Molly does as she’s told, dumping the jewelry, money, and whatnot into the bowl. The blonde bombshell can feel the crone’s eyes on her, coveting every curve and swell of her ripe body. You’d think the girl was buck naked instead of fully clothed.
When she turns around the hag is right in her face. Their lips almost touch. Bosom brushes against bosom. Molly jumps back reflexively, bumping into the battered dresser behind her.
The old woman laughs; it’s the shrieking laugh of a madwoman. Her foul breath is a sour stench. She has crooked, scum-covered teeth.
“I hope you haven’t changed your mind about the rest.”
“No … You can have your way with me as you like …”
“Good … A deal’s a deal …”
Haggis grabs the girl’s wrist and drags her over to a goblet setting upon a stained table covered in runes. Before the girl can react the witch pulls a dagger from underneath the table and cuts the girl’s hand between the forefinger and the index finger.
Molly screams out in pain, but she’s can’t break the old woman’s grip. Haggis begins to chant something. Molly feels faint; she almost swoons.
“Say the words … Say the words …” Haggis commands.
As if she’s in someone else’s dream, and someone else is speaking in her voice, Molly does as she’s told.
“I want vengeance. I want vengeance upon those who have wronged me. Avenge me, Pumpkinhead!”
As Molly’s blood runs into the goblet, Haggis mixes something in with the spent blood, something arcane and quite horrid. Molly swoons like a ragdoll into the old lady’s waiting arms. Haggis helps the girl drink the goblet’s hellish mixture.