Through dense trees John Law espies smoke, bubbles, and three stooped figures ablaze with psychedelic ash. With trembling hands Law manages to jot a few impressions inside a well-worn notebook:

Three witches surround a cauldron,
Ammunition mixed with Sodom,
"Brew on," says one. "Use no caution,
Once these frothy bubbles are gone,
Our creation shall enthrall them!"

Loud laughter, entirely without mirth, cracks through the forest as Law ducks behind a poplar. Before beating a swift retreat the detective sees, or thinks he sees, a slim... Show more