Gods of Jade and Shadow - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,74

like them? Girl, are you allergic to them? Say that isn’t so.”

Casiopea shook her head. Hun-Kamé did not bother speaking. Realizing that her jests were not amusing them, the woman let out a loud hmpf.

“Well, then, if that is your wish…Seven drops of blood is the price. Will you pay?”

“I…I will,” Casiopea said.

Casiopea had been standing behind Hun-Kamé, his second shadow. Now Candida beckoned Casiopea closer. She hesitated, took a few steps, brushing by vases stuffed with flowers.

“Let me see. A daisy by the side of the road. Closer, closer. And who are you?”

“It hardly matters who I am,” Casiopea replied, irritated by the woman’s grandmotherly tone. Besides, it was true. She was the token he used to pay for his passage.

“Modest too. Sit, sit right next to me.”

The woman patted a chair behind the counter. Casiopea did not sit there, instead leaning against the counter, raising her head, a small act of defiance.

“You’re too thin, girl. Why, you’re almost all bones,” Candida said. “Oh, look at those dark circles under your eyes. Are you not sleeping well?”

“Don’t play with me. Have your blood,” Casiopea replied, extending her hand, wrist up, like she’d done with Hun-Kamé.

“You’ll lose your sweetness if you keep like this,” the woman said, clicking her tongue, disapproving. “Come here, lamb.”

Realizing there was no point in refusing, Casiopea went behind the counter and carefully sat down on the empty chair. The old woman caught her chin with one hand and squeezed it a little, like she imagined a fussing aunt might do, though Casiopea would not know—her aunts had paid scant attention to her.

The old woman released her and leaned back.

“Seven drops is no small thing. Seven hours and the dreams youth dream, then. I can tell there are lots of dreams in that head of yours. Will you give me the seven drops?”

“I…suppose.”

“You must be certain. We can’t have halves here,” the witch said, sounding serious.

“I’m sure,” Casiopea said.

The woman smiled. She grabbed her pincushion and procured a white porcelain dish from somewhere under the counter, setting them side by side. She gestured to Casiopea.

“You want me to prick myself with that?”

“Well, darling, some people prefer thorns and it can be arranged, but isn’t this much more efficient? Mmm?”

Casiopea frowned, but she grabbed the pincushion and pulled out a long silver pin. She held it carefully and pressed it against her little finger. Blood welled. She let a drop fall on the dish. Another fell. The rest she had to squeeze. When she was done she handed the witch the dish with the blood.

“Here,” Casiopea said. “It’s yours.”

“Thank you, dear,” the witch said, setting the dish aside. “You are a tiny, darling thing. Come, I’ll give you something too, for your troubles. How about a lavender rose?”

The woman reached toward a shelf where bunches of flowers were kept and grabbed a single rose, handing it to Casiopea.

“For your sweetheart, eh?” Candida said, smiling. “And now, you rest, and I hope those dreams are sweet too.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Casiopea said, grabbing the rose. She had no sweetheart and no use for flowers.

The old woman kept smiling at her. Casiopea felt exhausted. She sat back, and as she did she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

The road to Xibalba was a ribbon of black ink, staining the land. The land itself was a gray desert, and when Casiopea turned her head to look at the heavens she realized there were no stars, no moon. Yet the land was bathed in a soft, hazy light and here and there, by the road, she saw plants that looked more like glowing anemones than any ordinary vegetation, shining and shifting as she passed them.

Above her something huge flew, flapping its wings and stirring a wicked breeze. When Casiopea noticed this, she grew afraid and hurried down the road. There were stone pillars at certain intervals, and she crouched next to one of them, scanning the sky. But the flying creature had vanished.

Casiopea, realizing she was alone, began walking the road once more. It had no end. At length she came upon a lake that glowed an eerie blue, as if all the stars had fallen into the water and nestled in its bottom. She stretched out a hand and touched the surface of the lake, its luminescence rising, as if to meet her hand. She looked at her fingers, bathed in the blue glow, and smiled.

It was then she noticed a drop of blood falling into