Santa Muerte – Mexico City, Central America
Shadow and Wednesday make their way along a winding pathway where on either side of them they gaze upon an assembly of sights both alluring and macabre at the same time. From blanched stone angels to carved headstones made of marble, concrete, or granite. To decorative flower beds and grave stones with contributions of wreaths and freshly picked flowers in various states of decay. The deafening silence is interrupted by the rhythmic crunching of the loose pebbles being compressed beneath the soles of their feet.
"This is one of the largest cemeteries in all of Mexico City. The person you're going to meet is the owner of this graveyard. Unlike some of the deities you have met, this one in particular likes to keep herself grounded by being in close proximity with her followers." Said Wednesday with a slight upbeat tone in his voice. "Hiding in plain sight if you will."
Shadow's gaze softens when he can't help but notice a particular burial plot in which a young woman is buried in a combined plot with her four children. Her age of death puts her at only thirty-three years old, and the age of her children range from just ten years old to twelve months. According to the date of their burial it was only recent.
"I don't see how a deity can maintain their followers if they aren't even alive to pray or pay tribute."
Wednesday chuckles. "This deity in particular smiles favourably over the local Cartel who provide her with offerings in the form of honest cops, or cowardly politicians, or that woman and her four children who like many before her were intercepted and gunned down just twenty miles out from the Texan border."
Shadow's heart sinks as he pictures the ill fate of poor woman and her children who didn't deserve to be slain in such a brutal fashion.
Wednesday on the other hand appears indifferent.
"But we have more important business to attend to; shall we continue?"
Shadow and Wednesday eventually arrive at the opposite end of the Cemetery that is frequented by the victims of the local cartel. Seated alone on a nearby bench is a pasty skinned woman with a swan-like appearance who looked no older than forty. Although she didn't have the same complexion of a Hispanic woman, her facial structure closely resembled those of popular Latino personalities that Shadow saw in movies, TV shows, and on the cover of magazines. Her clothing resembled that of a noble widower from the late 1800s and what truly caught Shadow off guard was despite the ninety-eight degree Fahrenheit heat, the woman didn't break a sweat as her attention is transfixed on a leather bound novel that she held in her gloved hands.
Despite the woman's beauty and approachable exterior, Shadow decided that it was in his best interest to keep his distance. Wednesday on the other hand candidly stepped towards her and places a welcoming kiss on her right hand.
"Buenos días, Señora. I must say you don't look a day older than five-hundred." The woman giggles in amusement. She lowers her vintage sunglasses partway down the bridge of her nose to get a good look at her visitors. The primer that decorates her eyelids goes well with her velvet lipstick. "You don't scrub up so bad yourself, Odin." "Please, call me Wednesday." "And who is this handsome young man standing behind you?" "That there is my associate, Shadow Moon." Wednesday delivers Shadow one of his trademark grins. "Shadow Moon, I would like for you to meet: Nuestra Señora de la Santa Muerta. Otherwise known as Our Lady of Holy Death." A conflicted Shadow Moon doesn't know whether to be polite, or give in to his anxiety that is currently clouding his thoughts.