Elementary (23 page)

Jane could stomach no more. A flash of lightning clawed out of the sky, and Jane called its power into her. The lodestone grounded the electricity before it could destroy her, and she took hold of the energy for her own purposes.

The human wolves behind her staggered backward, yelling with shock. “
DANIEL!”
Jane called through the chaos, desperately, in her mind.
“ROSE!
ROSE! HELP ME!”

The thing that had been Rooster, now animated by some deep, malignant Elemental of the Earth, rose from its throne of bones. Rat bones, she guessed, creatures that had served their Master before it fed upon them.

Such a Moloch required a constant influx of sacrifice. And the men and ladies of society who consented to the trade received at least a fleeting increase in their own power. This was the underside of the Gilded Age, this evil lurking under the desires of men had led to Daniel's fears for her and for himself.

She could not vanquish such a thing . . . it had lived in New York before any human inhabitant, it propagated itself in the mud and stone of the land itself. The magic that had bubbled out of the ground and devoured Tommy Rooster was utterly alien to Jane and her own Mastery.

Like attracts like in the world of magic. Such opposites as Jane and the Rooster, designed to repel each other. This immutable law of the physics of magic was the only opportunity Jane could find in her desperate situation, and she made the most of it.

She didn't bother with weaving a spell of protection, or binding, or heaven forfend, healing. None of that would save her from this demon of mud. Instead Jane gathered up every ounce of the clean Fire she had gathered from the sky and blasted the Rooster from his throne. Her Mastery called down the lightning, and Fire rained down upon the creature of Earth and blood.

The first strike blasted through the wooden wharf, kindling the rotten wood above their heads. Wet from rain, huge billows of brownish-gray smoke unfolded from the burning wood into the night sky.

The looped ropes binding her wrists incinerated in the blast, and the lodestone burned against her thigh. But it wasn't enough.

The Rooster rose, his skin peeling off in ribbons. The mortal man was surely dead, yet his frame remained animated by something ancient and unkillable. The fire burned away the human, and the Earth element so alien to hers remained.

Another blue-white claw of lightning cracked down, missing Jane by inches. And her Rose, her beloved, true Rose, struck out of the storm. Like called to like, and her phoenix came to her cry.

Swooping out of the sky, brilliant blue, orange, crimson, in her Elemental form Rose rode the storm. And behind her, Jane sensed not only Daniel's power, but the circle of the great mages of New York. The Western White Lodge, gathered to battle the tremendous evil in their midst.

They could not kill this thing. But with their collective magic, they drove it back underground, into the stone under the city. With a final despairing shriek, the Earth Elemental sank deep into the ground, pressed there by the power of the mages' circle.

Jane whirled to face her human captors, but they had fled. She forced herself forward to see what had become of her tormentor, the river pirate Tommy Rooster.

She sank to her knees by the pirate's side, utterly exhausted. Nothing was left but shreds of fabric, and a scorched and waterlogged silk top hat.

 • • • 

Even as the world turned to gray, Rose gathered Jane into her talons. Nestled safely within the phoenix's claws, Jane rested her head against Rose's flank as she leaped into the air and away from the cursed place.

“Take me to Daniel,” she managed to say.

In what seemed to Jane like a blink, Rose and she alighted into the circle of mages, who had gathered to work their magic in the heart of Central Park. Inside the circle, Rose became a human girl again, gasping for air and trembling after the effort of her flight from the pirate lair.

Daniel stepped forward and gathered them both into the protective circle of his arms, and Jane felt the warmth of his breath through her hair. For an eternal moment they wrapped together, and despite the danger Jane felt more loved than since her mother had died.

“I thought I had lost you,” Daniel finally said.

Until this moment, Jane had secretly counted herself among the legions of lost girls, in danger of following a Pied Piper into oblivion. The malevolence lurking in the city remained, a dark velvet against which the Gilded Age shone.

But now, safe in Daniel's arms, she realized that despite the evils that could never be vanquished, she possessed all the magic she would ever need, beating right there inside her vulnerable human heart.

Jody Lynn Nye

The life of an apprentice
parfumeuse
is a delight,
Mlle. Aurelia Degard thought,
though one of solid work and hard thought.
The unforeseen revelation that she was an untrained Elemental Magician added further responsibilities and dangers which Aurelia accepted in good part.

One does, after all, complement the other most auspiciously,
she thought. She gestured to Hyr, the Air Elemental who lived in La Parfumerie Rupier's workroom, to tip into her mixing bowl a drop of a precious oil so small it would scarcely wet the point of a pin. The scent bloomed in the globelike bowl, enriching the airs already there.

The workroom was a garden of delights to one such as Aurelia. Where better to be able to indulge herself in beautiful fragrances while making a good living doing what one dearly loved? Her parents were proud of her new career and demanded to know every detail. Yet, she reflected, as she peered up at the boy-shaped blue cloud that was the spirit of Air, there were things that she would never be able to tell them. It was possible that if she had known the truth about this shop, she might not have taken the position. But then, she would never have learned the truth about herself, either.

The recent return of her employer, M. Rupier, from his months-long journey to the Levant for rare oils, resins, and other fragrant—and not so fragrant—ingredients for his famed scents, precipitated a very refined and restrained but thorough scolding from Aurelia for not informing her of the dual nature of his shop, nor of her own skills that he had detected. How could he not tell her he was a Master
Magician
? Or she? What was she? It was a matter she could not trust to letters or other correspondence, and so had to wait several months in peril of her soul to find out. She was a good Catholic and did not wish to be burned as a witch.

M. Rupier had immediately apologized to her. He truly had not meant to deceive Aurelia. Time had simply run out for him to have acquainted her with her hidden skills and begun her education in their use before he had had to depart on a long-awaited and necessary journey, let alone to describe his own abilities and responsibilities. How could he know that she had the native talent to discover his hidden workroom and the magical being that lived therein?

But she had done well, very well, in handling the situation, and prevented harm. She had done the House of Rupier proud, and he was glad. A financial reward, a gift of ten francs, had done much to ease the discomfort, but the information she craved was more valuable yet. M. Rupier had promised to answer any and all questions Aurelia had at any time that they were alone, except for the presence of the Air sprite and the door warden, Alfonse, who was a young Earth Magician himself. M. Rupier had also reassured her that her soul was in no danger.

Their first session of questions and answers began the very evening of his return, and went on so long that dawn was creeping over the threshold before Aurelia's voice had gone raspy.

“Is there anything that you have left unsaid?” Aurelia had asked, with the last vestiges of sound she could muster, as the sound of the street sweepers passed by the front door of the elegant shop.

“I am sure there is,” her master had said with a twinkle in his catlike eyes, not looking at all tired in spite of their sleepless night. “But this time I promise you, it is neither intentional, nor will remain unsaid, should I realize I had forgotten.”

And he had kept his word. Wherever a lesson would fit into her busy day, he offered it. Aurelia absorbed every word, wondering how it was she had gone unaware of magic for her first sixteen years of life.

There was so much to know! A lifetime would not suffice for her education. She ought to have been detected years earlier, M. Rupier had informed her. Her talents could not have gone unnoticed if there had been even one other Master in her district. But how could she know? All she could do was work her hardest at both her crafts, one not only public but famous, and the other secret, never to be revealed to any but a fellow magician. But she was ambitious and hard working. M. Rupier had told Alfonse that she should become the
parfumeuse
after he retired. For that, she would work her fingers to the bone.

For her lessons in magic, she learned how to harness the unseen energies that abounded across the world. Her natural predilection was for the element of Air. M. Rupier was a Water Master, so he did not control the wisps and breaths of her milieu, and could only persuade them to comply with his wishes. She learned from him what she would before have called charms and spells, and all worked in glorious harmony with the skills needed for the making of perfumes.

The labor itself was not physically demanding, but it required infinite care. Formulating perfumes, lotions, powders, bath oils, and other scented products made use of talents she already possessed: a natural flair for combining delicious fragrances in many layers, called notes; a facility for reading formulae from both classic sources and her master's own formulary; and that most precious and irreplaceable gift, a nose. That tip-tilted and unloved feature on her narrow oval of a face had proved the key to her fortune and her future.

She inhaled from the top of the work bowl and checked the notebook beside her. All the ingredients were present, but something was missing. She closed her eyes and imagined what would fill in the deficit.

The Sylph Hyr, a spirit of Air and therefore her willing servant, flew around her as if he would wrap her in a veil of blue.

“Shoo!” Aurelia said crossly.

“But what are you doing, mistress?” Hyr asked. He stopped to hover above her head and took a deep breath from her work bowl. “What a tasty mix! Shall I bring you frankincense?”

“No, you wretched thing, that will make it far too heavy!” Aurelia said. “Bring me calendula.”

“You have but to command.” Hyr flicked to the high shelves, filled top to bottom with jars, phials, bottles, bags, boxes, and tins. His hand seemed too insubstantial to lift the weighty cream stone jar, but it floated toward Aurelia like a top-heavy white cloud. She lifted the lid and breathed the refreshing scent.

The soft, fugitive fragrance would underpin the heavier oils and temper them. Normally used as a top note, it would be treated here as a middle note. Ten drops, that was all! She counted them as they fell from the pipette into the shimmering golden liquid in the work bowl. Below, the low notes contained frangipani, myrrh, copal, lavender, and a tiny drop of clove oil. It was heady and luxurious, but so was the marvelous customer who had ordered it. Aurelia swirled the bowl to make certain it was right. It was.

“That is perfect, mistress!” Hyr said, gleefully. “Oh, I shall eat all of it!”

“Don't you dare!” Aurelia warned him. Truthfully, he only consumed the scent, not the liquid, but he was such a nuisance sometimes!

M. Rupier, seated at his rosewood desk in the chestnut leather chair in the inner room behind the showroom, chuckled.

Aurelia jumped down from her stool to go attend him.

“Is there something I am doing wrong, master?” she asked, her hands folded nervously against the apron that shielded her dress of black bombazine from splashes.

He smiled at her. His eyes and mustache looked even more catlike because of the expression, but a cat full of cream before the fire, not one on the hunt.

“Not at all,” he said. “Your passion reminds me of myself as a youth. Is the preparation complete?”

“I believe so, M. Rupier.”

He closed the heavy leather-covered ledger and rose. “Then let me sample it.”

Aurelia hovered nervously as he whisked air toward his nose over the globe-shaped bowl. Many
parfumeurs
and scent makers used tall, conical glasses for their mixing, but her master preferred one that would contain all the scents as if in a bubble.

“It is delightful, master!” Hyr cried, whisking overhead. “As spicy as the lady herself!”

“Hush, you bold thing,” M. Rupier said, but his smile was indulgent. Hyr laughed and turned somersaults. Aurelia could have stuffed the Air spirit into a bottle. Sometimes he was
so
annoying. “Yes, indeed, it is ready. Decant it. We have new cut-crystal atomizer bottles from Les Cristalleries Baccarat that will be perfect. You know where they are.”

“I will fetch one, monsieur,” Aurelia said. She hustled into the storeroom. The heavy wooden case in question stood by the rear door. These were the largest bottles that they used, meant to hold ten ounces of scent. Only the wealthy could afford the contents, so the container must be duly impressive. M. Rupier had these made to order for his most select clients. Aurelia chose a bottle made from plum-colored glass overlaid with a sheen of gold flecks. Holding it in both hands so as not to drop it, she returned to the workroom. Suddenly, she heard Alfonse cry out.

“A visitor!” She peered around the door to see. The stocky redheaded boy ran to the door, even though the bell had not yet rung. He knew every inch of the shop and the street beyond, as though he were its special protector. “She is here!”

Three tiny silver bells hanging from a bronze Arts Décoratifs fairy above the door tinkled musically. Alfonse pulled open the portal and bowed deeply. “Welcome, Madame Goltier!”

The woman who entered was like a fabulous beast, wild and untamed, wrapped in exotic furs, one of them a spotted pelt like nothing that Aurelia had ever seen. Her black hair was dressed high on her head, but thick curls tickled her ears as if telling her secrets. The dress she wore was of the most expensive silks and caressed her lush curves. Under a priceless, filmy lace fichu, the décolletage was daringly low, presenting a tantalizing arc of the full upper curve of her bosom without dipping all the way into indecency. Her wrists jangled with bracelets, and rings crusted her fingers, but her eyes, wide, long-lashed and the most astonishing shade of green, needed no paint to make those who beheld them forget all the rest.

Mme. Goltier was famous throughout Paris and, therefore, the world. She sang with the voice of an angel, though she was notorious in other ways. The ladies of the stage had an air of respectable disrespectability that added a
frisson
to those who met them. Rumor had it that she was the
chère amie
of a highly placed Russian nobleman who frequently visited Paris. It was undoubted that she lived in an
appartement mueblé
in the very best neighborhood. She had all the confidence in the world but was at the same time was most womanly. Aurelia felt quite shy peering at her from behind the workroom door.

M. Rupier and Mme. Goltier exchanged compliments and fell into companionable chat. Aurelia was not surprised that her employer knew such a famous person—indeed, nobility from many nations wore the scents of the House of Rupier!—but she was not accustomed to conversing with them like old friends.

“. . . not at all, it was my new apprentice, Mlle. Degard. Aurelia!” M. Rupier called.

Mme. Goltier's face broke into an enchanted smile as Aurelia tiptoed cautiously into the room.

“A female apprentice!” she exclaimed. Even her speaking voice was musical.

“Not my first, but my best and last,” M. Rupier said.

“You embarrass me, monsieur,” Aurelia said, keeping her eyes low.

Mme. Goltier reached across the counter and chucked Aurelia's chin high with a cocked finger. The vivid green eyes stared into Aurelia's hazel ones.

“I am all too glad to have you formulate my scent, my child. You shall add a touch of feminine mystery and wiles to my bottle. We understand subtlety better than these rough men.”

“She has already added a new flavor to your perfume, one that I would not have thought of myself,” M. Rupier said. “I believe it is better. You shall test it and judge.”

Aurelia realized that the perfume was still waiting to be decanted. She fled from the showroom and back to the table where the bowl reposed. It was filled with a haze of blue.

“Get out of there!” she hissed at Hyr.

“I was keeping it safe for you, mistress!” the Air sprite said, entirely unrepentant, flowing upward to hover beside her. But he saw to it that not a drop went astray. Aurelia inserted a funnel into the clean atomizer and tipped the globe-shaped bowl above it. All the precious amber fluid flowed neatly into the jar.

She screwed on the top with its gold mesh bulb and carried the jar in both hands out to the waiting client. “Here you are, madame.”

Mme. Goltier aimed the nozzle at her wrist and squeezed the bulb. A fine mist of droplets spread across her golden skin. All three of them inhaled deeply. Aurelia frowned, analyzing the aroma before and after it touched flesh. She waited until it warmed slightly, then sniffed again. Yes, it performed as she intended. The heady scents created a mental state of the exotic realm of the jungle, yet draped with an impression of thick, patterned silks that caressed the senses. She relaxed.

“It is indeed better than before,” Mme. Goltier said, delighted. “Your little apprentice is already a master!”

M. Rupier bowed to her. “She will surpass me one day, wait and see.”

“I do not doubt it,” the lady said. Aurelia felt her cheeks turn red. Mme. Goltier touched one of the glowing apples of her face. “Never be ashamed to honor what God gave you, my little bird.”

M. Rupier gave one of his catlike smiles. “It is what I have been telling her, madame.”

Mme. Goltier peered over her shoulder toward the door, where Alfonse stood guard. “And that other matter that we discussed?”

M. Rupier reached into his waistcoat pocket and brought therefrom a tiny vial half the length of Aurelia's smallest finger. “Be cautious, madame, and be sparing of its use.”

An expression that Aurelia never thought to see on the face of the grand diva appeared there: fear. “I will, my friend. And thank you.”

She tucked the small bottle in the wrist of her glove. “You will send my perfume to my flat?”