Work Text:
Somewhere, probably near Naples, there is a journal, goatskin parchment pages, black ink in curving letters. Every spell Beatrisia Catardi ever cast, she wrote down for Lucia and Clara to remember.
Then again, maybe there is no journal. Clara and Lucia knew well enough what their mother was doing; Clara lived because of spells Beatrisia cast. The townspeople knew, too, for the same reason, and they told their children, and the children told their children. The priest in the next town? He would have called for Beatrisia's death, had he known she was a witch before the hellhounds tore her apart. He never heard that Beatrisia's daughters were witches, which was fortunate for them. The priest after him, and the one after that, their tolerance could not be counted upon. Maybe the journal was burned to preserve the life of its current owner.
Probably it was. Else it has been forgotten. Certainly no one knows to attribute something Beatrisia learned from the demon she dealt with, something Beatrisia told her daughters she had discovered herself, to Beatrisia instead of to Albert Schatz.