It's Witchcraft

"Did it work?" she said.

"Here, take this," Merricat said in answer, passing the basket to her; it was full, and very heavy.

Breathless, Arradia brought it in, and Merricat followed after, shedding her wet cloak as soon as she was in the door and not minding that this left her naked.

Nobody else was up, it seemed, and they went straight to the kitchen, where Arradia had tea and a few other things prepared. Merricat poured a cup and held it against her body with both hands to warm herself.

Arradia couldn't help poking the kerchief in the basket and peering at what was underneath. She smiled and even cooed; "I can't believe it worked," she said. "I mean, I knew you could do it--but still. Is it really him?"

"The one and only," Merricat said, pleased. "Sister--meet Peter Quint."

Settled in the bottom of Merricat's basket was a newborn: fat, pink, swaddled, and dozing. Most of the sacred letters had rubbed off of his new skin, but a little stray writing remained, including the distinct imprint of one vowel on his forehead.

More than anything in the world, Quint had wanted to be young again. It was the only thing he really wanted, desperately and deeply.

And Merricat had promised she could make him young. HOW young she hadn't specifically said--but then, he never asked either.

"Such a cute little thing," Arradia said. She was grinning like a cheshire cat, as she often did. "It's almost a shame..."

"Almost," Merricat said.

On the counter next to the stove where the tea simmered, Arradia had laid everything out they'd need: the butcher block, the copper basin, and the very old knives, the ones that had been in the family for generations.

Because of course, Peter Quint had never been baptized. He was not a god-fearing man.

Gently, Merricat picked the sleeping babe up in her arms. "You'll be flying to Brocken with us for sure this year, sister," Arradia said. "The Black Man will give you everything you've ever wanted."

"Yes," Merricat said. "And what a terrible thing that is."

But it was too late to turn back now.

As swiftly as she could without waking the baby, Merricat set to sharpening the knives.

They didn't really need it, but above all, a witch takes pride in her work...