“Ah, Marigold. What brings you in today? Don’t tell me you’re out already.” Jasmine, the shop owner, and my good friend for many years asks as she dusts off a shelf of gold-tinted bottles. Each in a different size and style. The way the light hits the glass creates a dancing prism across the floor. It’s absolutely breathtaking, but I’m only here for one of her enchanting scents and don’t have much time to play catch up.
“I’m afraid I’m about all out.” I say looking up at her balancing on the highest rung of a ladder, blonde hair tumbling about her shoulders as her skirts swish from the effort of cleaning.
“Typical. Marigold. Always applying too liberally. You’re in luck though. I’ve just brewed up a new batch yesterday. Have a seat, I’ll be done in just a moment.”
A smile plays against my lips as I carefully make my way through the stacks of bottles piled myself comfortable on the velvet green couch, worn from years of customers waiting patiently for one of Jasmine’s special concoctions. She’s no ordinary perfumer. In each scent she creates, a bit of magic is brewed carefully between the subtle notes, folded neatly like a hidden stitch sewn to help conceal a weapon or one’s décolletage.
“What do you think of this weather?”
“Ah, well, typical for this time of year, am I right?”
“Quite!”
This was our usual exchange. Me, subtly checking to see if my father’s men are still hunting for me in a way that could be construed as normal conversation. Her, reassuring me that they’re not close. Even though the shop is empty, you can never be too careful. There are eyes and ears everywhere, but thankfully, no one pays attention to small talk about the weather. I breathe a sigh of relief feeling the anxiety slip from my shoulders at hearing that she hasn’t unearthed any threats. You see in order for Jasmine to brew her customers the perfect signature scent, she must first glean information from them. Extracting secrets buried deep within their hearts, getting to the meat of who they are and what they intend to use the perfume for. If they intend to use it for harm, well… they wouldn’t be leaving her little shop ever again. The back room was filled with pieces of former customers, whittled down to their bones as Jasmine leeched their essence for her potions.
“How’s the new job?” she asks, jumping down from the ladder, feather duster in hand. Jasmine has the grace of a cat, and the greenest eyes to match. Her short stature allows her to move easily throughout the crowded space never hitting a bottle with her skirts.
I feel my face redden thinking of Barrett, and Jasmine snaps her piercing gaze on me with a knowing smile. “You cheeky devil. Tell me everything.” She demands sitting next to me with a flop causing the bottles behind me to shake together.
I sigh, brushing away a piece of lint from my frock. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“You know I have my ways of finding out anyways.” She grasps onto my cold hand, and I feel the zing of her magic slide against my skin digging deep into my soul for my secrets. A gasp leaves her mouth the moment she sees what I’ve been attempting to conceal. “My, my, my, Marigold, you like this one.”
I wrench my hand away and burry my face between my fingers. “I know, and I’ve been trying so hard not to. He’s… different than the others. I felt… I don’t know. Seen. It scares me.”
“I know just what you need.” Her green eyes flash as she walks over to the counter, disappearing behind it. I can hear the muffled sounds of her grunts as she digs for something. I know her well enough to not ask or argue. Jasmine always gets her way, no matter how hard you protest. “Ahah! Here it is.” She pops back up, hair disheveled with a light sheen of sweat dotting her brow. Holding up a dark black bottle cacked in dust, she shoves it into my hands with a smirk firmly in place.
“What are you playing at, Jasmine? I just want the usual.”
“That might be what you want, but it isn’t what you need. Trust me.”
I waver for a moment, feeling the round edges of the bottle press into my fingers. She’s never steered me wrong before. I look over at Alfred who’s cocking his head at me, waiting for my decision. “Fine. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. I quite enjoyed that little tryst of yours. But, Marigold, next time allow yourself to finish.” She cackles at my shocked face, and waves me out of her shop. “Only two spritzes of this one, I mean it.”
I let out a disgruntled sound before finding myself back out on the dismal street, umbrella in one hand, the bottle in the other. “Well, that was different, huh Alfred?”
He lets out a screech before taking off into the sky. I lift the bottle beneath my nose and take a whiff. Eyebrows shoot up at the unique scent. It’s sensual and deeply alluring. It has me wanting to strip down right here in this dirty alley to make myself climax. I rip it away from my nose, tossing it into my bag hung about the crook of my elbow.
What is she up to giving me such a thing? And more importantly, why did I find myself imagining Barrett’s reaction to me wearing it? I head deep into the fog covered park and shake these thoughts from my head.
MARIGOLD
The house is eerily quiet upon my arrival. It’s night and well past the children’s bedtime. I’m aware of every step I make as I creep into the foyer, throwing my damp umbrella and coat into the closet. I dig into my bag, taking out the black bottle for closer inspection.
Maybe just one small spritz on my neck wouldn’t hurt anything. Reaching to grasp the round pump, I let my fingers close around it, letting it release a small amount in the space where my neck meets my shoulder.
“Good heavens, that smell.” I whisper, feeling my eyelashes flutter closed before tucking the bottle safely away in my carpet bag, stowing it with my coat.
Since leaving Jasmine’s shop, I’ve been busy doing my typical errands. Tailors, bank, park where I found a nice little treat for my birds. The man in question had the nerve to strike his wife after admitting he’d been cheating on her for years with their maid. Alfred looked immensely thrilled to be chomping on the gentleman’s eyeball. Nothing delights me more than being able to take care of my pet’s needs while ridding the world of scum.
That snack should tide them over for a few weeks or so. Long enough for me to figure out if this family would be the one to break my curse.
The stairs creek with every step, giving me away. I suppose I could just slide up the banister, but were I to get caught, the sight of me defying gravity couldn’t be easily explained away. My toe hits the last step, and I almost go careening backwards at the sight of a shadow moving towards me.
A hand wraps around my wrist just in time, pulling me forward into their strong chiseled chest. The scruff of his unshaven face bristles against my cheek, but I don’t care.
“Careful there, my lady. You wouldn’t want to get yourself into trouble.” His lips are so close to mine, barely a hair width apart.
