The bell jangled as he entered the shop. Such a discordant sound. Mammon preferred the screams of a live victim to announce visitors. A cacophony of smells assaulted the senses, easily ignored. What he did find interesting was the layers of spells. So many of them, most meant to shield.
A pity for the owner that they failed.
An old crone bustling behind a table noticed him and squinted with rheumy eyes. "The sign says closed."
"I know." As if that applied to him. The door slammed shut, the lock re-engaging. "I am looking for someone."
"Don't deal in people. Just ingredients." The old woman swept a gnarled hand, a slight tremor in the limb. Frailty or fear? He hoped the latter.
"We both know that's not entirely true." He tsked. "The person I'm seeking is a client of yours. Recently her
