Consider it globalization of the supernatural: Thanks to the proliferation of the internet, the Romanian witch community—also known as the vrăjitoare—has migrated their ancient practice onto the web. Using social media to livestream rituals or to video chat with clients for fortune readings, witch entrepreneurs are better able to grow their business using self-referential devices (clothing, jewelry, idols) to effectively market the storied mysticism of Roma women to searching souls.

Members of the vrăjitoare learn the craft from their mothers at age 7, after careful observation of whether they are capable of continuing the tradition. Other witches claim they were born with a "gift" from God that enables them to communicate with divine energy. Only women are able to join the vrăjitoare. Witchcraft is a respected (and feared) profession in Romania, a country where the president is known to wear purple on certain days to ward off evil. The practice is even regulated: In 2011, a new law required the vrăjitoare to pay a 16 percent income tax, the same as any other self-employed Romanian citizen. The response was twofold. Some supported the tax, arguing that it established witchcraft as a verifiable profession, while others angrily threw poisonous mandrake plants into the Danube River.

In 2013, Slovakian photographer Lucia Sekerková Bláhová discovered the vrăjitoare practice when watching a documentary on the Qatari news channel Al Jazeera. Bláhová employed the help of ethnologist Ivana Šusterová, who specializes in the culture of the Wallachian Roma people, to help gain access to the vrăjitoare for her eponymous photo series. Bláhová contacted witches she found online to arrange visits using their personal websites or Facebook pages. Taking a cue from Šusterová, Bláhová wore traditional Roma clothing and observed certain customs to gain the vrăjitoare's trust in order to photograph them. "Mostly, it was all about making a good first impression, being honest to them," Bláhová explains. "Sometimes, you need good negotiating skills."

Negotiating is central to the vrăjitoare business. Witches don't post prices for their services on the internet, the understanding being that cost will be incurred based on services rendered. Typically, clients meet with the witch for a "diagnosis," which Bláhová says costs between 10 and 20 euros. The remedy, however, comes at another expense. As one witch told Bláhová, "Some [clients] give me 50 euros and some people give me 500 euros because they like my honesty."

Bláhová says most of the magic rituals the vrăjitoare perform are intended to restore health or ignite romance, although some services are aimed to do harm. Many of the women are under increasing pressure to specialize their practice, especially in an era when every witch can have a web presence. "Women said they have been picking flowers in secret places, always in wild nature, far away from civilization, usually during the sunrise," Bláhová says. "The more interviews we had with them, the more we got a feeling of a kind of performance for their clients or a kind of competition between the women." Bláhová says some women, especially older witches, were concerned with how the internet made witchcraft more accessible, pointing out that some younger members of the vrăjitoare were sharing the steps of their secret rituals on Facebook.

Still, most of the vrăjitoare maintain that all business is good business. "When you would expect something mystical, there is a young witch with iPhone in her hand taking a selfie picture before a ritual for her vrăjitoare Facebook profile," recounts Šusterová, a Slovakia-based ethnologist. "Because of the internet, the work of vrăjitoare is much easier and more available to clients."

More Great WIRED Stories