the smuggler’s bible

Albrecht

Albrecht drops his old copy of the Key of Solomon on the kitchen table and flips through the bookmarked pages until he finds the yellow post-it with a frowny face drawn across it in red sharpie.

“Use something heavy to weigh the pages down,” he says. “You know how it is when the Satan winds start blowin’ around.”

“Our other option, of course, is putting all this shit away and doing something else with our afternoon.”

“Goddamnit. Remember the talk we had about conviction?” Albrecht says, rummaging around in the cupboards for components. “Now, put your blood in this goblet.”