Wicked Like a Wildfire (Hibiscus Daughter #1)(60)
“We could try Natalija’s apartment?” Lina offered. “It’s right above here. That’s where I took my lessons with her.”
“Yes,” I said. “And if she’s there, even better. She can’t hide from us knocking on her door. Lina, do we have to go back outside, or can we get up there from here?”
“I’ve gone up from in here, I know the way.”
Lina led us to the back door, which opened onto a low-ceilinged, winding stone stairway leading directly into Natalija’s penthouse apartment. The door at the top was unlocked—she really didn’t expect unwelcome visitors coming through her shop, and no wonder, if it smelled like a haunted horror show every night—and when Luka’s series of sharp raps faded into silence, he eased the door open and led the way through.
Natalija’s living room was as black and deserted as the shop below, dappled with yellow light from the street. It was spare and utilitarian, a few pieces of simple, modern furniture of wood and glass on bare parquet, but it smelled marvelous—a rich, complex fruit scent like an orchard that had caught a frost out of season, crisp apples and soft peaches with glittering, frozen skin, their leaves chips of fresh emerald suspended above them.
Behind me, I could hear Lina breathing deeply. “I forgot how nice it always smelled in here,” she said. “She smelled just like this, too, even when I met her downstairs.”
Luka flicked on the lights, and we all stood squinting blearily at each other for a moment.
“Why don’t Lina and I take the kitchen,” Niko suggested. “And you two can have the bedroom.”
Lina smothered a giggle at that, biting her lip when Luka glared at her.
“Oh, that’s hysterical, coming from you, Nikoleta,” he muttered, turning on his heel and stalking toward the bedroom. “Riss, let’s go take a look while the children play.”
I trailed after him, nearly gasping as we stepped across the threshold. The bedroom was as opulent as the rest of the apartment had been sparse. A massive four-poster bed beckoned, with a sweeping canopy, looping sheets of white silk embroidered with fat golden roses that echoed the heavy duvet. A glass chessboard with figures hewn from crystal sat on one bedside table, and the vanity was white and gold, carved with a scene from the Garden of Eden—except that both Adam and Eve were biting the apple, entwined together beneath a tree like a weeping willow, drooping fronds of branches sheltering them. A trio of massive, intricately flowered courtesan’s fans splayed over one of the walls. Paintings hung all over, too, night skies and glittering cityscapes, and blossoms drifting in shining pools of water. Little curiosities dangled everywhere from the ceiling, a suspended constellation made from sea glass here, a set of wooden oddments there that resolved into the skeleton of a rocking horse when you looked at it from just the right angle.
Luka whistled low. “I would never have guessed it, from all the times I’ve bought guitar strings and picks from her, that Natalija would live in a place like this. How much would all this have cost?”
“I don’t think ‘Natalija’ would,” I said, picking up an ivory-backed brush with blond hair wound around the bristles like silk thread on a spindle. “But another woman pretending to be her might.”
“Riss.” His tone had changed. “Come look at this.”
I laid the brush down and joined him, sitting on the edge of the bed. He’d tugged open one of the bedside table drawers, and even from where I was sitting I could smell the rolling waves of that icy orchard scent, as if distilled to its essence. It didn’t smell just like frozen fruits, I realized as I breathed it in; the smell of it brought Naisha’s face to vivid life in my mind, the foxy finesse of her small, sharp features. As if the perfume projected her like a picture onto the strung canvas of my mind.
Leaning over Luka’s shoulder, I saw a spool of fine ribbons in the drawer, like the ones Malina and I had in our hair. Luka plunged his hand into them and offered them to me—I flinched back as soon as my fingers closed around them, feeling a jolt like a static shock as a flash of Mara’s face imprinted in front of my eyes.
Hands shaking, I dropped the ribbons on the bed. Lina and Niko had crept in, kneeling at the bedside in front of us, and as the full force of the scent broke over her, I could see Lina’s eyes turn so glassy they looked almost metallic. “They smell like Natalija,” she said, brow furrowing. “But they somehow . . . look like someone else?”
“I know. I see it, too. Don’t touch them!” I rushed as she reached for the ribbons. “They’re very . . . aggressive.”
Before I could stop her, Niko gathered them up, bringing them to her nose. I caught my breath and watched her closely, but there wasn’t even a flicker of shock. She hadn’t caught that glimpse of Mara that I had. “How strange,” she said, eyes narrowing as she breathed them in, nose twitching like a bunny’s. “They do smell like a woman. Not a lady-smell, I mean, but they actually make me think of a woman I don’t think I’ve ever seen. A blonde, is that right? With eyes like the two of you?”
I nodded. “That’s Naisha. The woman from the memory.”
Luka was shaking his head with disbelief. “How could that be possible? Changing your appearance so completely. No, I know, I’ve seen what you two can do, but that seems . . .” He trailed off, spreading his hands in defeat, as if it was all too much for him to hold in two palms.