The boiling cauldron poured off rancid smoke. The smell didn’t bother Mary much, but Meredith always waited outside during this process. She’d never gotten used to the odor of rotten eggs. “Sister, what do you see?” Meredith called through the open front door, a wisp of coal-black hair sticking to her shriveled lip. Inside the cabin, Mary stirred a vat of molten silver liquid. She thought it looked pretty, like a pot of melted rings and bracelets. “Nothing yet, Sister,” Mary