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  Witch-Birds Perfume Oil

  In Sweden tradition says that sorcerers  on Walpurgis night ride to Blocula and there turn into magpies. A lady at Carlstadt in that country was haunted by witch-birds in a very unpleasant manner. Having insulted a Finn woman who had begged food of her she told her to take a magpie that was hanging in a cage and eat it if she was hungry. The Finn cast an ‘evil eye’ on the lady for this insult but took the bird away with her. Some time after the Swedish lady noticed that whenever she went out a magpie came hopping in front of her. This happened for some days running, and then the magpie was joined by a companion bird, and presently by a number. The lady began to get frightened, but the more she tried to get rid of these strange companions the more numerous they became. They perched on her shoulders, tugged at her dress, and pecked at her ankles. In despair she shut herself up indoors, but they remained outside, and as soon as the door was open in they hopped. At last she went to bed and had the shutters closed, and the magpies kept on tapping outside till she died.

   

  Blinding-white mallow and vanilla sandalwood streaked with indigo opium pod accord, velvet black violet petals, wild plum, and opoponax.

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  Sissy, The Ascendant Perfume Oil

  Sassafras and smoke for black vulture feathers, and King mandarin and red musk for the deep red-orange of the vulture’s face. Blue lilac and chamomile / opoponax and vetiver for the blue and black of her eyes. Vanilla bean and fig represent her innate goodness and instinctive kindness.

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  Witch-Cursed Castle Perfume Oil

  You whom Haggard holds in thrall,
  Share his feast and share his fall.
  You shall see your fortune flower
  Till the torrent takes the tower.
  Yet none but one of Hagsgate town
  May bring the castle swirling down.

  Beyond the town, darker than dark, King Haggard’s castle teetered like a lunatic on stilts, and beyond the castle the sea slid. Drinn stopped him as he raised his glass. “Not that toast, my friend. Will you drink to a woe fifty years old? It is that long since our sorrow fell, when King Haggard built his castle by the sea.”

  “When the witch built it, I think.” Schmendrick wagged a finger at him. “Credit where it’s due, after all.”

  “Ah, you know that story,” Drinn said. “Then you must also know that Haggard refused to pay the witch when her task was completed.”

  The magician nodded. “Aye,” and she cursed him for his greed – cursed the castle, rather. “But what had that to do with Hagsgate? The town had done the witch no wrong.”

  “No,” Drinn replied. “But neither had it done her any good. She could not unmake the castle – or would not, for she fancied herself an artistic sort and boasted that her work was years ahead of its time. Anyway, she came to the elders of Hagsgate and demanded that they force Haggard to pay what was due her. ‘Look at me and see yourselves,’ she rasped. ‘That’s the true test of a town, or of a king. A lord who cheats an ugly old witch will cheat his own folk by and by. Stop him while you can, before you grow used to him.’” Drinn sipped his wine and thoughtfully filled Schmendrick’s glass once more.

  “Haggard paid her no money,” he went on, “and Hagsgate, alas, paid her no heed. She was treated politely and referred to the proper authorities, whereupon she flew into a fury and screamed that in our eagerness to make no enemies at all, we had now made two.” He paused, covering his eyes with lids so thin that Molly was sure he could see through them, like a bird. With his eyes closed, he said, “It was then that she cursed Haggard’s castle, and cursed our town as well. Thus his greed brought ruin upon us all.”

  In the sighing silence, Molly Grue’s voice came down like a hammer on a horseshoe, as though she were again berating poor Captain Cully. “Haggard’s less at fault than you yourselves,” she mocked the folk of Hagsgate, “for he was only one thief, and you were many. You earned your trouble by your own avarice, not your king’s.”

  Drinn opened his eyes and gave her an angry look. “We earned nothing,” he protested. “It was our parents and grandparents whom the witch asked for help, and I’ll grant you that they were as much to blame as Haggard, in their way. We would have handled the matter quite differently.” And every middle-aged face in the room scowled at every older face.

  One of the old men spoke up in a voice that wheezed and miaowed. “You would have done just as we did. There were crops to harvest and stock to tend, as there still are. There was Haggard to live with, as there still is. We know very well how you would have behaved. You are our children.”

  Weed-strewn oak, opoponax, wet stone, creaking redwood, and desolate olibanum.

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  Bram Stoker Beard Oil

  No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.

  Bourbon vetiver with opoponax, Italian bergamot, and hay absolute.

  Illustrated by Abigail Larson.

  Purchase the tee here!

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