Chapter 7
What happened after Angelica ran away from the witchmark ceremony?
She'd run through the woods, trying to get as far away from the gathering as fast as possible, then she'd collapsed on that fallen log. The ancient witch had found her...almost as if she'd been waiting for her.
The old woman felt like a kindred spirit—someone used to being ostracized and ignored...and lonely. Therefore, Angelica felt she could trust her. Otherwise, who the hell would walk deeper into the woods with a stranger? Someone looking to wind up dead, that's who.
But Angelica had not died. In fact, she felt much more alive than she could remember feeling in years!
After walking for some time, twisting on a dark path that made little sense to Angelica, the two of them had arrived at the Witch's home—the cave. The cave where everything changed.
"You can call me Mab, my dear," she said at the mouth of the cave, where only a faint, flickering light could be seen. "Now, come. Let's head inside out of the chill and untangle this little snag, yes?"
If Angelica had felt any hesitation at that moment, it was easily overpowered by the temptation of getting her witchmark. Mab knew what she was doing—she'd done it many, many times before, and, despite her ancient appearance, she would do it many more times before she left this earth.
The mouth of the cave, about six feet by six feet, opened inside to a high ceiling with stalactites hanging from above. Angelica did not notice the bones hanging amongst them from the ceiling, but had she looked, and if she had known what she was looking at, she would've been able to recognize all sorts of bones from different creatures. And human bones, too. Mab smiled as Angelica followed her through the cave, dimly lit by small balls of witchfire nestled into little crevices, painstakingly carved into the wall.
"You are not the first this has happened to, my dear," Mab crooned, her raspy voice full of sympathy. "Sometimes the 'mark needs a little...help to appear. A little persuading."
"But why didn't the rest of the witches tell me that?" Angelica felt tears prickling in her eyes, but she wasn't sad. She was angry. No, she was livid. Her fingernails had been digging into her palms for the entire walk—she'd be surprised if there *wasn't* blood on her palms by now. Slowly, she unclenched her fingers and forced them to stretch open. "They said a witchmark wasn't in my fate."
Mab didn't reply immediately. They had reached their destination, so she was taking a few moments to stoke the fire and gather some things on an old, rickety table. Baskets of dried herbs, small bottles of this and that, and other things she'd need.
"Long before you were born, my dear girl," she said, taking a seat on a wooden stool on one side of the table, "and likely before any of the others present at that gathering tonight were born, either, our magic was not so...limited, shall we say."
Angelica drew her brows together.
"There was no difference between light magic and dark magic," she continued. "It was all ONE magic. Come here."
It was as if Angelica could not help but obey. She took a few steps closer to Mab without even thinking about it.
"Your arm, my dear."
Angelica held out her arm obediently, and Mab sliced it with an ancient-looking black knife before Angelica could react.
"Ouch!" she cried. "What the fuck?!"
"Language, child!" Mab crowed. "Ha! We need your blood to bind the mark to you, of course."
Mab held Angelica's arm firmly as her blood dripped into a mortar that already held other ingredients. As soon as her blood fell into the stone bowl, it sizzled and steamed.
"Good," Mab said, smiling widely to reveal dark yellow teeth, black around the edges. "It is good! Now, wrap your arm up while I make your mark."
Angelica still wasn't 100% sure of everything that was going on right now, especially after Mab had used the obsidian knife on her, but she knew if there was even the slightest chance of getting a witchmark, she was going to take it. No matter what. She would do anything to get one.
Anything.
Mab was crooning something over the bowl as she ground the mixture with the pestle—it was still steaming.
"Lie down on the bed!" Mab suddenly shouted. "Remove your shirt."
"Excuse me?" Angelica sat on the edge of Mab's narrow cot, which was covered in animal skins. Take her top off??
"Do you want your mark or not?"
Angelica hesitated for only a second longer before sliding the top of her dress down to her waist and removing her bra. Mab hovered over her with the mortar and an ash twig, which she then used to start drawing a design on Angelica's left breast.
Any thoughts of it being a silly situation immediately left Angelica's mind when Mab started chanting in a strange voice—
"MAGNE DAEMON AB IMO,l
OBSECRO TE—
HANC PUELLAM SIGILLO TUO CICATRICE INCUTE,
TUM TENEBRAS INVOCARE POSSIT!"*
She repeated the chant over and over until she was done drawing the design on Angelica. Then, in a flash of painful, molten heat, the mixture disappeared, leaving behind a mark that had the darkness of a tattoo, but the slight sheen of scar tissue.
"There," Mab said, wiping her sweaty brow. "It is done. A word of caution, however—do not let this mark be seen by other witches. They will know you have been connected to all magic, not just the light magic."
"Does this make me more powerful?"
Mab smiled at Angelica. "Oh, yes. Yes, my dear girl. You'll have more power than you'll know what to do with."
Angelica was too happy hearing that to miss the greedy glint in Mab's eyes—all she could think about was getting ahead of Jezebelle.
________
*Roughly: O Great Demon from Below,
I beseech you—
Mark this girl with your seal,
So she may invoke the Darkness!
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