She decided not to. “Took you long enough. Where were you? Havin’ a shot with the old judge, or what was left of him once I left him dried up and spent?”
Sam didn’t laugh. He stood there like an erect corpse. This wasn’t the feared downtown barrister, wordless, a strain in his eyes reminiscent of the old days of a near- gone and soul-lost man.
Sweet Mary didn’t break the silence. She let quiet do what it did and come back to her. Listening to its mes- sage was a skill she’d learned from the old witch precep- tors up north.
In the dark of moonless desert nights, they told a young girl to listen to the silence in the presence of dis- traught men. In it, lay the essence of the man. Silence held the message of what a man was made of and what could be done with him.
Forlornly, Sam sat down on the bed beside her. She hated this, hated the forlorn and therefore pathetic …show more content…
She was the one and only who had survived beyond the normal lot of seventy years accorded to Las Brujas of Aztlan. For more than five centuries, she had presided over gather- ings of brujas. The arrival of the Cross-and-Crown of Spain had ushered in terrifying spirits. With each gen- eration of brujas, Sweet Mary’s lethal nature swelled.
La Michté, Goddess of ruination and decay, grew deadlier.
The three others made their way to their respective places on smaller logs before the roaring fire. Out of respect, the younger two waited for the oldest bruja, Geralda with her hip-length white hair floating around her shoulders, to lower her elfin self onto a flattened rock. Even though the most aged, Geralda’s wicked magic exerted a violence seen in women half her age.
With hardly a furrow on her brow, her powers burned white hot. A flick of her right index finger and boulders exploded, leaving nothing but a neat little cone-shaped pile of dust. What she could do to flesh and blood was beyond description, a man or woman would be present one second and the next
Sam didn’t laugh. He stood there like an erect corpse. This wasn’t the feared downtown barrister, wordless, a strain in his eyes reminiscent of the old days of a near- gone and soul-lost man.
Sweet Mary didn’t break the silence. She let quiet do what it did and come back to her. Listening to its mes- sage was a skill she’d learned from the old witch precep- tors up north.
In the dark of moonless desert nights, they told a young girl to listen to the silence in the presence of dis- traught men. In it, lay the essence of the man. Silence held the message of what a man was made of and what could be done with him.
Forlornly, Sam sat down on the bed beside her. She hated this, hated the forlorn and therefore pathetic …show more content…
She was the one and only who had survived beyond the normal lot of seventy years accorded to Las Brujas of Aztlan. For more than five centuries, she had presided over gather- ings of brujas. The arrival of the Cross-and-Crown of Spain had ushered in terrifying spirits. With each gen- eration of brujas, Sweet Mary’s lethal nature swelled.
La Michté, Goddess of ruination and decay, grew deadlier.
The three others made their way to their respective places on smaller logs before the roaring fire. Out of respect, the younger two waited for the oldest bruja, Geralda with her hip-length white hair floating around her shoulders, to lower her elfin self onto a flattened rock. Even though the most aged, Geralda’s wicked magic exerted a violence seen in women half her age.
With hardly a furrow on her brow, her powers burned white hot. A flick of her right index finger and boulders exploded, leaving nothing but a neat little cone-shaped pile of dust. What she could do to flesh and blood was beyond description, a man or woman would be present one second and the next