Potion Master Posted May 31, 2016 Share Posted May 31, 2016 Love Potion: Summer 16: Brule This one is dedicated to Patz and Storemy. Black Star Lavender Atlantic Shore Betrothal Potion (updated recipe) Butterfly Bloom Summershine w/ Topper (SPRAY) Mermaid's Kiss (w/ Hedione) created by Le Wiz! OCCO: Ambrosia 2016 w/ Copulins Ocean Mist Pie in the Sky - 2016 Seaside Splendor in the Grass ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ PRIVATE EDITIONS FOR JUNE 6 of them this month! 8/16 Itty Sets Available for $6 each. (EOSP, Bella, Blackcat, Seajam, Chelle, Lainey. Curiousnose) Cedar & Sandalwood 2 bottles available (Quiet Guy, A very simple blend of just a few very high quality ingredients. Exquisite attars of sandalwood and cedar. The creator, Lawrence, asked for the blend to feel like 60% sandalwood to 40% cedar, but of course the mix is trickier than that, as cedar is tons stronger, so in reality the sandalwood is more than 10x the volume. Anyway, this is simple beauty - earthy, woody lovliness. The Tao of Torre at least 6 bottles available, maybe more (Tiny, This one has a crystalline type of purity that is popular in modern Asian fragrances - a light and fresh collection of essential oils and sheer accents. Blossoms of orange, lemon, white lily and freesia, drops of apricot, nutmeg, bamboo and green tea, with a dusting of sandalwood in the base. Martha's Moon Goddess at least 3 bottles available, maybe more (I may have one more.) (StacyK, Tiny, Invidiana) An African incense style scent with a base of bright blue musk and a pinch of vetiver, blended with a trio of black coconut oils, and fruitily brightened with tiny drops of honeydew and cucumber. Tyvey's CocoCinnaCarnation 5 bottles available (MDCherie, JLisa, Tyvey's creation in her own words: "Sweet carnation and sweet hard-candy cinnamon, about equally prominent; secondarily, a sweet and not too intense anise; all drowned in a vat of coconut cream." And it's exactly that! Tyvey's Banana Positions 5 bottles available (Invidiana, Tyvey's re-imagining of Compromising Positions with banana on top! Super creamy vanillas and chewy aged patchouli, gently spiced with nutmeg and cinnamon, with a delicious helping of caramelized banana. Lois's Lucky Ladybug 2 bottles available (StacyK, Lois asked for something as close to nature as we could provide, something that some lucky little bug might find fresh, crisp and delicious. Lois was extremely pleased with her combination of cucumber, bamboo, aloe, leafy greens and a wee drop of mint. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ an excerpt from Whatever Lois wants… A Savannah Finch mystery by Julian Lune Dig if you will the picture… Yeah, it had been that kind of week: purple bunting everywhere and people crying in the streets. And as we cruised through warmth which was starting to wake up and realize it was Spring and therefore time to break a sweat, another dear departed voice on the radio was soulfully counseling don’t let me hear you say life’s taking you nowhere... It was enough to drive me to full-on drinking, instead of the three quarters-full I generally engaged in. Inside Martha’s Moon Goddess Emporium it smelled adventurous - like a million different places and things - and was stifling despite the presence of several box fans. They stirred the air and set sun-catchers and chimes in gentle swirling motion. My client Lois - who personified the Earth Mother type of woman right down to her mud-splashed Birkenstocks - held out a wooden box, like a jewelry box, or something you might use to store incense. I thought the latter because it had a wonderful smell to it: old polished wood, warm and porous. She moved her hand, indicating I should take it. The top was carved with a filigree-type design, vaguely Art Nouveau, with a single word carved in the center: Torre. “What - or who -” I began to ask. “That contains her last working,” Lois whispered gravely, her black hair swinging forward as if it could afford us more privacy. Not that it mattered, the shop didn’t happen to be crowded that day. In point of fact only a fluffy mackerel tabby observed our conversation, green-gold eyes expressing...skepticism, maybe? With cats it’s so hard to tell. I tended to feel inadequate in their presence. A yawn, then, definitely dismissive. I opened the box, revealing a beautiful indigo silk lining and a further whiff of treasure chest, hope chest, box of wonders. A small porcelain object, worn by time into something vaguely shaped rested within. It was a sort of ivory color, mottled with spots of various shades. “Fertility magic?” I asked. Lois shrugged, took a sip of tea. She motioned for my cup and poured more of the citrusy blend, it was bright and uplifting to my nose. I was enjoying breathing it in more than drinking it. “It is imbued, but I don’t know. I worry about what it means, and now she’s -” Lois had hired me when her boss - the Martha of said establishment - had disappeared during the previous full moon. Her workroom at the back of the store - normally filled with candles and crystals and all the accoutrements of a well-seasoned herbalist and magical practitioner - had been found completely empty save the box in the center of the floor. “Do you think she’s in it?” Lois gasped. “Savannah!” “Hey, it’s a fair question.” Sebastian unfolded himself from the shadows in a corner, looking around, sniffing the air. “No, I’d know if she were still here.” “I heard she got in deep with the Cinnamon Girl.” Lois made a gesture with her left hand. “Not so loud!” she hissed. “Oooh, sounds...zippy,” Bast drawled. “Demons talk,” I said, shrugging. “She wanted - well, you know - to find someone who would listen.” I sighed. That explained everything, unfortunately. Witches tend to have a difficult time finding their level in the realm of romance, and it’s easy to become tempted by those spirits who are always willing to trade passion for condiments. (I know what you’re thinking, but for those for whom the mundane world has been drained of sensation, it’s all about the seasoning.) “What if I can’t -” “Hey, I’m right here!” Bast protested. “What if we -” I rolled my eyes at his pretty pouty face, “- can’t find her?” Lois sighed, and forgot all about the tea, taking a pull from a bottle of something stronger from the purse in her lap. I was tempted to ask her to pass it, my tea could have been greatly improved by a shot of whatever it was. “I’m a simple girl, you know? All I wanted was to work in my herb garden. And now I’m inside. I hate to be inside.” I reached out and patted her free hand. “I’m really sorry about this.” “I told her, she should have gone outside more.” Bast was having a conversation with the cat: a series of purrs and trills and interrogative meows. I won’t even tell you how he describes his feline language skills. He looked over at me and shrugged. “You look like you could use my Bulgarian yogurt carrot parfait,” Lois said, with all the Calvinistic fervor of a clean eater. “Can I put some shrimp on it?” Bast made a gagging sound then murmured something into the cat’s ear. She - I have to assume it was a she by the way her eyes widened, then slowly blinked - gave a plaintive meorrrrow and jumped down from her perch. “Sorry darling, we’re on a case,” he said. “Too sweet!” Lois said, and I wholly agreed. Tout de suite was how quickly we needed to get out of there. A brass band was assembled on Elysian Fields, raucously disagreeing on an arrangement of “1999.” I gave them a “Selah!” out the window as we drove by, and they waggled their horns in acknowledgement. “So this spice-craving entity, is it a demon?” Bast asked. “Not as such, no. It’s more like a haint. It has a power to make you feel desired.” “A ghost incubus?” “It doesn’t kill you, it’s just incredibly distracting.” Bast laughed until he started coughing...which is weird because you wouldn’t expect someone who is more than half-demonic to be subject to such human considerations. I drove, criss-crossing the Seventh Ward, hoping that Lawrence would just appear on a corner. That’s how you could find him. He knew the Cinnamon Girl. He knew how carnations were supposed to smell. After an hour of music that was making me sad, needing to pee, and Sebastian whistling something incredibly annoying because I wouldn’t let him smoke, I finally spied my prey. “Girl, whose car is this?” Lawrence asked as he climbed in the back. “It ain’t mine.” “And this one,” giving a wave of a long-fingered hand, “I wouldn’t say he’s the best choice of accessory.” “I’m as pretty as a Hermes handbag,” Bast said. “Hi Larry.” Lawrence scowled, he reminded me of Blair Underwood in a bad mood - urbane and attractive - but a little rough around the edges. “You better not let Cinner see this one, she’ll snatch him up hard.” I bet most people don’t know that carnations are meant to be spicy; the way they cultivate them these days they’re like roses - nearly odorless and in a whole bunch of colors not found in nature. The woman they call the Cinnamon Girl was known for two things: growing the most wonderfully fragrant carnations - which smelled like carnations were supposed to smell - and inventing a drink called a Banana Cowgirl, which contains various decadent ingredients and tasted like a milkshake but got you totally sneaky-drunk. Inventing a popular drink down here pretty much makes you a hero. More importantly she seemed to have a talent for drawing haints, who were all so lonely for human contact but most people couldn’t sense them. A woman of magical/psychic persuasion could, and often did, encountering handsome lost souls looking mournful in the midst of the supermarket, or at the laundromat, longing for the warmth and proximity of human life. Blowing her goofer dust on them - heavily laced with cinnamon and other spices - they would follow her anywhere, do whatever she bid. My male passengers snarked at one another for a bit while I pondered what was in it for the Cinnamon Girl. Those who truck with supernatural forces tend not to be in it for the money so much - the risk is often so great that money won’t help you if things go awry. Like magic, money attracts both good and bad depending on how it’s used. “So can you tell me?” I asked Lawrence when we pulled up to Dupree’s Grocery for some poorboys and boudin. “Did Martha cross the line?” He considered this while sucking the guts out of a sausage casing, rice sticking to his lips. “When the moon is full anything can happen, you know that.” Indeed...people allowed their passions to run wild during such times. Intuition and creativity reigned, and such qualities could take on very interesting expressions. “Cross the line?” Bast asked, drinking coffee and fastidiously picking pieces of pork out of a cochon de lait. “Go into the in-between places, and such-like.” “Humans can’t -” “- but magic can,” I concluded. “But I don’t think it’s the haints doing it.” “You best not tangle with that one,” Lawrence cautioned. “You know she’s tapped in, and don’t take kindly to meddling.” “But isn’t that what a matchmaker is?” I asked, not entirely rhetorically. “The ultimate meddler.” “You dropped a shrimp down your bra,” Bast said with a smirk, which brought me back down from the heights of my grand epiphany. I managed to pry a few contacts out of Lawrence and spent the evening tracking them down. Women who had enjoyed the services of the Cinnamon Girl, and as I went around town talking to them about how and when they had obtained their new ghostly boyfriends, I could feel the presence of some of the haints, flickering out of the corner of my eye. The women were doing that head-tilt thing that my mom used to do, their attention always half-claimed by that other plane. No one had anything bad to say about their helpful matchmaker, of course. Whatever had happened to Martha surely wasn’t her fault, sometimes people got careless, and paid the price. By the time we got home I was extremely grumpy, and Sebastian was pouting because none of the women had wanted to flirt with him. “Well of course they didn’t, you doofus - you haven’t got a patch on the shade of their dreams!” I stopped short at the sight of at least a dozen carnations laid across the doormat. The truly natural kind, which are a kind of deep purple-red and smell like peppery heaven. I stared at them for a few moments, not sure what it meant, not quite. “Flowers? For me!” Sebastian scooped them up and walked right in. I followed but was tense. “Savannah!” Bun called out from the bedroom. I immediately felt guilty for having left him most of the day and rushed in, ready to cuddle him. “Aww sweetie, I’m so sorry -” A tall thin woman held him in perfectly-manicured hands. Shiny black hair framed a face which didn’t need makeup and didn’t have any save for deep red lipstick. “I couldn’t -” His small dry voice brought tears to my eyes. No magic in the house indeed. She squeezed him and my focus snapped to. “Don’t hurt him, please.” “Savannah Finch, your wards are ridiculously easy to break, did you know that?” “Why Miz Alene -” “You will not address me by my true name!” she hissed, dark eyes boring into me. “Oh sorry, I have been hearing about your mania for privacy this evening.” “Look, aren’t these pretty,” Bast said, bringing the flowers into the room, in a very nice vase I had no recollection of owning. The Cinnamon Girl’s reaction was immediate. She hissed and screeched and pointed at him. “That thing -” “- is trouble,” Bun opined from her other hand. “ - is mine,” I concluded. “Now give me back my bunny or that thing will be up in your grill before I can say -” “Carnation!” Bast exclaimed with a grin, extending the flowers like he’d pulled them out of a hat. Bun was whimpering when she handed him back and I hugged him to me. She’d squeezed him so hard he was flat in spots. “Heel your creature,” she commanded and that was it. “Look here, you broke into my house, so you have no call to be ordering anybody around. What do you want? And, by the way, what did you do with Martha?” “I had nothing to do with that,” she said, attempting to retain her dignity as Sebastian moved incrementally closer to her. “After the union is joined, my involvement ends.” “But you did find her a haint, is that right?” “It’s my business, and therefore none of yours.” Damn she played it close. “Why are you here?” “I have a message from your mother.” I nearly slapped her. Sebastian turned to me with a warning look. I could see not worth it in his eyes. “Like she would talk to you, taking advantage of those poor shades.” “Oh but she did. Of course, I had to pry it out of her but -” “What did you do?!” I yelled as Bast grabbed her wrist. She screamed. I felt the floor rumble. A distant wailing began to sound. “Let her go, before she turns the entire ghostly community loose on us.” “She says you should not bend to my demands, but that’s all she did say before I bound her.” I sagged against the wall in shock and Sebastian growled at her as Bun murmured, “Bad, bad lady.” I think I greyed out for a few moments because Bun’s voice eventually penetrated my rage and panic, dusty and small, but querulous. “Savannah, I think he’s going to eat her.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” I murmured. “We just had lunch.” But Sebastian did have that raggedy-ass spice girl pinned on the bed. It would have looked seductive in any other context. She looked afraid to scream again, his lovely face only inches from her own. The smell of brimstone had intensified, Bast could never abandon his true nature, especially when he was angry. “What are you doing?” I asked, and my mouth felt like low tide in the wharf. “She won’t talk to me,” Bast said, low and menacing, “but she’s not leaving her till she explains herself.” “No.” I swayed to my feet, and Bun yelped as I squeezed him. “Sorry sweetie.” I returned him to his basket. He whimpered, but I wanted him out of the way. “You’re a liar,” I declared. “My mother has moved on and therefore is out of your trifling reach.” Alizeana Alene - who never allows anyone to call her that - looked like a recalitrant child. “She did speak to me.” “No doubt. That woman has elevated scolding to an artform, even from The Great Mystery. Now get off my damn bed!” Sebastian raised his eyebrows but I waved my hands and she propelled onto the floor, landing with a “Oooph!” She rose and straightened her tailored shirt and slim trousers, the bangles on her arms clacking. “Lois told you it was me?” “It was a logical inference,” I cracked. “Non!” she said, the Creole coming to the fore as she stood up. “Who has the most to gain by making that one go away? Making it seem magic is to blame?” “You realize, don’t you,” I said, folding my arms and cocking my hip, “that deflecting blame is not the strategy of the blameless.” Sebastian snickered and fluffed his hair. “By the by,” he said to Bun, “I don’t eat everything.” Bun make a skeptical huffing sound. “Hush,” I said to Bast, waving my hand again. “So you’re saying that Lois - a woman who can’t stand to be away from her turnips and what-not - masterminded this whole thing, huh?” “It is all a front, I tell you!” she shouted, gesturing wildly. “If you try to bind me you will regret it!” “I regret a lot of things, generally. But I can’t allow that to impede my decisions.” She gave Sebastian the side-eye. “You could do so much better than that one,” she said, and it was unclear which one of us she meant by that. But it’s her standard sales pitch, I’m sure. “You shouldn’t have let her go,” Sebastian scolded, as he paced and smoked on the sidewalk in front of the house. The smoke floated above his head, seeming to follow him as he moved back-and-forth I sat on the stoop and drank a beer. “I’m giving back the retainer,” I sighed. “I don’t want to be in the middle of this nonsense.” “I doubt your mother would approve of you doing that.” “Look, I get enough of that crap from Bun. I don’t require an external conscience!” “You need something, perhaps another sandwich. D’ya think they could be in on it together?” “To what end? It’s not like the Emporium is rolling in it, it does as well as any other shoppe in the Quarter.” “Not for something so craven, no. But...I wonder...is Lois romantically-involved?” “What did her cat tell you?” “Oh it’s not her cat - she said she was the Shoppe Cat and claimed no one as a caretaker.” “And?” Bast grinned. “She only wanted to know when I was coming back.” Tastrophe hissed from the other side of the screen door. Bast rolled his eyes. “No darling, I swear there’s no other pussy for me.” I almost called out don’t believe him, but then thought better of making Tas angry with both of us. She had clever ways of passive-aggressively expressing her displeasure. “Make yourself useful and help reweave my wards, demon boy,” I sniped, rolling the bottle between my palms. “Then dinner, then we make a few social calls.” We were creeping up on Martha’s gentile Quarter apartment - located above Teasdale’s Tearoom and Savory Delights - as a passing car assured us it’s gonna be a beautiful night, u got your world together, everything’s lookin’ alright, and I sighed again. “What do you think they’re trying to imply with that phrase?” Bast asked and he bent down and stared at the lock. His seductive powers extended to any number of inanimate objects. “Why would savory delights be more important than sweet ones?” Eventually the door swung open as so many things open to his influence and I put an arm across his warmer-than-merely-human body, stopping his progress. Through the doorway a glittering mist hung in the air, like cobwebs but much finer, the barrier rippled and roiled before us, incredibly intricate and seemingly sticky. “Can’t you see it?” I asked. The mesh?” “I see it. Doesn’t mean it’s going to hurt me.” He had a point. I let Bast step inside, whereupon he dragged me in with him, and we stumbled into the center of a lovely parlour, furnished with faux antiques and threadbare carpets, and a cringing haint curled up in a bergere chair which actually looked authentic to me. “Oh go away,” it moaned at us. “There’s nothing left to take!” “Excuse me, but we just want to know what happened to -” “Don’t look at me!” the ghost exclaimed, raising a male head to fix us with a sorrowful expression. “To be fair, we’re looking through you,” Sebastian answered. “Could you not, Bast?” I snapped. “The poor thing is upset!” “Terribly so,” the ghost agreed. “What’s your name?” I asked, kneeling before the shade. I did my best to look sympathetic, but I could feel Sebastian behind me rolling his eyes and fluffing his hair. “Torre,” he said, and then this whole convoluted mess started to make sense. Sort of. “Would I -” Lois said, hand to her chest, the other holding a cup of herbal tea, “- why would I desire a shade?” She blinked several times as if the suggestion were insulting or confusing. “Well,” I replied, staring at the cup she had offered me, but I declined to drink this time, “you do live a solitary life as well, do you not? Perhaps it’s a simple need for companionship.” “As you have fulfilled yourself with -” she paused, looking at Sebastian, “- whatever it is you have there.” Sebastian huffed, turning wide amber eyes to our host. “No, I’m just stuck with him, I’m afraid,” I replied, “but we’re not talking about me.” “Someone who would not complain about your wretched choice of cuisine, for example,” Sebastian said, his voice dripping with ridicule. “Don’t ever insult a demon,” I told her, “they tend to get snarky. But it occurs to me that you possess motivation beyond ascertaining what became of your employer. Or, in fact, that her fate is a result of something to do with you. The Cinnamon Girl is a hothead.” “Pun intended,” Sebastian said, sitting back and putting his boots on her coffee table. Lois blanched and swallowed heavily. “Hush,” I said, waving a hand at him. “Look, you paid me and all, Lois, but this little adventure is already shaping up to be a pain in my behind and I don’t have a stake in all this. But you do, apparently, and if you’re not straight with me then I don’t want to help you. Not when your prime suspect is making trouble for me and mine.” “He was supposed to be for me!” Lois said, her voice wavering on the edge of collapse. “But she took him, just like she takes everything. So I sent her out there -” She pointed beyond the back of her house. “I sent her out to my friends, and they took her.” She nodded then, a sense of retribution in her mind making her smile in a grim sort of way. “Fairies?” Sebastian asked. “You got the fairies involved? Well they’ll be no getting her back from them, certainly.” “Hey, I’ve got connections,” I countered. “But I don’t get it, why did you pay me to find her?” “Because he doesn’t want me!” Lois wailed. “He always liked her better!” Bast shook his head at me. “What did I tell you? I can always spot a sob sister.” I couldn’t be mad with Lois, even though I wanted to be. I motioned to Sebastian for us to leave. “But -” “Trust me, she’s suffered enough. Besides, we promised Torre we’d bring him some nutmeg.” “No substitute for his lady love, though.” “Hey we all do what we can, you know?” It was raining when we departed - not that the rain would lessen the humidity - and it felt like a benediction of sorts. I turned on the radio as we drove up Tulane and sang lustily to put on your red shoes and dance the blues. Sebastian smirked at me and at least I knew he’d never like anyone - for better or worse - better than me. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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