Max couldn't shake Susan's haunted expression as he unlocked the shop. Her words echoed. Eliza warned me this might happen.
The tiny blue flower from the gravesite now rested in a vial of seawater in his pocket. He'd plucked it impulsively, drawn to its impossible glow.
He flipped the sign to OPEN, though he hardly expected customers. Tuesday afternoons were dead even in tourist season. Perfect for experimenting with new scents or contemplate supernatural pacts with the sea goddess.
The bell chimed, startling him from his thoughts.
A woman stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the afternoon light. She stepped inside, and Max felt the air pressure change, as if the shop itself recognized authority.
She moved with calculated precision, each step clicked against the wooden floors in stiletto heels. Tall, nearly his height with a cascade of hair that black in color. Her navy dress hugged every curve like liquid midnight, expensive and tailored to perfection.
But it was her eyes that froze him in place. Piercing blue, cold as arctic waters, they assessed everything. The shop, the products, and finally… him, with clinical detachment.
"You're Max Payton." Not a question. Her voice cut through the space between them, smooth as polished steel.
"I am." He straightened, suddenly aware of his rumpled shirt and the faint scent of cemetery soil still clinging to his shoes. "Welcome to Payton's Perfumery. How can I help you?"
She didn't bother introducing herself, just circled the shop like a predator, trailing manicured fingers over bottles without actually touching them.
"Quaint," she remarked, the word neither compliment nor insult in her mouth. "Traditional methods. Hand-pressed oils. All very... artisanal."
Max nodded, uncertain whether to follow her or remain behind the counter. "My mother's techniques. Fifth-generation perfumer."
"I know." She turned abruptly. "Anne Blackwood. Solaris Fragrance Group."
Max's stomach dropped. Solaris was the conglomerate buying up small perfumeries across the country, gutting them for formulas and repackaging traditional scents under their luxury label.
"We're not interested in selling," he said automatically.
The corner of her mouth twitched but not quite a smile. "Everyone says that initially."
She drifted closer, and something changed in her expression. Her nostrils flared slightly, and those ice-blue eyes focused on him with sudden intensity.
"What are you wearing?" she demanded.
"Excuse me?"
"Your fragrance." She stepped closer still, invading his personal space without hesitation. "What is it?"
Max swallowed. "Just something I'm working on."
Anne's eyes narrowed. Without warning, she leaned in and inhaled deeply near his neck. Max froze, caught between backing away and maintaining professional composure.
"Impossible," she whispered. Her cool facade cracked, revealing something hungry beneath. "That's not just ambergris. There's something else... something I've never encountered."
She gripped his forearm, her nails digging in slightly through his shirt. "I want it."
"It's not for sale," Max said. "It's still experimental."
"Five thousand dollars."
The amount hung in the air between them. Max blinked, certain he'd misheard.
"Five thousand dollars," she repeated, "for one vial. Right now."
Max's mind raced. The bank payment, the debt collectors, the foreclosure notice, five thousand would buy him time. But this wasn't a normal perfume, it was the goddess's essence mingled with his own.
Anne misinterpreted his hesitation. "Ten thousand, then."
"It's not about the price," Max began.
"Everything has a price, Mr. Payton." Her gaze slid meaningfully around the shop, taking in the dusty shelves, the ancient equipment, the emptiness of the place. "And yours is considerably lower than most."
The casual cruelty in her assessment stung because it contained truth. He was desperate, and she knew it.
"I'll need to extract some," he said finally, deciding on his course. "Wait here."
In the back room, Max's hands trembled. The goddess had said nothing about selling her essence. Was this breaking their agreement before it had even properly begun?
A drop of blood, a bottle of essence. Those were the terms.
Max took a clean vial and pressed it against his wrist, where his pulse beat strongest. He wouldn't sell her his blood, but perhaps the scent that now emanated from his skin—a deception that wouldn't anger the goddess too greatly.
He dabbed his wrist with a handkerchief, then pressed the fabric against the inner glass of the vial. The scent transferred, faint but present. He added three drops of carrier oil, then corked it.
When he returned, Anne stood precisely where he'd left her, though something in her posture had changed. A coiled tension, like a hunting cat preparing to pounce.
"Here." He handed her the vial. "But I should warn you, it may not have the same effect when—"
She snatched it from his hand and uncorked it in one fluid motion. A single, deep inhalation, and her entire body stiffened. Her pupils dilated until the blue of her irises was a thin ring around bottomless black.
"Oh," she breathed, the single syllable charged with something primal. "Oh, this is... extraordinary."
Max watched, fascinated and disturbed, as the powerful businesswoman visibly fought for control. Her breathing quickened, a flush spreading across her cheeks and down her throat, disappearing beneath the neckline of her dress.
Anne recorked the vial with trembling fingers and slipped it into her purse. From within, she extracted a checkbook and fountain pen, scribbling with uncharacteristic haste.
"Ten thousand," she said, tearing the check free and placing it on the counter. "And I'll be back for more. Much more."
Before Max could respond, she turned and strode toward the door, her movements less controlled than when she'd entered. At the threshold, she paused and looked back, her composure partially recovered though her eyes remained dark with want.
"This will change everything for you, Mr. Payton." Her lips curved into something between a smile and a threat. "And for me."
The bell jangled as she left, and Max released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He picked up the check, and it was real, negotiable, and for the promised amount.
Ten thousand dollars. For essentially nothing.
A knot of unease tightened in his stomach. What had he done?
***
That night, Max dreamed of the sea again.
He stood ankle-deep in water that shouldn't have been in his bedroom. Moonlight streamed through the windows, reflecting off the impossible indoor tide that lapped gently against his bed.
"You broke our covenant already."
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, filling the room like the rush of waves against shore. Pale, moon-colored waves rose from the floor. A tall figure emerged, standing over him barefoot, her body wrapped in sea-stitched silk and starlight.
"I didn't—" Max began, but the goddess raised one luminous hand, silencing him.
"You sold what was not yours to sell." Water swirled around her feet, climbing his legs like cold fingers. "My essence. Given to you in trust."
"I needed the money," Max said, honesty spilling from him before he could stop it. "The shop, my mother's debts—"
"I know of your needs." Her voice softened slightly, though the water continued to rise, now at his knees. "But there are proper channels, proper rituals."
Max's heart pounded. "Tell me what to do. How to make this right."
The goddess moved closer, gliding across the water's surface. She reached out, trailing cool fingers down his cheek. Despite his fear, his body responded to her touch, drawn to her otherworldly beauty.
"The woman who purchased my essence… she will return, hungry for more." The goddess's lips curved. "And that hunger will consume her if left unchecked."
"What will happen to her?"
"That depends on you." She leaned closer, her scent—ocean depths, night-blooming flowers, something ancient and unknowable, overwhelming his senses. "Our covenant requires blood and essence freely given. Not sold for profit."
The water receded slightly, pooling around their feet.
"You have a choice to make, Max Payton." Her fingertips traced his lips, leaving them tingling with salt and possibility. "Honor our agreement properly, or watch as my essence destroys those who want it unprepared."