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“Now that I consider it . . . I do have a knack for dancing naked in the woods—with the beasts and devils, of course. It’s hard to find the time, what with all the sheep I shepherd, but when the full moon rises, I do what I can.” She smiled brightly at Judith. “Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.”
The dead walk among the living. This is the first truth, and the most important.
Her rage was such that she felt it would never be sated unless Bethel was brought to its knees.
“Good people don’t bow their heads and bite their tongues while other good people suffer. Good people are not complicit.”
True evil, Immanuelle realized now, wore the skin of good men. It uttered prayers, not curses. It feigned mercy where there was only malice. It studied Scriptures only to spit out lies.
It was not the Prophet who bore Bethel, bound to his back like a millstone. It was all of the innocent girls and women—like Miriam and Leah—who suffered and died at the hands of men who exploited them. They were Bethel’s sacrifice. They were the bones upon which the Church was built.
the heart of Bethel itself, that made certain every woman who lived behind its gate had only two choices: resignation, or ruin.
The war between witch and Prophet, Church and coven, darkness and light, would wage on and on until the day there would be nothing and no one left to mourn.

