Page 44 of Andalusia Dogs
“You’ll what? Run to your friends? The police? I imagine your levitation story would make for a compelling anecdote. Tell them there’s a male witch flying up and down the Gran Via looking for the perfect pair of red shoes. I would have had the apartment building propped up on chicken legs, but it’s so expensive to do that in Madrid these days.”
Alex flinched as Jago took hold of his wrist, but didn’t pull away.
“Alex? It is a huge deal for me to reveal this to you. It’s only disbelief that keeps people like me safe, even in the twentieth century, at least in Spain. There’s a reason I’ve been living abroad all this time.”
“Abroad?” Alex shook his head, every doubt that had occurred to him in the short time he’d known Jago now crowding his brain, demanding to be heard. “That’s another thing that doesn’t make sense. You look… what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?My age. But you talk about years spent in Mexico and Colombia. You use words like ‘abroad.’ How old are you, really? You said thirty-eight, but I don’t believe you!”
“If I said that magick helps me appear younger than my years, would it release me from having to contrive a number for you? I am old enough to have become the man I am now. That man, Alex, would like very much to help you, if you’ll let me.”
“Help me how?”
“I’m still an admirer of the arts. I have an eye. I have money. I have the trust of your Joanna too, I think.”
“The trust ofmyJoanna?” Alex blinked several times, but Jago’s expression remained earnest. “You willnottell Joanna or Vicente what you just told me.”
“What else must I do to win your confidence? To convince you of how rare it is for someone to earn mine? I understand if my nature frightens you. I’ll understand if you choose to leave. I’ve cast no love spells on you, nor made you drink any potions. You’re not a prisoner, Alex. I want us to be clear on this. As for the levitation…” Jago shrugged, guilt at last seeping into his face. “I wanted you to experience something extraordinary, and it blew up in my face. I’m sorry.”
In a more playful mood, Alex might have pointed out that nothing had blown up for either of them, but the moment had passed. “And what about the pigeon? The taxidermy story? Youdidbring a dead pigeon inside.”
“I did,” Jago admitted, standing and walking over to a large oak closet. He propped open both doors, revealing four shelves stocked with bottles, pots and jars of every shape and size. He carefully placed the ointment he’d used to massage Alex on the lowest shelf, and stepped aside, letting Alex get a good look at the pantry of horrors that included a jar full of bird’s claws and what looked to be a pickled frog surrounded by seaweed. Alex checked out once he spied the jar full of tiny eyeballs. “I’m not above shopping for supplies, but many of the necessary ingredients must be sourced first-hand. I’m happy to describe them for you, though I see by the look on your face that we are not going to share this interest. At least, not yet.”
“I…” Alex began, still trying not to gag. “Disinterested is not the word I’d use.”
“Horrified, then? I can accept that.”
“Oh, come on, man. You’ve got to admit this is a lot to drop on someone.”
“For both of us.” Jago closed the cupboard and locked it. “I said that to you the moment I knew we would be having this conversation. I learned very early what my gifts made me, especially in Andalusia.”
“Abrujo?”
“In plainest, most reductive terms. In Mexico, that word has other, more positive connotations. You must go. A beautiful culture, Mexico. Catholic faithful? Yes, but they celebrate death for what it brings to life. Thebrujoand thebrujaare revered for the wisdom they bring to a community. Not that I was open about things, you understand, but I’d at least no fear of growing my talents. Before that? In Colombia, magick is accepted as a silent yet active part of everyday life. It offered me the perfect place to observe how it worked until I was ready to embrace it myself. Such ways we’ve lost here. A great nation with one of the richest histories on Earth, lasting hundreds and hundreds of years. Visigoths, Moors… and what are we known for? The genocide of the New World, a murderous Inquisition, and a miserable dictator who murdered poets to make his point.”
“So why don’t you go back?”
A sly smile made Alex wonder if Jago was about to make some flippant remark, but none came. “The most valuable thing I’ve learned in Colombia, Mexico, Spain, or the realms we traverse beyond—”
“The what, now?”
“Let’s come back to that. The most important thing is to follow the power. When you feel something—a force, a person, a place—drawing you, to resist is to invite disaster. Or, at least, to invite stagnation, which is its own disaster for a curious mind.”
“If you plan on making me your student, I’m not interested.”
Jago’s boisterous laugh filled the tiny room as he put his clothes back on. “If it were only so simple, I might have taken a companion long ago. No, Alex, you’re not my acolyte. I desire nothing more than to see those who catch lightning in a bottle fulfil their potential. It empowers me.”
“Empowers?” Alex asked, reaching for his own pile of clothes. “You mean it fuels your magic?”
“Again, reductive, but astute. I nourish them as they nourish me. You’re familiar with the rule of three, of course?”
Alex’s elementary witchcraft was rustier than his French.
“Whatever you put out into the universe, returns to you threefold. A wise caution against casting spells of destruction, anger, manipulation, or vengeance. I grow my powers through creation, Alex, just like yours. It is merely a different kind.”
Fully dressed, Jago swung open the door that had admitted them to his sacred space. His chamber of potions, spells, meditation, conjuring, incantation and… who knew what else. “I’d invite you upstairs, but there is somewhere else I need to take you.”
“Somewhere else? Jago, I’m very tired. It’s almost…” He trailed off, realising he’d no idea what time it was.
“Early enough. Please?”
