The cemetery sat on a coastal bluff overlooking the ocean. Morning fog lingered in ghostly tendrils between granite headstones as Max picked his way through damp grass. His mother's plot lay beneath an old cypress tree, its branches twisted by decades of sea winds.
He hadn't brought flowers. Instead, he carried a small vial of the last perfume she'd created before her illness. It was bergamot, rosemary, and something else he'd never been able to identify.
"Mom," he whispered, kneeling before the simple stone. "Something is happening. I think I know why you spent all those nights at the shore now. Why you always said our perfumes had something more than just ingredients."
The gravestone offered no answers, just her name etched in granite.
ELIZA PAYTON, BELOVED MOTHER AND CREATOR OF BEAUTY.
Max uncorked the vial, letting three drops fall onto the earth before her headstone. The scent bloomed around him, stronger than it should have been from such a small amount. The fragrance mingled with the sea air, with the goddess's essence that now seemed to pulse beneath his skin.
"I don't know what to do," he admitted. "The shop's failing. Your medical bills... I can't keep up. And now this… whatever this is."
The sound of footsteps on gravel made him turn. A woman approached, her figure emerging from the mist like an apparition. For one wild moment, he thought it might be the goddess herself, come to claim him in the flesh.
"I thought I might find you here," said Aunty Susan, her voice as familiar to Max as his own mother's.
His mother's best friend since childhood, Susan had been a fixture throughout his life. Now she moved toward him with the same graceful confidence she'd always possessed, though time had softened her edges, adding fullness to her curves.
"Aunty Susan." He stood, brushing grass from his knees. "I didn't know you still visited."
"Every Sunday." She gestured to fresh flowers already placed at the headstone's base that he hadn't noticed. "Though usually earlier."
The morning mist had settled on her, tiny droplets clinging to her blonde bob and dampening her blouse until it clung to her figure. There was something almost otherworldly about how she looked. Elegant yet undeniably sensual, with a maternal warmth that had comforted Max through his darkest days after his mother's passing.
"You look exhausted, honey." Susan's eyes, green as sea glass, studied his face. "Eliza would worry."
"The shop's not doing well," he admitted. "I'm behind on everything."
Susan nodded, understanding without needing details. "She always said you'd find your way through. That you had a gift even greater than hers."
Max swallowed hard. "Did she ever tell you about... unusual ingredients? Things she might have collected from the shore?"
Something flickered across Susan's face. Recognition, perhaps concern. "She had her secrets. We all do."
The wind picked up, carrying salt spray from the cliffs. Susan shivered, and Max instinctively moved closer, offering warmth.
"I miss her," he said simply.
Susan's composure cracked. "Every day," she whispered. "We were supposed to grow old together, those two cranky ladies everyone in town gossiped about."
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and Max did what came naturally. He pulled her into an embrace. She felt small against him, fragile despite her womanly curves. Her hair smelled of honeysuckle and something sharper—gin, perhaps, from the night before.
"She'd be proud of you," Susan murmured against his chest. "Trying so hard to keep her legacy alive."
But as she spoke, her breathing changed. He felt her inhale deeply, then freeze in his arms. Her fingers dug into his back.
"Max?" Her voice had shifted, no longer comforting but confused. She inhaled again, pressing closer against him.
Max realized too late what was happening. The goddess's essence, his altered scent. Susan was being affected just like the women at the market.
Her pupils dilated, green iris nearly swallowed by black. She pressed her palms against his chest, not to push away but to feel him through his shirt.
"You smell like..." She couldn't finish, breathing heavily now. "Like the ocean and... and something I can't name."
Max tried to step back, but Susan followed, entranced. Her hands moved up to his face, trembling slightly.
"Aunty Susan, I think—"
"Shh." She leaned closer, her lips parting. For one horrifying moment, Max thought his mother's best friend was about to kiss him. Instead, she buried her nose against his neck and inhaled deeply.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. Susan's entire body shuddered. A sound escaped her throat. Half gasp, half moan. That made Max's ears burn with embarrassment.
Then, like breaking from a trance, she stumbled backward. Horror dawned across her features as awareness returned.
"Oh God," she whispered, hand covering her mouth. "You're... you're not the same."
Max reached for her. "I can explain—"
"No." She backed away, nearly tripping over a neighboring headstone. Her chest heaved with rapid breaths, the damp blouse clinging to her curves. "Stay away from me."
"Aunty Susan, please—"
"Whatever you've done, whatever you've gotten yourself into..." Fear and confusion warred in her expression. "Eliza warned me this might happen. She made me promise—"
She cut herself off, shaking her head violently.
"Promise what?" Max pressed. "What did she tell you?"
Instead of answering, Susan turned and fled, her heels sinking into the damp earth as she half-ran through the cemetery. The mist swallowed her retreating figure, leaving Max alone among the gravestones.
He turned back to his mother's headstone, mind reeling. What had his mother warned Susan about? What promise had she extracted?
The vial of perfume still lay open on the grave. As Max watched, the last drop fell to the earth and vanished. In its place, a tiny blue flower pushed through the soil—a species he'd never seen before, with petals that seemed to glow from within.
The goddess's voice whispered in his mind. "Your mother knew the price of our bargain. So does her friend."
Max stared at the impossible flower, understanding at last that he wasn't the first Payton to make a deal with the sea.