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  The Carousel Perfume Oil

  Calliope music played: a Strauss waltz, stirring and occasionally discordant. The wall as they entered was hung with antique carousel horses, hundreds of them, some in need of a lick of paint, others in need of a good dusting; above them hung dozens of winged angels constructed rather obviously from female store-window mannequins; some of them bared their sexless breasts; some had lost their wigs and stared baldly and blindly down from the darkness.

  And then there was the carousel.

  A sign proclaimed it was the largest in the world, said how much it weighed, how many thousand lightbulbs were to be found in the chandeliers that hung from it in Gothic profusion, and forbade anyone from climbing on it or from riding on the animals.

  And such animals! Shadow stared, impressed in spite of himself, at the hundreds of full-sized creatures who circled on the platform of the carousel. Real creatures, imaginary creatures, and transformations of the two: each creature was different. He saw mermaid and merman, centaur and unicorn, elephants (one huge, one tiny), bulldog, frog and phoenix, zebra, tiger, manticore and basilisk, swans pulling a carriage, a white ox, a fox, twin walruses, even a sea serpent, all of them brightly colored and more than real: each rode the platform as the waltz came to an end and a new waltz began. The carousel did not even slow down.

  “What’s it for?” asked Shadow. “I mean, okay, world’s biggest, hundreds of animals, thousands of lightbulbs, and it goes around all the time, and no one ever rides it.”

  “It’s not there to be ridden, not by people,” said Wednesday. “It’s there to be admired. It’s there to be.”

  A place of power and possibility, of gods diabolical and celestial: glowing amber and heady cinnamon, the green of growing things and the white of thunderclaps, sweet myrrh and sacred styrax, forest moss and blood-soaked battlefields, papyrus and clay, rose petals, wildflowers, abbatoirs, and honey.

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  Non-Compliant Perfume Oil

  Too butch, too femme, too sexy, not sexy enough, too smart, too big, too loud, too angry.

  Sugar and bile, leather and blood, honey and rum, shredded patchouli and vetiver, tobacco and lime.

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  Berzerker Perfume Oil

  Thick furs, strips of leather, and a blood-stained axe with crushed poplar bud and juniper.

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  The Sea Foams Blood Perfume Oil

  When you return go alone, just you and the children and when you approach the beach then call for me:

  Zilvine, Zilvineli,
  If alive, may the sea foam milk
  If dead, may the sea foam blood…

  And if you see coming towards you foaming milk then know that I am still alive, but if blood comes then I have reached my end. While you, my children, let not the secret out, do not let anyone know how to call for me.

  Blood rising through an ocean wave.

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page