The Conjurer (The Vine Witch #3)(47)
The aromas of vanilla, jasmine, lavender, and a hint of something animalistic and wild clung to the air. Sidra was drawn to the scent like an aroused lover. “What is in this?” she asked, leaning her nose in. Her brain knew it was merely a mix of the petals she’d already experienced in the room, but there was something else, some magnetism to the scent that made it impossible to resist.
“Three things,” Camille said. She smiled coyly as Yvette nearly squealed with delight. “First, we’ve made a delectable mix of some of nature’s finest scent offerings. Second, Yvette was in possession of a goodly amount of castoreum, procured at the market, so we tossed it in.”
“Turns out what that old witch gave me was from a beaver’s ass,” Yvette said, scrunching up her nose.
“Highly prized for its robust aroma.” Camille held up a finger as if presenting the pièce de résistance. “And finally, there’s a unique tinge of magic holding it all together. A combination of my spellwork and this young woman’s glamour.”
“We put a few drops of my Fée blood in the mixture. A pinch of fat would have been better, but, oh là là, I’m not that dedicated to the cause.”
Camille gave a comme ci, comme ?a shrug. “I think our jinni friend here has shown it worked as well with the castoreum replacement.”
Feeling an unnatural giddiness infiltrate her mood, Sidra blocked her nose and mouth with the edge of her robe so only her eyes showed and stepped back. “What has worked? What magic is this?”
“Camille has a theory, or rather she got the idea from your . . . from Hariq. Seems perfume can awaken a person’s spirit. Both the good and the bad, depending on the scent.”
“And depending on the person,” Camille added.
“But with jinn it also matters what their intentions are,” Yvette said. “At least that’s what Hariq told her when they were making that perfume of yours.”
The mixture of scent and talk of her husband combined to form a whirlwind of happiness, sorrow, longing, and a deep, deep desire to forgive him anything if only he would materialize once more. Sidra kept her nose covered as she slumped against the wall. Her fire, the flame that kept her mood sharp and mind fixed, flickered within her until she felt woozy with watery emotions too complicated for her to control. She didn’t think she could hold up her physical embodiment another moment. And yet her mind couldn’t focus long enough to dissipate. Yvette, attuned as ever to the capricious moods of others, swept in and put an arm under her before she collapsed to the floor.
“Take her to my office,” Camille said and put the stopper back in the bottle.
Yvette used her power to levitate and guide Sidra to the next room. “Strong stuff, eh?” she said as she eased the jinni down into a soft chair.
With some distance between her and the fragrance, Sidra recovered enough to gain control over her body and mind. “Hariq often took an interest in the creation of such complicated scents,” she said once her head cleared. “But what was the part you said about good and bad intentions?”
“That may still be a matter of guesswork,” Camille said. “The idea is these pleasant smells are attractive to jinn whose intentions are well meaning. Or at least benign.” The woman paused briefly, as if only just making up her mind about Sidra. “Whereas a jinni whose intentions are of a befouling sort, his essence will be repelled by the pleasantness of such airborne aromas. They’ll get in his lungs, eyes, and nose, stinging the membranes with the stench of beauty.”
“My husband was often right about such things.”
“So, you think our jinni repellent will work?” Yvette moved to lean against a shelf. Her glow was soft but steady, enough to distract the eye and the mind from unpleasant thoughts.
Sidra opened her mouth to speak when she saw the bottles lining the shelf behind the fairy. Rows and rows of perfume bottles like the one Hariq presented as a gift years ago. The one with her fragrance in it. The one she’d left behind in the Fée lands.
The girl had made a joke. She was still smiling. But then she patted her hips as if feeling for something. “Oh, that reminds me. I keep forgetting to give this back to you.” Yvette reached in her pocket, the one that never showed the bulk of any of the things she hoarded, and produced a bottle. It was like the others behind her, but with one very distinct and terrifying difference the girl could never have understood.
For the second time in mere days Sidra felt a chill overtake her. “What is that doing here?”
“I picked it up on our way out of the grotto. Old habit, I suppose, keeping it safe for you. Good thing, seeing how we got kicked out right after. I know how much the bottle means to you. It’s like your home away from home, right?”
Sidra stared, confounded by her bottle’s physical presence in this strange room. “You stupid, interfering girl! Do you know what you’ve done? You must send it back to your mother’s realm this instant. Back through that portal your frivolous kind slips in and out of. Now!”
“Send it back? If I knew how to send the bottle back, do you think I’d still be standing here?”
The fire surged back into Sidra. “The bottle cannot be here.”
Fool of a girl! Sidra swept the container up in her fist and had to restrain herself from pulverizing the crystal into dust. Not that it would have eliminated her problem.