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“This way.” Patricia consulted the map in her hand. “I’ve only been here once before, but I’m fairly certain De Santos has a shop around this corner.”
They turned into an even narrower street. The buildings rose above them, balconies poking out into the street over their heads. There was graffiti scrawled on the walls, and the stalls seemed smaller and darker somehow.
“Mercado de las Brujas,” Joe told her. “Witches’ market.”
Julia ogled the stalls and felt her eyes bug out. Hanging from the awnings were hundreds of dried creatures.
“Llama foetuses,” Joe said. “They bury them in the foundation of buildings as an offering to Pachamama. For protection.”
Julia jerked when she spotted jars of dried frogs.
“For Aymara rituals,” Joe said. “The regional tribe.”
There were dried snakes and turtles. Jars with strange concoctions. Statues that looked a lot like voodoo dolls. There were long pieces of string holding hundreds of feathers. Small packets of various powders. And bundles of cheap beaded necklaces, like the ones they handed out for Mardi Gras.
“See the things that look like toys or key rings?” Joe pointed at the kitsch objects. There was everything from baby dolls to fake money. “They’re buried along with the foetus offering. They represent what people want Pachamama to bless them with.”
“This is all very dark,” Julia said.
“This is the tourist part, babe. People use this stuff, but it’s the milder version of what’s available up some of these alleys. Trust me, that you don’t want to see.”
Julia took a step closer to Joe. She was equal parts fascinated and frightened.
“It’s so unhygienic,” she told Joe. “All those dead, dried things. The bacteria alone must be shocking.”
Joe burst out laughing and let go of her hand long enough to wrap his arm around her shoulders.
“What’s so funny?” Julia was torn between removing his arm and letting it stay where it was. She hated that she felt a whole lot safer while plastered against him.
“Nothing, nothing’s funny.”
Julia frowned up at him, about to call him on his obvious lie when her gran stopped dead in front of them.
“That way.” She pointed into a dark alley that was so narrow they would have to walk single file.
“You sure?” Joe said.
“Yes, I recognise the alley. And the stink.” She scrunched her nose. “I’m fairly certain that smell is from the dried animals they grind into powder.”
Julia stared at her grandmother in horror before looking up at Joe. “I need a mask.”
She was grateful he didn’t mock her. “Pull the neck of your shirt up over your mouth.”
“That would look stupid.”
“And wearing a mask wouldn’t?” her grandmother said.
“Stop,” Joe told Patricia. “You have your worries, Julia has hers. Keep your opinion to yourself.”
Patricia’s eyes went wide, but she nodded once at Joe. Patricia reached into her handbag and came out with a silk scarf. “Wrap this around your neck and you can pull it up to cover your mouth.”
“Thanks, Gran.” Julia gratefully took the scarf and did exactly that. All the while, her cheeks were burning at how stupid she was to do it. Nobody else seemed bothered that they’d be breathing in the dust of ground-up dead things.
“You good?” Joe said.
She nodded, but couldn’t look at him.
“That’s better than a mask.” Joe leaned in until his mouth was at her ear. “Although that silk scarf is giving me all sorts of ideas on other ways we could use it later. Private ways.”
