The Conjurer (The Vine Witch #3)(40)
“I’m well aware of the jinn and their faith in prophecies. Hariq was much the same. But I can’t do the spellwork alone, not on the scale required to protect an entire town. You’d better leave this one here with me,” Camille said, pointing to Yvette.
“Me? But what can I do?”
“Oh, with that glamour of yours I think there’s plenty you can add to help create what we’re after. I’m quite curious to see the results. Yes, most curious.”
With Yvette already giddy at the prospect of working with the perfume witch, Elena left the young woman and headed downstairs. Before exiting the factory, she ducked into the store adjacent to the lobby, where the fragrances were sold. Dozens of bottles of perfume with crystal birds for stoppers were on sale. A bestselling scent, indeed. A dozen other bottles and fragrances were available too. So many there must be one for every woman. Standing in the middle of so many scents and thinking of the unique spellwork Yvette and Camille were embarking upon gave her an idea, one that had her exit the perfume shop and head for the marketplace of magical goods.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There in the open air, riding on the heat and gray smoke that wafted out from the top of a chimney, Sidra recognized herself again. Her fire smoldered within her once more so that she felt it in the tips of her fingers and soles of her feet. Still, she would never again experience the exquisite heat she’d once known from a single touch. A glance. A shared bed.
At first she’d cursed the fairy king for returning her to this place of cold remorse, but his instinct proved correct. She was even glad the girl had been sent with her. Sitting above the rooftops, gazing over the village where she’d once been consumed with the happiness of a thousand dancing flames after marrying Hariq, she knew she’d been set on the good path again. Her only regret was not understanding earlier the fragility of love. How a heart was housed in brittle glass. So easily shattered.
But now the fire inside her had returned. The old one had been right. There were circles within circles in the continuity between past and future. Let Jamra come, she thought. Enough of this jittery, nervous energy. Enough fretting over what might be. Hariq was gone to the next world. Soon she would join him, so might it be, and may it fill her with the scorching blaze of vengeance.
She settled within the heat wave rising from the chimney, hiding amid its smoke as she kept her eye on the sky, the street, and the ether around her. It was then, while tracing the movement of a tiny dust devil that swept along the cobblestones below, that she caught sight of a dog’s tail slipping around a corner. A tail in the same crescent shape found in the omen the birds had gifted her. But whose tail?
There’d always been jinn who came and went through the village. Others had taken up residence in similar older villages in the hillsides to the east. Or there’d been nomads, clanless jinn who roamed over invisible mortal borders, curious to see the whole of the world.
If this was the same dog who’d led Elena to her, he was familiar. Knew her. Knew the village. Instinct suggested Rajul Hakim had sent him. A guard dog to lead the witch to Sidra’s side and watch over the last events of her life. Perhaps the dog was one who paid tribute to the old one from a village closer to his cave. The tail disappeared up a narrow lane. She contemplated the risk. One was smart to keep watch for those about to charge the tent, but one was wisest not to neglect those already inside.
Sidra filtered through the air unseen from rooftop to street level. She followed the animal around the corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of the tail again, but the lane held only mortals. The jinni animated behind a palm tree and sniffed the air. Spice, salt, sand. Someone roasting a chicken in wine. Always in wine. But there was nothing amiss—merely the usual odors of a town steeped in the botanic oils of a thriving industry.
Except . . . yes, there. Her nose caught a whiff of something enticing in the wind, something intoxicating, yet paired with the musty odor of dog fur. She followed it down a narrow lane where small recesses had been built into the walls of the ocher-colored buildings. Residents had placed small statues and an offering of a bouquet of flowers inside one of the alcoves, adding to the layers of fragrance mingling above the pavement. Even she couldn’t be sure she’d be able to detect the smoke of another jinni in the mazelike quarters. Sidra’s body wavered like a candle flame in a draft, realizing the same spell she’d invoked to protect herself might also prove a vulnerability in such a tight space.
The lane ahead veered to the left as it passed under an archway bridging two apartment buildings. She couldn’t see beyond the arch as the lane twisted, though she thought she heard the padding of a dog’s feet against the cobblestones, the pant of breath. She ventured ahead another ten feet, following each new scent that captivated her nose, anxious to uncover the dog’s motive.
But then the floral scents converged, churning in the air with the bitter odor of char and acidic ash. A smokeless flame shot up in the lane before her. A shadow of a man in a derby hat.
Jamra stood three feet before her, eyes blazing with the hunger of revenge denied too many times before.
“Jinniyah.”
Sidra bared her gold-and-ivory teeth even as the torch inside her wavered at the sight of her enemy. Had he been the one she’d followed? Impossible. He wasn’t worthy enough to take the form of a dog.
She grinned, seeing the whiptail end of a scar peeking out above his collar. “How fares your back?” she asked.