The Conjure Man's Cabin

A pipe in his teeth and a glint in his eye, he draws a dusty bottle from the cabinet. A pinch of that, a bit of this, some muttered words, and a drop of my blood. I pay him with a fifth of whiskey and a vow of silence.The Conjure Man guides me.Wild pinyon in the fireplace, ancient leather, copal and vetiver, mud and hay, potent spices simmering, twisted roots hung from the rafters, top shelf hooch, the very best pipe tobacco, and nothing but Appalachian wilderness for miles around.