The right-side wall was lined with shelves of labeled merchandise, including spiritual candles in many colors, set in tall jars of decorated glass with long wax wicks. Plastic jars contained different spices, herbs, grains, roots, all clearly labeled. Other shelves held books, pamphlets, affirmations, stones, prayer cards. In the most fragrant corner of the shop were the spiritual and magical oils, soaps, resins, and incense.

A smaller shelf was reserved for passion oils and lucky love spells. Also: various eye-catching vagina- and penis-shaped candles. Nearer to eye level, candles and bath spells promised healing, “jinx breaking,” hex removal, application of the “evil eye,” potions for love and sexual attraction, and money drawing. Next to candles offering good luck and fortune were others designed to resolve legal problems and court issues. Red wax candles in the form of praying figures were labeled ANCESTOR OFFERINGS.

Odessa moved back near the front, fascinated. One-stop shopping for all your mystical needs. Here was a table altar of “La Madama,” apparently the spirit of female slaves, depicted as a darkly black woman posed holding a broom, wearing a headdress with an open bowl balanced on top for offerings, next to a bouquet of marigolds. This display was not for sale, but was instead a devotional station. The table surface held two silk-lined dishes containing bits of bread, mints, coins, wilted rose petals, and neatly knotted dollar bills. A hand-lettered sign admonished customers:

Leave your offering.

Get a blessing.

Do not touch anything here.

Odessa heard voices and realized Blackwood had engaged the counter woman at the rear of the store. Odessa moved toward them quickly.

Blackwood said, “We are looking for the owner of this botanica.”

The counter woman said, “I told you, the owner is not available. I can help you with anything you see here.”

“What is in the back room here?” he asked.

She kept smiling. “That is a private office, and where we do readings.”

“We would like a reading, then,” said Blackwood. “My associate, Miss Hardwicke, would like a spiritual consultation.”

“Consultations and divinations are by appointment only.”

“Is there someone ahead of us?”

“No…” said the counter woman.

“I see your prices on the wall behind the counter.” Blackwood pulled a wad of cash from his trouser pocket and peeled two fifties off the top. “Here you are.”

Odessa said, “Mr. Blackwood, may I speak with you a minute?”

The woman received the bills and looked past Odessa to the front of the store. She spoke what sounded like a derivation of Creole. The old woman rose slowly from her folding chair and closed and locked the front door, flipping a sign that read, PRIVATE READING, PLEASE COME BACK IN 15 MINUTES.

Odessa said to Blackwood, “I don’t want a reading.”

“Come, come,” he said, eager to get into the back room.

The old woman shuffled past Odessa, smelling of ash. She waved Odessa on with an arthritic hand, her robe swishing along the floor.