Near the back of the ledger was a log of names and dollar amounts, and I remembered that I was supposed to credit Lucille for the herbs she was going to pick up later. I searched until I found “Lucille Paris” and penned in a hundred dollars with the date. I set the book aside, found a pair of wooden tongs, and fished out a few pieces of brimstone, sitting them on the scale.

“I don’t know of many uses for sulfur,” I said. “Wanna tell me about it?”

Isaac came over to the counter, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You can make a soap out of it. It kills mites on people and pets.” His voice was even, his words rehearsed.

“You have mites?” I asked. “Or your pet has mites?”

“My pet,” he said.

“A dog? A cat?” I didn’t think he was telling the truth.

He didn’t answer, but he chuckled. He studied me carefully, and then his gaze wandered to the shelves.

“You’ve come into possession of this place,” the man said. “What do you think it’s for?”

Here we go with the damn riddles. I sighed. “It’s an apothecary. Natural remedies.”

Isaac chuckled. “That’s part of it, yes. That’s the face that’s presented to the local community who has no idea what’s happening right under their noses.”

He sounded like he might actually give me some information that wasn’t a question wrapped in a riddle.

“You have many, many ingredients here,” he continued. “On their own, they’re useful for natural remedies, teas, soaks, and so on. But combined, they can be much more powerful.”

“Combined?” I asked, confused. “For what?”

“Any number of things. Combining what you’ve collected here, in the right way, can bring about changes in the real world.”

“Sounds like magic,” I said jokingly.

He didn’t laugh. “Yes, magic.”

“You’re serious?” It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him. How could I dismiss what he was saying when I knew what I could do?

“Humor me,” he said, scanning the shelves again. He gestured toward the cabinet with the poison herbs. “Wolfsbane root. And if you would be so kind as to provide me a copper dish?”

I hesitated for a moment, but my curiosity took over. I brought down the wolfsbane and fished around in the lower cabinets until I found a stack of shallow copper plates.

“Please place one root in the dish,” he said.

“You want me to do it?” I asked.

“Can you?” he asked, a ring of worry in his voice. “Circe could do it bare-handed. She’d built up an immunity over the years running the shop, but I noticed you didn’t touch the oleander. I thought . . .”