Gunpowder and salt-crusted leather, casks of scorched spices, sweet rum, and a clink of golden amber.
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Inspired by the opening pages of Circle of Blood. The scent of vice and darkness: flashing neon, oil-tinged petrichor, fading perfume, smeared lipstick, and the faintest touch of gunpowder residue.
Soft, well-worn black leather, hemp, and rosin.
Agony and ecstasy: black leather and damp red rose.
“So who were the guys that grabbed me in the parking lot? Mister Wood and Mister Stone? Who were they?” The lights of the car illuminated the winter landscape. Wednesday had announced that they were not to take freeways because he didn’t know whose side the freeways were on, so Shadow was sticking to back roads. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t even sure that Wednesday was crazy.
Wednesday grunted. “Just spooks. Members of the opposition. Black hats.”
“I think,” said Shadow, “that they think they’re the white hats.”
“Of course they do. There’s never been a true war that wasn’t fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe that they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous.”
“And you?” asked Shadow. “Why are you doing what you’re doing?”
“Because I want to,” said Wednesday. And then he grinned. “So that’s all right.”
Gunpowder residue, patent leather, pomade, and aftershave.