Page 26 of No Surrender
Gabriella shook her head and muttered something under her breath in Spanish. “Boy, when you step in shit, it’s ankle-deep.”
“It’s a talent.”
“I’d say that it’s a curse, but that’s no laughing matter,” Gabriella replied. “Mijo.So much loss—how can you bear it?” She shook her head and touched her protective medallion that hung from a chain around her throat.
Simon shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“What do you need?” Gabriella asked.
“Protection hexes, spells, and amulets. I believe that a super-fan of the Slitter is out for blood, and Vic and I are on his list,” Simon confessed. “Beyond that, discernment magic. I’ve got to figure out who is sending dangerously hexed objects to people and break those curses.”
“You don’t do anything by halves, do you?” Gabriella made the sign of the cross. She muttered something under her breath that Simon didn’t quite catch, perhaps a prayer or incantation.
“Apparently not,” Simon replied with a sheepish smile.
Gabriella was quiet while she sipped her drink. “Many of the people who work in hospitality jobs are Latinos—that’s been true for a long time. Are any of your missing people from our community? Give me their names and I will ask around. People who might not talk to you will confide in me.”
Simon checked his list and wrote out the names that he thought might be a fit. “Thank you. This won’t bring the lost ones back, but it might give the families closure.”
“Don’t hope for much—a lot of folks just pass through a town like this on their way to somewhere else,” Gabriella warned him. “I might hit a dead end.”
Simon smiled. “Thank you for trying.”
Gabriella rose and rinsed out her cup. “I have no patience with people who prey on the vulnerable.” She gave Simon a shrewd look. “It seems to me you’re working three cases at once. The Slitter, the old disappearances, and whoever is sending the cursed objects. That last person is dangerous. They haven’t killed—yet. But I believe they are capable of doing so.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, too.”
“Come with me.”
Simon followed Gabriella into the botanica. He dogged her steps as she moved about the shop selecting items to fill a basket—some of which he recognized, and others that were a mystery. He trusted Gabriella to explain eventually.
She returned to the kitchen with a full basket and gestured for Simon to sit across from her.
“Now, we will make charms and hex bags—and I will give you the spells you asked for.”
“Do you know what kind of magic is used to connect the cursed objects to the recipient and link the long-ago misfortune to now? I’ve heard of ‘sympathetic magic,’ but never something quite this elaborate.”
Gabriella was quiet for a moment. “It is a matter of scale and power, but you have the essence of the concept. Like calls to like. There are two types of this magic—I think of them as being ‘forward’ and ‘back.’ With the backward magic, what is done to an object affects the person who once owned the item. So to burn a person, the witch would set a lock of hair on fire.”
Simon nodded. “That’s the principle behind ‘Voodoo dolls,’ right?”
Gabriella made a face. “Bastardized by Hollywood, but yes.” She drummed her fingers on the table as she thought. “What I think of as ‘forward’ magic is at work in the objects you mentioned. The curse doesn’t affect the baseball player—it touches the person who receives his card. The same with the poker chip. It’s trickier than the first kind.”
“Does it take more skill or just more power?” Simon wasn’t a witch, but he knew that even with his type of abilities, the line between native skill and raw power could make a difference.
“Depends on what the goal is,” Gabriella said. “For what you’ve described, some of both I’d wager. My guess is that your ‘copycat’ might have been an accomplice of the Slitter in some way. Maybe he saw things and didn’t report them—which he regards as actively helping. He admires the killer’s daring, which he lacks himself.”
“You’re sure it’s a man?”
Another shrug. “Women tend to kill for personal reasons. Men kill for sport. There are exceptions, of course. But my sense is that holds true in this.”
“I’d side with your ‘sense,’” Simon replied with a smile.
“You’re a good boy.” As she talked, Gabriella made hex bags, mixing dried leaves, small bones, gemstones, and other magical oddments. She tied the tiny burlap bags off with yarn that Simon could tell—even at a distance—had magic spun into it.
“These will fend off malicious magic, but they have a limited range,” she explained. “Carry them on your person. Their effectiveness wanes with distance.”
“Okay. What else?”
