Free The Black Witch of Mexico by Colin Falconer Page A

it was about Batman and Santa Claus having a battle with some monsters that wanted to invade the earth. I gave it to him to read. And when he gave it back he’d graded it. I got a B-.”
    He waited for her to laugh.
    “That’s sad.”
    “It’s funny.”
    “I don’t get the joke,” she said and finished her coffee. She picked up her bag. “Let’s go to the witches’ market,” she said.
    “Witches’ market?”
    “It’s a market. With witches. What’s the matter? Don’t you want to go?”
    “Is it real?”
    “Of course. You are coming, aren’t you? It’s just a ten minute walk.”
    “Sure. Why not? I’d love to see a real witch. Will they cast a spell on me?”
    “Only if you ask them to,” she said. She didn’t smile.
     
     
     

Chapter 23 
     
    The Mercado de Sonora.
     
    It seemed surreal. Surely no one believed in witches any more, not in places where there were cars and Coca Cola hoardings and ATM machines. Witches were characters from the Middle Ages or Shakespeare.
    But all the accoutrements of black magic were here, laid out like fruit at the food market on Charles Street in Beacon Hill. There was grease-green candles, mysterious oils, little packets of herbs and powders promising la buena suerte , or health or success or love. Jesus hung on a cross above a green frog holding a sign that said: Bienvenidos. Welcome.
    Another sign on a wall above one of the shops announced: Consejero en ciencias ocultas .
    “Is that what I think it is?”
    She nodded. “There’s your first witch,” she said.
    The witch wore an open-necked shirt and a flat cap and he was smoking a cigarette. He looked like a cab driver.
    Adam read down the list of complaints the witch claimed he could cure; “Take away illnesses, bring back lost lovers, deliver good luck in business, remove spells, jinxes, sexual impotence.”
    The witch saw them staring and grinned at Adam and motioned him inside. Jamie shook her head and hurried him along.
    On every stall there were cures for cancer and for baldness, manuals on how to perform exorcism alongside children’s toys, Barbie dolls and Tinkerbell handbags. There was a bewildering range of charms, amulets and dolls.
    “What are these medicines?” he asked her.
    “That is dried rattlesnake--people take it to prevent cancer. That is dried skunk, it strengthens the blood.”
    “The chains of garlic?”
    “To protect against the evil eye.”
    “It’s like going back five hundred years.”
    “Some of the medicines are good; some of these people are herbalists. Others, you’re right, it’s just superstition. But as you can see, we Mexicans enjoy our superstitions. This is your competition!”
    “Does anyone ever get sick from all this crap?”
    “About ten years ago if you wanted an abortion you could come here and buy medicine you could use at home. It was very bad, there were girls bleeding to death. The police stopped it. But most are harmless--just love potions. You see that one? Atrapahombres - that’s a soap for making a man love you. The powder there is called Ven a mi - come to me - and that potion there is miel de amor - love honey.”
    “ Amansa guapos ?”
    “That is for taming handsome men. Perhaps I should buy some,” she said and kept walking.
    They came to a huge glass cage with a life-size doll of the Madonna with a child’s rattle at her feet. Beyond was the pet market: puppies in cages, iguanas, frogs, goats, turkeys. He couldn’t get any closer because of the stink. Even the vendors had masks over their faces.
    They turned and walked back through the Mercado. Despite himself he was fascinated. He pointed to a little packet called Jabon de Calarme.
    “What’s this, Elena?”
    “That’s soap. It’s called ‘Soap to Shut Me Up.” You give it to your wife. What did you call me?”
    He stared at her, confused. “What?”
    “You called me Elena.”
    “No, I didn’t.”
    “Yes, you did. Who’s Elena?”
    “No one.”
    “She must be