Chapter 20 Faye
FAYE
At dusk, down the cobbled alley just off Crescent Corner, Faye pushed open the stained-glass door, and the scent of warm amber and orange wafted out to welcome her into Madame Fauna’s perfumery.
She’d wanted Peter to come with her to help her pick some gifts, but he hadn’t returned from his soul collection by the time she closed the café, and she hadn’t wanted to risk the perfumery closing before she got there.
Faye ran her fingers along the edge of the curved, dark chestnut shelves, admiring the ornate bottles of all shapes and sizes, unsure what scents they contained.
With names like Siren Song, Ghoul Gardenia, and Velvet Viper, it was hard to tell whether these were fragrances or potions.
What would Gwendoline like? She thought Peter might have gone to see his mum before coming home.
She couldn’t believe she thought of the café as his home now, but two weeks had passed since that evening at the cemetery, and they’d spent every night since together.
Behind the counter, Fauna emerged from the heavy crimson curtain that separated the shop from her blending room, wearing layers of lace and playing with the strands of pearls around her neck.
“I thought I heard someone come in!” She beamed. “I was drying out some flowers in the back and got distracted. How can I help?”
“I was only browsing – I’m not really sure what I’m looking for,” Faye said, picking up a small testing vial and holding it under her nose. The smell of liquorice nearly knocked her off her feet.
“That’s what I’m here for.” Fauna studied her, carefully assessing as she ran her pearls through her fingers. “Something sweet, but light. A quiet confidence, with a hint of rebellion. I’m thinking vanilla base, maybe jasmine, with white musk and a touch of almond blossom?”
“Thank you, it sounds lovely, but I’m actually not here for myself. I’m looking for a thank-you gift.”
“I’m great at giving gifts. Who did you have in mind? Family? Lover?”
“Friends, I think. Do you know what scents Mrs Matherson and Benedict might like?” Faye asked, unsure of what the right gift would be to say ‘thank you for saving my life’.
“Say no more. Mrs Matherson is a dear client of mine, and Lucinda was in at Christmas. We made something for Benedict, which he has since repurchased, so I can draw up some of their blends – or we can create something new from their favourite extracts,” Fauna said, taking out small tinctures of various coloured oils.
“Maybe something new? I want them to know I put some heart into this,” Faye said, eager for input.
“That’s exciting! I’ve been eager to try some new spicy scents for them.
With their fire element, I would stick to warm notes,” Fauna suggested eagerly.
“For Gwendoline, I’m thinking patchouli, birch, styrax, with a touch of vanilla would be a perfect blend.
Rich and strong but not overwhelming, with a smoky, spicy aroma that lingers. ”
“That sounds lovely.” Faye watched intently as the woman deftly lifted bottles from the shelf and mixed up a quick sample in a small vial.
“As for Benedict, let me see what I’ve gathered for Lucinda and whether we can create a new cologne combining his favourite scent with Lucinda’s brew. I think I have some in the back; let me check,” Fauna said, hurrying back through the curtain.
“Take your time.” While she waited, Faye held up the sample to her nose, unable to understand how Fauna could imbue a scent with personality. It was as if she had bottled Mrs Matherson.
She sneezed. Perhaps it was a little strong.
“Bless you.” Peter appeared at her side. Faye dropped the tincture, but thankfully he caught it before it broke against the glass counter.
“Thank you,” she chuckled, not even jumping. She was proud her nervous system was getting used to his jump-scares. “How long have you been here?”
“Not long. I was heading to the manor when I saw you in the window. What are you up to?” He glanced at the oils on the counter.
“Fire scents? Buying me a present? A little early for Christmas.” He lifted one of the tinctures and shook his head after taking a sniff.
It made sense – the scent wasn’t for him.
His personality was nothing like Benedict’s calm, controlled, stoic demeanour; he was playful yet rebellious.
She couldn’t help but wonder what Fauna would say about his scent.
“It’s not for you,” she said, taking the cinnamon scent from him.
“I should hope not. Smells like my brother.” Peter winced.
“I’m getting something for your mum and Benedict as a thank-you for stepping in with Ian. I didn’t think baked goods were enough to say ‘thank you for not letting me get my throat ripped out’.”
“So, you think they’ll like the gift?” she asked, only for him to disappear before he could respond.
“Is everything all right?” Fauna asked, popping her head through the curtain.
“Fine! I was just talking out loud, trying to figure out the right combination. Mrs Matherson is a hard woman to please, so I want it to be perfect.” Faye forced a smile.
“Try the second shelf to the right – something warm for Gwendoline. I’m almost done putting together Benedict’s bottle,” Fauna said, disappearing into the back again.
Faye glared at Peter when he reappeared.
“Warm? Has Madame Fauna met my mother?” He chuckled.
“Maybe this isn’t the best idea for a gift.” Faye groaned.
“It’s a great idea – just get Mum something that isn’t too feminine,” he said, picking up and smelling an obsidian bottle of perfume from the shelf beside him. “This one is nice; not too strong, and not a floral in sight.”
“I like it, but do you think it’s a bit heavy? Here’s the shelf Fauna recommended – it’s more unisex,” Faye said, holding up a different, deep purple bottle under his nose. “This one is a little sweeter.”
“Perfect! She’ll love it,” Peter announced.
“Really?”
“Did you call me?” Fauna asked, popping her head through again.
“I didn’t say a word.” Faye smiled.
“Right.” She frowned, disappearing again.
Faye swatted Peter playfully. “Can you please stop disappearing every time she comes back? She’s going to think I’m insane, just talking to myself!”
“I thought we agreed to keep us quiet, and you have to admit, we’re both a little insane,” he teased, and she rolled her eyes at him.
“Quiet? This is your idea of quiet? You’ve been staying at mine every night since your anniversary.
My customers have seen you coming and going at all hours.
If death hadn’t already parted us, I’d be surprised the town isn’t ringing the wedding bells,” Faye quipped.
He was right – they must be insane to think they had a future.
“Technically, a binding wouldn’t be out of the question,” he said, sitting up on the counter.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Faye began, but the sound of the door opening startled her.
“Faye?” Mrs Crawford said, struggling to come in with her arms full of dried flowers. “Can you give me a hand?”
“Of course.” Faye searched the room for any sign of Peter, who had either teleported out or was lurking invisibly in some corner. She took a box of dried and cut flowers from Mrs Crawford’s arms, not sure how the woman managed to balance so well in heels that high.
“Thank you. I should’ve taken two trips,” she sighed, placing the rest on the floor beside the end of the counter and out of the way of customers. Faye put the box on top of the others and couldn’t help but notice the concern in Mrs Crawford’s gaze, as if she wanted to say something.
“Madame Fauna is just looking for something for me in the back if you need her?” she asked, trying to cut the tension. She rested her hand on the counter where Peter had been sitting to check that he’d left.
“It’s fine, I can get an invoice later. Shopping for yourself?” Mrs Crawford asked, removing her gloves. She wasn’t the type for small talk.
“I was getting a gift for the Mathersons. They helped—”
“Put that demon ex of yours right where he belongs! I don’t think I’ve ever seen the coven so united in a decision. I voted to defang him, would’ve loved the pleasure of taking them myself, but I was outvoted.”
Faye chewed her lip to stop herself from smiling. Clearly, they’d both had the same idea.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to pick at your wounds.”
“Don’t worry, the whole town knows about my wounds; no point in being bashful about them.”
Mrs Crawford turned to leave, and Faye thought she was in the clear until she hesitated by the door. “I don’t mean to overstep, but as a woman older than you, I want you to know that you can come to me if you need to.”
Faye hadn’t seen this coming. “Thank you, but can I ask why?”
“I was close with your mum for a time. A book club that mostly involved too much wine and gossip and far fewer chapters read.”
“I didn’t know,” Faye said, curious about where this was going.
“Well, even if I don’t agree with your mother’s decision to leave, I did mention to her that I would keep an eye on you if you needed it, and I know you’re a grown woman who can make her own choices…” Mrs Crawford fidgeted, taking her gloves out of her pocket.
“I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at,” Faye confessed.
Mrs Crawford cleared her throat, looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here. “I’ll be blunt. I’ve noticed that Peter Matherson has been leaving Stoker’s early in the morning, when I’m on my way to the flower market, and I’m concerned.”
“We’re friends.” Faye’s lie felt heavy on her tongue; she’d known this confrontation was bound to come sooner or later.
“Right, and you’ve every right to be friends with whoever you like. But I just want to remind you that you should be careful.”
“Be careful of Peter? He’d never hurt me,” Faye said, wondering where this warning was coming from. She understood Mrs Crawford’s need to look out for her, but Peter was the least of her worries.