CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I sat at the vanity mirror in my room, taking down my pin curls and gently running my fingers through my hair. I didn’t want to lose my waves, so I took care not to comb too hard, and ended up pleased with the results. I refused to wear perfume, as the thought of Simon using my pleasant smell as an excuse to put his face near me made me cringe. The most important accessory was, of course, my red garnet lipstick. Brande once jokingly called it, “love potion on a stick.”
The red garnet stone enhanced one’s romantic desire and inclinations and, when ground and mixed in with something as common as a lady’s lipstick, would go undetected. One kiss, mixed with my intention and energy, would send the target into a state of mind where he would obey any command and perform any action for the sake of pleasing the object of his affection.
The red garnet lasted longer than my body magic’s mind control spell, and with the lipstick, I didn’t have to renew the spell so soon or keep physical contact with the person. Red garnet had its benefits, especially if I wanted to reserve my magical energy for other spells. At the same time, it could also be dangerous, because red garnet also inspired aggression and violence.
I would never put this in the hands of an inexperienced or ill-intentioned person, and even I had only used it twice before: on a mercenary spy who the London office believed double-crossed our French SOE friends, and a very handsome wizard who had lied about being trained by the Gray Tower, and infiltrated the Maquis so he could steal information for the Nazis.
With slow strokes, I applied the lipstick and took a long look at myself in the mirror. Sometimes I imagined myself stalking one of those beautiful Hollywood actresses and working a spell on her so that she would have to tell me the secret of those tiny waists and perfectly sculptured figures. I slipped on my Agate stone ring. Its deep green matched the color of my eyes, and the Bracelet of Vitriol I had made from the supplies Brande brought me. Something like this would fetch a very high price on the black market, and only Apprentices like me knew how to properly make them. I had known some Practitioners to have made decent wages opening their own shops and making all kinds of charms, talismans, and potions. Still, even the best Practitioner Alchemist couldn’t make vitriol.
Vitriol was a chemical compound of sulfuric salts. It would be like eggs in the world of baking—highly desirable, used often, and you couldn’t make the really good stuff without it. Alchemists used vitriol to transmute base metals into gold (though no one has figured out yet how to make this permanent), and to create weapons and charms.
I carved my salts into little beads, which I then fixed onto the gold bracelet Jasmine had given me. I placed in three red vitriol beads, which would lend me energy, three white beads for mental and physical purification, and black vitriol made from iron, which would provide me with protection from evil yet deal deadly blows to my foes. I decided to set three of each color, because three was a lucky number, and nine was the mystical number for endurance.
I slid my knife into the leather sheath strapped to my leg and then slipped into my heels. With a long deep sigh, I fondled my bracelet and headed out the door. Simon would arrive at any moment. I went outside and sat at the bench where I had earlier spoken with Lucien. As the sky dimmed and purpled, I scanned the nearby area. A few couples strolled down the street in each other’s arms, and shopkeepers called out to them in an attempt to get a last sale for the day. A couple of German Armed Forces soldiers patrolled on foot, but I didn’t see any of the SS officers.
Within minutes, I noticed Simon walk up, and I caught his eye. He looked over to the right, and then to his left, like a sneaky little rat. He approached and took a seat next to me, greeting me with a grin.
“You look...mesmerizing.”
“Thank you.” I forced a smile.
“Your cousin will not be joining us, will he?” He rumbled with laughter.
“No, it will be just you and me.” Why couldn’t he at least be twelve years younger? He looked like one of those men that you just knew had been attractive back in his youth.
“He would just spoil our fun. Shall we?” He offered his arm, and I took it.
We walked arm-in-arm down the street, turning the corner at Rue de Vesle, the major street in the city. As the night sky settled and the stars began to peek out, shopkeepers finally closed their doors and pedestrians quickened their pace.
A gypsy, wearing a hooded cloak and raggedy clothes sat on the sidewalk and leaned against the grocer’s store edifice. He played a mandolin, and would stop to rattle the change in his upturned hat whenever someone passed. One of the passersby caught the grocer in time and paid him for a wrapped meat sandwich, which he threw into the gypsy’s hat.
“A franc to spare, sir?” He played a quick tune and gestured toward his hat. I smiled and tossed in the money.
“For god’s sake,” Simon said through clenched teeth, “didn’t I tell you last week to get out of my city?”
“Your city?”
“Yes, my city, you filthy parasite! If I see you again, I’ll shoot you.”
“Let’s go, Simon.” I wanted to hit him with a Putrefaction spell...right in his face.
“We’ll stop by Ruinart, Noelle.” He buried his face in my hair and inhaled. We began walking again.
“You mean the champagne house?” I shied away.
“Yes, their cellars are caves that date back to the time of the Romans, and the house is one of the oldest in town.”
“It sounds wonderful, but I don’t drink, remember? And it’s getting late.”
“It’s very mild and smooth, you’ll see. It’s a wonderful alternative to ale and wine. And don’t worry about the time, because I always leave Ruinart open.”
“Then perhaps I’ll try a glass.” I turned my face away so he wouldn’t see me scowl.
“Wonderful, darling. Look, there it is.”
We approached the champagne house and entered. The host sat us at a candlelit table and Simon ordered the Cuvée for us. The ambiance would have put me in a romantic mood if I had been with someone else. There were both old and young couples enjoying champagne and intimate chatter, and some snuggled in secluded corners. A group of friends sat near the pianist who played a slow melodious song. After drinking a few glasses, I rubbed my white vitriol beads on my bracelet to prevent becoming befuddled from the drinks. Simon, on the other hand, drank twice as many glasses as I did. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to use the red garnet kiss after all.
“See those two lovers at that table in the corner?” He pointed toward a young man and woman who held hands and sat closely.
“She seems happy.”
“You’ve never seen them before, but can’t you feel what’s going on in the air around them? Passion is life, Noelle.”
“But one shouldn’t be blinded by it.” I finished off my Cuvée, secretly envying them. How I would have given anything to be in that woman’s place, with someone I loved, gazing into his eyes with such depth and intensity, relishing each touch and kiss.
“Come with me, I want to show you something.” He grabbed my hand, led me away from the table, and further inside toward the cellar entrance.
“How far do we have to go to reach the caves?”
“Not far, but we’ll not take the stairway down.” He went over to a shaft where a double rope hung. It reminded me of a dumbwaiter. The servant boys likely used it in their daily tasks of quickly hauling bottles and supplies between the cellars and the champagne house.
“What are you doing?” I ran over just in time to see him grab the rope and start rappelling down the shaft. He was surprisingly agile and he landed at the bottom with a huge smile on his face.
“Are you afraid to come down? Or will you take the plunge?”
“I’m not afraid.” I smirked and grabbed the rope, gliding and rappelling until I landed in his arms.
“For a moment, I thought you would run to the other side and take the stairs.” He set me down.
“I have more courage than
you think, Simon.”
“Indeed.”
We walked through a narrow passageway which opened up into the first cave. Rows of wine racks lined up perfectly into organized sections, and sconces with real torches were fixed to the wall, a testimony to the cellar’s medieval origin.
“Tell me, what are you thinking of?” He stood behind me and swept my hair over my right shoulder, planting a kiss on my neck.
I rolled my eyes and turned to face him. “How big are these caves?”
“Extremely big, my dear.” He held my hand and caressed it.
“Mm, yes...well, tell me about yourself. What do you do here?”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Let’s not ruin our moment with talk of work. I don’t have to work today or tomorrow, so why not enjoy ourselves while we can?”
“One last question, then.” I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and I saw his glassy eyes redden.
“One last question, my dear, and then no more talking.”
“Is it true that there’s a laboratory in the city?”
He paused for a long moment, and then guffawed, leaning on me for support. “Oh, Noelle...”
I prodded him further. “The laboratory, Simon.”
Suddenly he grabbed a fistful of my hair and shoved his pistol beneath my chin. The hairs on the back of my neck stood, and a quiet cold dread grew inside me. Apparently he wasn’t as drunk as I thought he was, and a drunken man with a gun was as unpredictable as he was dangerous.
“Do you work for the Maquis? Or the Americans or British?”
“Does it matter?” I bit my lip, hoping that my response didn’t provoke him to shoot me.
“Perhaps it doesn’t, since I’m certain you’ll never be found.”
“You knew I was a spy?”
He shook his head. “But I was going to take what I wanted and kill you anyway.”
“You’re a rotten bastard.”
“A rotten bastard with a gun.” He tilted my head back and pressed his lips against mine, kissing me roughly. He pulled back and breathed heavily staring at me as if hypnotized. He was now under the influence of the red garnet lipstick.
“Listen to me,” I turned to face him. “I want you to put your gun away.”
“Of course.” he placed it back into his coat pocket and kissed me again. This wasn’t good. A second kiss would make the enchantment even stronger.
I broke away and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “Now, if you really want to please me, Simon, you’ll tell me about the lab.”
“The laboratory is a few miles south in the largest cave. All these caves and tunnels run like a maze beneath the city.”
“Is Dr. Heilwig there too?”
“Yes.”
“If the lab’s here, then why aren’t there more officers and guards?”
“It would draw too much attention and become a target, like Vélizy-Villacoublay.”
“Who’s guarding the lab down here?”
“Can I kiss you again?”
“Later, Simon.”
The storybooks and films presented the effects of love enchantments all wrong. They portrayed the lover sitting around mooning over his beloved in a brainless reverie, but in reality, he still kept his own will, his own thinking, and his own annoying questions.
“Please, just another kiss.”
“All right, but first...” I pushed him away, “first, I want you to find some chalk like the ones the servants use down here. Mark the way to the lab so that I’ll be able to find it. Make sure your markers blend in with the old graffiti, so that no one else will notice. When you come back, I’ll be waiting.”
“And then we’ll kiss?”
“Yeah, sure. But, Simon, while you’re at home tomorrow, remember not to take any calls or receive any visitors until later that evening. Understood?”
“Yes, this will be between you and me. I promise.”
“Good, now go make the marks like I asked.” I was nervous about asking him to do anything else, because the more steps to a task, the more opportunities there were to mess it up. Besides, I didn’t want to be around for his impatience and aggression to grow stronger. Why did the fool have to kiss me a second time?
He began executing my orders without further question, and I decided to leave him for tonight. I’d get a hold of him later if I needed another important question answered, or even a map. I headed toward the stairway that led back up to the champagne house. I trembled from the adrenaline still coursing through my veins and shook with rage. Had I been a defenseless girl, I would have been violated and dead. How many other women had he done this to?
Simon Vester wasn’t just a man of ill repute—he was the devil.
I took a deep breath and left Ruinart, heading back down Rue de Vesle. The streets were cold and empty, and I worried whether or not Simon would grow difficult and even more unpredictable. All I wanted to do now was return to my room and go to bed. I didn’t know how late it was, but I didn’t care. I just needed to sleep off the angst and frustration of my evening. As I neared Le Fleur, I felt a presence near me, and I slowed my pace.
“How long have you been following me?”
“Since you left Ruinart.” Brande came up by my side and fell in step with me.
“The laboratory is hidden in one of the caves beneath the city. We can reach it by going through the Ruinart cellars.”
“Where’s Vester?”
“Probably still roaming the caves.”
“You used the red garnet lipstick?” He held the front door open for me, and I went in.
“Yes.” I glanced at him and saw his eyes narrow.
“You could’ve just used mind control.” He walked upstairs with me.
“He’s wearing Veit Heilwig’s talisman ring, it wouldn’t have worked.”
A blaze of anger, directed at myself, ran through me when I remembered that I should’ve asked for Veit’s ring while in the cellars with Simon. I unlocked my door and opened it, not bothering to close it since I knew Brande would come in as well.
“You’re not hurt, are you?”
“Why do you ask?” I took off my shoes and decided that a nice hot bath would soothe me before bed.
“When you left the champagne house, you looked upset.”
“I was, but I’m fine now.”
“I’ll keep watch again.”
“I’m going to take a bath. Can you come back in an hour?” I almost forgot about my knife. I reached for the sheath and unstrapped it, placing the knife on the nightstand.
“An hour, you say?”
“It’ll give you plenty of time to tell Gabriel and the others about the lab, and I’m sure you’ve already planned how you’re going to kill Vester, so you can sit and compare notes.”
“I’ll...see you in an hour.”
The Tower's Alchemist (The Gray Tower Trilogy, #1) Page 27
