A thin man in his mid-thirties was working in a dark bedroom, illuminated only by candles, concocting potions using herbs, botanicals, and oils.
‘Anise, for psychic abilities. Juniper berry, for power...’ he said, gently grinding and mixing, using a mortar and pestle.
Picking up a sharp knife and beginning to chop a clove of garlic, the man cut himself on hearing a violent knock at the door, as he was concentrating so hard.
Several drops of blood found their way into the mortar when he put the garlic in, but he didn’t notice, just wiped his hands, and went to open the door.
A tall, skinny black girl stood twitching and scratching on his doorstep.
‘Why did you have to knock like the police for?’ he asked, annoyed ‘And what’s wrong with you?’ he looked at her disgustedly.
‘I need a fix Darryl.’ she said, scratching herself her arm.
‘Come in then,’ he said, stepping aside and letting her in.