Sela was asleep, dreaming of dancing witches and devils.
The matriarch loomed over her naked form, her face a mask of blood and paint. The older woman, also naked save for a headdress of antlers, lifted a bowl of dark black blood above Sela's head.
"With this baptism, you take into your heart the strength of our lord. Do you accept the responsibility such power bears?" asked the matriarch. The drumbeat of the witches' circle overpowered the inner rhythm of Sela's heart, joining her body to that of the coven. Incense burned in a circle of braziers; the smoke carried the scent of cloves and honey.
Sela clasped her hands in front of her chest, her gaze turned down. "I accept," she said, and the matriarch turned the bowl over. Warm blood cascaded over Sela, dyeing her hair and body red. Whe
