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  Matthew 18:10 Perfume Oil

  See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.

  Wool-warm red sandalwood, coconut, strawberry, and blackcurrant.

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• 

  The Last Unicorn Perfume Oil

  The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam, but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea.

  Frosty lilac petals, iris pallida root, orris, violet leaf, white chocolate, coconut, wild lettuce, white sandalwood, white gardenia and oakmoss.

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• 

  Brown Jenkin Perfume Oil

  The yellowed country records containing her testimony and that of her accusers were so damnably suggestive of things beyond human experience – and the descriptions of the darting little furry object which served as her familiar were so painfully realistic despite their incredible details.

  That object – no larger than a good-sized rat and quaintly called by the townspeople “Brown Jenkin – seemed to have been the fruit of a remarkable case of sympathetic herd-delusion, for in 1692 no less than eleven persons had testified to glimpsing it. There were recent rumours, too, with a baffling and disconcerting amount of agreement. Witnesses said it had long hair and the shape of a rat, but that its sharp-toothed, bearded face was evilly human while its paws were like tiny human hands. It took messages betwixt old Keziah and the devil, and was nursed on the witch’s blood, which it sucked like a vampire. Its voice was a kind of loathsome titter, and it could speak all languages. Of all the bizarre monstrosities in Gilman’s dreams, nothing filled him with greater panic and nausea than this blasphemous and diminutive hybrid, whose image flitted across his vision in a form a thousandfold more hateful than anything his waking mind had deduced from the ancient records and the modern whispers.

  A small, furry, sharp-toothed scent that will nuzzle you curiously in the black hours before dawn: dusty white sandalwood and orris root, dry coconut husk, creeping musk, and the residue of ceremonial incense.

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  A Flaming Sword Perfume Oil

  They sat in embarrassed silence, watching the raindrops bruise the first flowers.

  Eventually Crawly said, “Didn’t you have a flaming sword?”

  “Er,” said the angel. A guilty expression passed across his face, and then came back and camped there.

  “You did, didn’t you?” said Crawly. “It flamed like anything.”

  “Er, well-”

  “It looked very impressive, I thought.”

  “Yes, but, well-”

  “Lost it, have you?”

  “Oh no! No, not exactly lost, more-”

  “Well?”

  Aziraphale looked wretched. “If you must know,” he said, a trifle testily, “I gave it away.”

  Crawly stared up at him.

  “Well, I had to,” said the angel, rubbing his hands distractedly. “They looked so cold, poor things, and she’s expecting already, and what with the vicious animals out there and the storm coming up I thought, well, where’s the harm, so I just said, look, if you come back there’s going to be an almighty row, but you might be needing this sword, so here it is, don’t bother to thank me, just do everyone a big favor and don’t let the sun go down on you here.”

  Fiery red amber and sweet oudh, flickers of honeyed patchouli and red musk, pale white coconut flecks, and crushed peppercorn.

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