2
" What are you making?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm only cooking so that I can smell something besides you."
There was that edge in his voice again.
He turned up the fire and poured oil into a skillet and water into a pot and then he lined up the jars of spice that Louise kept on the countertop: parsley, oregano, bay leaves, pepper, and thyme, and mini branches of herbs, including basil and dill as well as some lemons and fresh cloves of garlic. He added them to the oil. His plan worked- the kitchen filled up with new odors that did not quite overcome my own, but were certainly gaining ground.
"The ancient Romans wore bay leaves on their heads for virility," he said.
"You don't need any," I said.
"Borage is used to induce abortion. We learned that in the first year of med school."
"I don't need any."
"Arabs believe that cardamom builds good feelings among friends."
"We don't need any other people in our lives."
"I'm showing off, you know."
"I know. Keep going."
"Let's see. Curry powder should always be browned in butter. Fenugreek is hairy and it'll make you dream of sex. Ginger makes men horny, but not women. Lavender should be spread on the bedsheets. Not yours, of course, we don't need to add any more scent to your bed, but it can also be used in making soup."
"I'm impressed. "
― Margot Berwin , Scent of Darkness
8
" The scent of my blood was mesmerizing in its intensity, a luscious, potent, ethereal haze that clung to the walls of the bathroom. It was far more intense than the opening of the vial itself. It was like a thousand ruby red vials. A million. It filled the room like an actual presence, and it dawned on us both at the same time that my blood not only contained the scent, but was the scent itself.
Leather, like warm Egyptian incense, like a dark library in an old city.
Jasmine, like the sweet, sweet scent of decay.
Fire, like hot darkness.
And red velvet rose, like a sheath of light and lilting femininity. "
― Margot Berwin , Scent of Darkness
9
" You always carry a black tarot card with you to breakfast?" she asked.
"This is the first time."
"I bet. I gotta ask you though, why the Magician?"
"A friend gave it to me. Why? What do you know about it?"
"I know you got yourself involved with a black-back magician. That means everything is hidden, and backward. You could run into an animal that doesn't act like one. A magical animal like a rougarou. A werewolf that feasts on evil souls."
I put the card in my back pocket, horizontally, so it wouldn't fall out this time.
"Protect your soul, Eggs."
"I'm not evil," I said, already out the door and on the way to see Michael, who seemed more normal to me at that moment than the waitress at Johnny River's.
"We're all capable of it sometimes," she yelled behind me. "
― Margot Berwin , Scent of Darkness
11
" Anyway, being afraid of a human being is nothing. We're here for such a short period of time, so what does it matter, scared, not scared; what matters is that we last. That's why the blue lotus is so important."
"Why?"
"In legends, immortals are attracted to its scent. Vampires, werewolves, that sort of thing. That's why the ancient Egyptians called it the scent of immortality."
I took Levon's card out of my pocket and rotated the Magician between my fingers. Magical words for good or bad.
"Gabriel told me that you painted werewolves."
"I have painted the odd rougarou from time to time."
"But you don't believe in them?"
"I believe in immortality in whatever form it takes. Paintings, books, music, werewolves. They're all the same- the desire to last forever. In my opinion, every artist is a vampire or a werewolf, or a thief. All we want is to live on and on through the work we do and we'll take whatever we can from the people unlucky enough to be around us- their stories, pieces of their selves, their very souls if they'll let us, which they so often do with surprising ease- in order to reach our creative goals. How is that different from a vampire? "
― Margot Berwin , Scent of Darkness
12
" Vivian Weaver took us from pot to pot in her kitchen, lifting lids, stirring and tasting as she went along. There was seafood gumbo, fried fish and fried chicken, dumplings, butter biscuits, cornbread, fried okra, black-eyed peas, green beans, and bread pudding. "
― Margot Berwin , Scent of Darkness
19
" It had a strange scent, dual in nature. It was dark, like death by fire, and very light, like sunshine and freedom. I felt as if I could choose the side I wanted to be on. As if the perfume were asking me: Evangeline, are you darkness or are you light?
I put the stopper itself to my nose. The power of it made me sit down on my dead grandmother's bed. Straight from the vial, the layers were less abstract, and more distinct. There was jasmine from the south of India, and red velvet roses molting on the vine. Further down there was the unmistakable scent of leather warmed by a slow-burning fire.
But still, there was something else in the perfume that I could not name. I inhaled many times in an attempt to understand it, and although I couldn't I knew without a doubt that it was the most important ingredient in the vial. If I had to describe it, I'd say it was the scent of darkness. "
― Margot Berwin , Scent of Darkness
20
" I don't know. Chicken bones, frizzly hens, all that voodoo stuff gives me the creeps."
He got up and put his arms around me.
"How do you know about frizzly hens?"
"I just do."
"Strange."
"Louise and Fayetteville."
"Ah, yes, Louise. Well, do I give you the creeps?"
"No."
"That's right. And besides, there's a lot more to New Orleans than that. There's gumbo and bread pudding and fried chicken. There are old Victorian homes, music everywhere, and the friendliest, nicest people everywhere. "
― Margot Berwin , Scent of Darkness
