare's birth hadn't helped things. He had wanted a son. His mother was overbearing, and she had caught the old bitch smiling at her recently as word of her impending death had spread amongst the staff.
"Yeah, I guess having a second chance would be nice," Ida admitted.
"Good. Now, there are just a couple of things. First, I will need to teach you the routine, and we don't have a lot of time. It has to be performed in a week, or we must wait another year."
"I don't have another year," Ida commented dejectedly.
"Right, I guess you don't," the old hag said, looking away from her prey for an instant to hide her glee.
"The other thing. My master, well, he's not human. I'm guessing you already knew that?"
Ida nodded.
"He doesn't do things for free," the Witch said expectedly.
"What does he want?" Ida was terrified to find out.
"Well, you will need a young woman's body to swap souls with. My master loves the taste of innocence stolen," the Witch licked her lips, her hands slipping over her own breasts.
"The next would be your husband and a close relative of his. The spell needs the energy released during an act of incest."
"I can get one of the maid's daughters. There are a few attractive ones that should work. After this is done, I will work out adopting them, so I have access to my wealth."
Without batting an eye, "He can have Albert, and since he has always been a mommy's boy, he can have his bitch of a mother as well."
Ida thought it would take some explaining to Clare how she would suddenly have a sister, but she knew her daughter would not make waves after the tragedy of her parents and grandmother's deaths.
"I'm afraid you don't understand. The young woman must be related to you by blood, Ida. You can't shift your sins onto someone you are not related to. Do you have anyone you can trade?"
Ida thought about it, feeling squeezed between certain death in a few short days or giving her family over to a demon to play with for eternity. She had no other living female relatives that she knew of other than Clare.
Seeing Ida's struggle, the old witch asked, "Will using Clare as the innocent be a problem?"
Until the witch said a relative had to be used, it hadn't bothered Ida much. Stealing Clar's life, well, it wasn't fair, but neither was dying.