The aromas of burned hair, pine trees, clove, roses, and tobacco hung in the air. Air that had grown thick from years of desperate aspirations: some fulfilled, some fruitless, most of them malicious. It took more than the usual effort to move my body in its normal fashion; I experienced an underwater, heavy gravity feeling and grew light-headed. I was also afraid, fearful of falling under the negative and dark influences that through osmosis had permeated everything I laid eyes upon, including the stained wall, dirty floor, and cobwebbed ceiling.
There was a large glass case that displayed a variety of ritual robes, garments, hoods, and hats. Their colors, shapes, and insignias blasphemous and sacrilegious, in deliberate perversions of Christian and Jewish traditions. On a shelf were a selection of idols made in the different images of Satan, above which were a row of crosses nailed into place upside down.
On the walls there were painted astrological and occult symbols, mostly in black or red, and framed pictures, drawings, and charts of names, glyphs, spell recipes, and images of unknown dark saints.
There were lots and lots of candles of every size, color, and shape, the majority black and phallic, rendered in obscene dimension and detail.
Veronica casually told me that her aunt Myra was the owner of the shop. Myra inherited it from her master who had passed on five years ago. The one person working behind the counter was a small woman with mousy brown hair and tortoiseshell glasses. She presented no outer appearance of witch or satanist and showed no recognition of Veronica. She ignored us and was engrossed in the latest issue of Rolling Stone magazine, which featured Donny Osmond on its cover.
Veronica pulled a slim book off a shelf. She held it between her hands for a few seconds and closed her eyes. Then she handed it to me. The soft slick covers both front and rear were all black except for four or five Latin-seeming words. She put her hands over mine and pressed them all together with the book in the center of the sandwich.
“Can you feel its power?”
I tried to but I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything at all emanating from the book. Besides the heavy atmospheric pressure in the store, the only power I felt came from her and her alone—a magnetic polar pull and centrifugal force that I was helpless against. I held the book tightly, closed my eyes, and pretended to feel whatever it was she wanted me to feel. She laughed, took it from my hands, and put it back on the shelf.
“I want to buy you a gift. Is that okay?” she asked.
Anything was okay. Whatever she did, whatever she would ask of me, wherever she wanted to go, I was at her mercy. And though I was scared shitless in the narrow confines of the hellish little shop, it was still heaven to be by her side.
I wanted to hold her hand but was afraid of fucking things up. She hadn’t looked in my direction for over two weeks and I didn’t want to upset the delicate balance required to remain in her favor. I followed her to a long glass case that displayed an array of rings, pendants, amulets, crystals, bracelets, wands, and scepters. Some of the items looked like they were very expensive, made of gold or silver, and adorned with precious-looking stones and jewels.
“I want you to wait for me outside.”
“Okay.” I left without asking why. I tried to peek through the window but the heavy black curtains didn’t leave any crack for me to see what she was doing.
She emerged smiling after a few minutes and extended a little black box toward me. “For you.”
Inside the box was a small silver runic symbol attached to a fine metal chain. It had the shape of a capital Y but the bottom line extended all the way up, bisecting the v at the top and forming an upward-pointing trident.
She called it an Algiz and said it was a shield of protection that warded off evil. It also gave its wearer the ability to “channel one’s energies appropriately,” but she did not elaborate on what that meant or how I would go about doing so.
I wanted to ask her what she thought I needed protection from or what specific evil was being warded off, but all I could muster was “Thank you” as she fastened the clasp behind my neck. She then showed me the exact same symbol hanging from her own neck. I had never noticed it on her before.
“A very special person gave me mine. By giving you yours, I extend the chain of connection.”
“A very special person gave me mine too.” I meant it sincerely.
Her thoughtfulness and care opened something in me. As we walked toward Second Avenue my thoughts began to speed up. But instead of anxiety and confusion, my mind was infused with sharpness and clarity. Thoughts were coming fast but I was able to see them and digest them one by one as they passed through my mind. It was like I was decoding the mysterious logic that made one thought lead to and give way to the next, the mechanism behind my mind revealing itself for the first time in my life.
Everything made sense—the shape of her eyes and the lines of mascara around it were perfect cosmic geometry. The molecules that made up her scarf vibrated at the right speed and frequency to create the only color that could possibly express who she was at this very moment. The deep violet fabric twisted around her long neck, not slack and not tight—just how it should be. Exactly where it belonged. Just like me.
nineteen
I stood up and it felt like I was on a boat. I took a deep breath. My legs
