Who don’t believe in sensible rules,

And won’t believe what sensible people say,

And because these daft and dewey-eyed dopes keep building up impossible hopes,

Impossible things are happening every day."

As Brenda Barrett closed and locked the front door of her aromatherapy and perfume shop, Scents of Angels, she stopped for a minute to wipe the perspiration from the back of her neck. There was nothing worse than a 90 degree summer day in New Orleans -- unless it was a 90 degree day with 90 degree humidity in New Orleans.

She bent over in an undignified manner to put her purse and small briefcase on the sidewalk between her ankles. There weren’t many other crazy people out at this time of day, most of them having the good sense to stay in the air conditioning. Once Brenda fished around in her purse and found an elastic band, she straightened and hurriedly pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Wiping the back of her neck with her hand again, she picked up her purse and briefcase and began the long walk home.

Brenda really didn’t mind walking to and from her shop. As an aromatherapist, Brenda relished the smells of New Orleans in the hot summer. The odors that wafted out of some of the open doors made her mouth water for beignets dusted with powdered sugar or café au’lait. But it was the more spicy aromas of the Cajun cooking and the unusual scents of the many tiny shops offering exotic wares that really intrigued her.

As Brenda began to cross one of the narrow streets in the French Quarter, she looked around for a moment. An alleyway halfway down the cross street seemed to beckon to her. She hesitated for a moment, biting her lower lip in indecision. Should she give in to her curiosity and take the shortcut? Maybe there would be some new shop that might prove to have interesting sources for her potions.

Brenda hesitated for one more minute, and then turned briskly and bounced down to the alleyway. It was deserted, but short. Brenda could see where it opened into the next street. She looked behind her once more. Nobody. She looked ahead. Nobody. What could the harm be?

As she ventured further down the alley, her sensitive nose was drawn to several of the back doors. Cinnamon. Someone was baking something strongly laced with cinnamon. And jasmine. The baker had bathed with jasmine bath salts that morning. Brenda smiled. She prided herself on her ability to distinguish so many different scents. {And to think that Sonny actually thought he could pass off *my* perfume as his! To think that he tried to claim he didn’t steal it from *me*! He couldn’t tell the difference between the scent of sandalwood and the scent of old sandals!}

Brenda began to get so distracted by her thoughts of her former boyfriend/business partner that she almost missed it. Fortunately, her angry thoughts quickly dissipated when she smelled it.

{That’s it! I can’t believe it! That’s grandma’s perfume!}

Brenda turned around, trying desperately to see a possible source for the odor that had faded as quickly as it appeared. She slowed her pace, peering into the clouded windows of the shady establishments located in this obscure alley of the French Quarter. An adult video store? Not likely. The aromas that came out of stores like that could hardly be described as perfume. A trendy coffee bar? As Brenda took one look at the décor through the window, she decided that any coffee served inside was probably laced with something that was extremely illegal.

The last shop on the right side of the alley finally caught her eye. Some antique lamps, their shades edged with long purple fringe, lit the window. A lava lamp bubbled next to oddly shaped bottles and jars. Mobiles of stars and moons hung from the ceiling. A table near the window held a large crystal ball, regally displayed on a black wrought-iron pedestal. As Brenda tried to see further inside the shop, she could make out a wall covered by small cubicles. There were glass containers in the cubicles, and brown bags and large scoops on a shelf in front of the wall. The opposite wall held shelf after shelf of what appeared to be old books.

Brenda looked up at the sign, which she hadn’t recalled seeing previously.

Brenda took a deep breath. Magic. That word alone should have sent her screaming in the opposite direction out of the alleyway. Brenda often said that her mother, Veronica, had never outgrown her hippie phase from the 1960’s. After Brenda’s father, Harlan, divorced Veronica, she found solace in her tea leaves and beaded curtains. Whenever Brenda spent time with Veronica, she swore that Veronica played the song "Black Magic Woman" at least a dozen times. Veronica was a sworn believer in the supernatural, and she tried with all her might to convert Brenda every chance she got.

Just as Brenda was about to turn and leave, she smelled it again. Her grandmother’s perfume. It was Veronica’s mother’s signature scent. Every time she came to visit them, Brenda remembered sitting on her lap and inhaling the scent until it seemed to permeate her sinuses. After her grandmother passed away, Brenda went into her bedroom and carefully looked through her perfume atomizers, searching for the bottle bearing the name of that elusive scent. But it was gone, just like her grandmother.

If she could just pin down that fragrance and re-produce it, it would give Scents of Angels just the shot in the arm it needed. She could once and for all trounce Sonny’s upstart perfume label, Deception. Armed with that resolution, Brenda pushed open the door of the magic shop.

The first thing that greeted her was two sets of small, beady, black eyes. As Brenda drew closer to them in the dimly-lit shop, she finally could make out that the two sets of eyes belonged to a pair of very quiet cockatoos. One was pure white with a brilliant red comb, and the other was an exotic shade of green with yellow feathers on top of his head. "Hi ‘ya, fellas," Brenda said softly. "Which one of you is Miri and which one is Dana?" She laughed at her own joke, but then sobered quickly and began hunting.

Brenda moved towards the rows of antique-looking bottles. She sniffed carefully, finally picking up a dusty blue flacon with a plain cork for a stopper. She pulled out the cork and a puff of dust went into her eyes, but when she applied the cork to her wrists and took a sniff, she did a dance for joy. She had found it on the first try.

As she re-corked her treasure, she walked back over to where the two birds sat, silently watching her every move. "So, gals, what do you say? How much do you want for this old dusty thing?" One of the birds turned to preen its wings. "Well, I can see you’ve got a lot to learn about customer relations, don’t ‘cha?"

"Was there something *I* could help you with?" The husky voice sounded so closely behind her that Brenda jumped and turned, almost knocking down the standing bird perch in the process. As it was, she put her hand out to keep herself from falling, and when her hand came too close to the birds’ perch, the white one leaned down and bit her thumb.

"OUCH!" Brenda yelped, spinning to give the bird a dirty look. "Hey there, don’t you know that it’s rude to bite the customers?"

The husky voice came back again, drawing Brenda’s attention away from her injury. "You must excuse my babies. They’re not accustomed to strangers being that close."

"Yeah, well, I think I just remembered why I’m a cat person," Brenda groused, rubbing her finger and examining it for breaks in the skin.

"Let us begin again," the woman said, folding her bejeweled hands serenely. "Can I help you?"

"I guess so," Brenda said cautiously, still keeping one eye on the feathered meat-eaters behind her. "I came in here because I was interested in a particular scent." She picked up the blue flacon, which had been knocked to the floor in the scuffle with the birds. "The one in this bottle."

"Ahh….a wise choice," the mysterious woman said, coming more into the light so that Brenda could get a good look at her. She was petite, not much taller than Brenda. Her hair was jet black, and her eyes, although heavily laden with violet shadow and black mascara, were enormous and expressive. She wore a very dark blue blouse which was gathered at the neckline, and a matching blue full skirt, complete with flounce of lighter blue ruffles. The blue complimented an unusual necklace she wore – an amulet of palest blue in the shape of a square. When Brenda shifted her position ever so slightly, she noticed that the amulet seemed to change colors – from light blue to green, with hints of violet and gray.

{This gal could be a real knockout – if she ever got an Elizabeth Arden makeover, that is.} Brenda looked her up and down warily. "Well, I’m in the perfume business, and I’d like to purchase this scent so that I can try to reproduce it." Brenda smiled. "It reminds me of a scent that my grandmother used to wear."

"I am more than willing to sell you the flacon and what remains of the perfume, my dear," the woman crooned, "but your efforts to duplicate it will be fruitless. It cannot be reproduced."

As the woman turned and walked towards the back of the store, Brenda pursued her, still holding the flacon. "Do you mean because it’s under some kind of patent? Is it already being commercially produced?"

The mystery woman paused, but didn’t turn back to face Brenda. "No….." She paused, and Brenda realized that she was taking the next step in customer relations.

"Brenda. You can call me Brenda. So are you Miri or Dana?"

The woman slowly revolved, a smile on her face that Brenda didn’t exactly classify as signifying happiness. "Madame Miri is close enough, thank you."

"OK, so now that’s we’re on a first-name basis, you can tell me why I can’t re-create this scent."

"It is impossible," Madame Miri said cryptically. "That is all that remains of the original sample, and to re-create it requires talents beyond telling."

"Oh, I don’t know about that," Brenda said confidently. "I’ve been told I’ve got one of the best noses in New Orleans – when it comes to scents, that is," she said with a touch of modesty.

"I’m sure you are quite talented," the woman conceded. "But I meant that it takes something quite special – something not of this Earth – to reproduce that scent."

"And I’ll just bet that if the price is right, you’ll tell me, right?" Brenda said, suddenly sensing a con game.

"Quite the contrary, my dear," Madame Miri replied. "There is no cost for the information as to *how* to duplicate the scent. It can easily be done – but only when assisted by a djinni."

"A what? Did you say a genie?" Brenda laughed, her voice raucous with sarcasm. "You mean that I need to call up Barbara Eden and ask her to come over for tea in her little harem costume?"

Madame Miri’s face clouded over with barely-contained rage. "I am not familiar with this Barbara person of whom you speak, but I seriously doubt that she possesses the mystical powers of the djinn." She whirled to face the back of the shop, her skirts flying, but then turned back with an afterthought. "And you, as do most humans, mispronounce the word. It is DJINNI, not gee-nee. The plural form is properly djinn."

"Well, excuuuuuse me," Brenda replied, still suspecting that she was the object of this woman’s attempted con. She folded her arms and tapped her foot. "So, just how do you know so much about the……djinn?" Madame Miri turned around and arched one eyebrow gracefully. "Oh, wait ……don’t tell me. You’re one too, right?"

Madame Miri folded her hands. "I knew that you were a perceptive woman as soon as you came into my shop, Brenda."

Brenda put her hands on her hips. "So, if you *are* a djinni, then why can’t you just help me reproduce the scent? Why do I have to get another djinni to help me?" Madame Miri took a breath to answer, but Brenda waved her hand in the air and cut her off. "No, wait……I bet I know the answer to that one, too! I have to call *another* djinni to help me because that way I’ll have to buy the bottle he lives in from you, too!"

Madame Miri shook her head. "It is truly sad. I thought you had the gift. I thought you were a true believer, Brenda. As they say so frequently on your Earth – have a nice day."

Madame Miri spun to go back into her back room. She was almost at the curtain of beads when Brenda spoke. "Wait. Don’t go. I promise I won’t make fun of any more of your customs." As Madame Miri turned cautiously to face her again, Brenda moved a little closer. "So what’s your bottom line?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Brenda groaned to herself. She felt the price going up by the second, particularly if this woman continued her "I’m-not-from-this-world" act. "What’s the price? For the bottle of perfume and you telling me how to get a djinni to help me."

Madame Miri moved slowly back towards Brenda until her hands were almost touching Brenda’s. "The flacon with the remaining scent is provided to you at no charge. If we agree to make this pact, I will provide you with the spell to summon the djinni. When he appears, he will help you reproduce the scent. The price for the scent and the knowledge of summoning the djinni will be five hundred of your dollars."

"YOU’RE OUGHTTA YOUR MIND, LADY!!" Brenda shrieked. "If you think I’m gonna pay you five hundred bucks for an old bottle and some mumbo jumbo that will probably only get me a visit from the cops for disturbing the peace, you’ve been sniffing the old incense for too long!"

Madame Miri held up her hands, nonplussed. "Those are my terms. How badly do you want the scent?"

Brenda’s eyes narrowed. Even if this woman was on the up-and-up, Brenda didn’t have five hundred dollars to her name. "I want it badly enough to make you a counter-offer. I’ll give you fifty dollars now for the bottle and the…..knowledge. If I do the hocus-pocus and some bald guy in satin pants does pop up in my living room, AND he can help me reproduce the scent, I’ll come back and pay you another fifty."

Miri arched her eyebrow again. "He *will* appear, but I will accept your offer of fifty dollars……and an unnamed favor that you will grant me."

Brenda’s mouth dropped open, but then she closed it and tapped her finger against her jaw. "The favor can’t be anything illegal."

"The favor will not break any of the laws of your Earth."

{"YOUR Earth." She’s good -- I’ll say that for her.} "All right, it’s a deal," Brenda sighed. She opened her purse and pulled out two twenty dollar bills and two fives. "Now. What’s the deal with the djinni?"

Madame Miri took the money and pinched it in half, stuffing it down the front of her blouse. Then, she slowly raised her hands above her head, rubbing them together. As she lowered them to right in front of Brenda’s eyes and opened them, two yellowed sheets of paper appeared. Brenda gasped out loud, then frowned. "How did you just do that?"

Madame Miri ignored her question. "This first sheet contains the spell, Brenda. You must follow the instructions on the sheet for setting the proper scene for the ritual, down to the appropriate costume you must don."

Brenda quickly scanned the paper. "Ummm....are you sure about this costume thing?" She leaned forward and smiled at Madame Miri. "It’s just that it says I have to wear green, and green is a *such* a terrible color for me."

Madame Miri raised her eyebrow again. "You must follow the instructions exactly to the letter and perform the ritual two days from now – during the time that you humans refer to as the Summer Solstice. It is a very powerful time in the spirit world."

"Yeah, right," Brenda grimaced, suspecting that she had just wasted fifty perfectly good dollars. "So I dress in green and set this stuff up in my living room – then what?"

"The first sheet gives you the words for the ritual. When you come to the part about calling the djinni by name, you must read the second sheet." She came closer to Brenda. "A djinni guards his name most zealously. Knowledge of a djinni’s true name gives the summoner the power to bind him to their will."

Brenda shuffled the papers. "So this is the guy’s name?" Her eyes widened as she took in the alphabet soup. "Uh…Houston…I think we have a problem," she quipped.

Madame Miri looked truly baffled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, see," Brenda explained, "I’ve got this little problem. I’m dyslexic." At Madame Miri’s continued puzzlement, Brenda went on. "I have problems reading some words – the letters kind of all dance around for me and sometimes I mix them up." She squinted at the second sheet. "Like this – does this say "I command you, Jasp…."

"SILENCE!" Madame Miri clapped, and Brenda jumped as the lights in the shop dimmed significantly. "You must not speak the full name of the djinni until you actually wish to summon him."

"Now waaaait a minute," Brenda said, putting her hands on her hips again. "What if I don’t say the words quite right and this guy doesn’t show? I don’t feel like paying you another fifty bucks if it doesn’t work because of my dyslexia."

Madame Miri placed her hand on Brenda’s forehead and Brenda felt a not-unpleasant tingling. "The words will come to you correctly, Brenda. Have no fear. The djinni will appear as I promised. Now go – you have much to prepare in the next two days."

Brenda was about to open her mouth to object again when she felt a gust of wind. Looking up from the torn papers, Madame Miri was gone. Brenda looked at the two birds. "How DOES she do that?" Shrugging her shoulders, she grabbed her bottle and turned back to the door. As she exited the shop, she let out a sigh. "Well, fifty dollars for an old dusty bottle and some kind of magical spell. I’ll bet old Madame Miri is out somewhere, raising a glass of Scotch to toast her good luck in finding such a sucker."

Brenda’s hunch was far from accurate. Miranda watched until Brenda had left the alleyway before she returned to the shop. Pulling the shades, she turned the sign on the door to "closed" and shut off the lights. She carefully lifted the crystal ball from its pedestal and carried it to the back of the shop, through the curtain of beads. The two cockatoos followed her movements, but when Miranda turned back to scowl at them, they hid their heads under their wings and pretended sleep.

Miranda carried the crystal ball into a small, darkened room and set it lovingly on a stand. She closed her eyes and began to move her hands over the ball in a circular motion. The inside of the ball began to cloud with white smoke as her hands continued their motion.

She chanted some obscure words, and the smoke inside the ball began to clear. As Miranda opened her eyes, she saw him in the ball. He was standing in a courtyard on Astarra, the home of the djinn. The home that he had banished her from so long ago.

As Miranda waved her hand again gently to clear the smoke further, she began to see him in greater detail. He was standing at the edge of a huge pile of brightly-colored pillows, a smile gracing his beautiful face. Miranda’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him.

His hair was the color of the sunrise, and a part fell softly down the center, causing gentle waves of the spun gold to tumble down onto his forehead. He wore a long, sleeveless, coat-like robe of sky blue shot through with sparkling threads. His hands were balled into fists and rested on his lean hips. He was bare-chested, and Miranda’s mouth became dry as she studied the fine sprinkling of golden hair that graced his broad chest. His muscular arms were set off by his pose, the copper bands of djinni status barely encircling his arms halfway between elbow and shoulder. He wore a light-blue amulet similar to Miranda’s, its color matching the color of his eyes.

As he looked at the woman reclining on the mound of pillows, his eyes changed from light blue to a dark shade of lapis, with emerald sparks of desire lighting them. As he raised one hand towards the woman on the pillows, his robe fell open, revealing that he wore nothing underneath. Miranda watched as the powerful magic he spun caressed the woman, and her head fell back towards the pillows. Miranda shivered at the memory of how he could use the magic and his touch to bring a woman to mindless oblivion.

Miranda’s eyes narrowed. Not the magic -- the tar’ot. It had been too long since Jax had banished her to live among the humans, away from her djinn brothers and sisters. But now that her plan was set in motion, Jax’s victory would be short-lived. The earth woman would be his downfall, the perfect tool for her revenge against him.

Him. Jasperi al Jakstaraya. He was commonly called "Jax" on the djinn home world of Astarra, since the full names of the djinn were rarely spoken. He was the most powerful of all of the djinn, often known and addressed simply as "the Guardian."

Miranda tried to see the woman on the pillows more carefully, but it really didn’t matter. It was a well-known fact that Jax had sworn never to take a wife -- a taja. This female djinni obviously thought that she could break his resolve with some powerful seduction -- but Miranda knew that no woman existed that could ply the sensual arts as well as Jax.

As Miranda tried to get a clearer picture of the voluptuous temptress on the pillows, her attention shifted back to Jax. Just as he floated downwards to recline on the pillows next to the woman and began to shed his robe, black clouds drifted into the picture. Miranda waved her hands frantically above the crystal, but it refused to clear.

She swore aloud in the language of the djinn. Even now, Jax’s powerful tar’ot thwarted her. He had set up a spell of privacy. She rose from the table and went back into the shop, stopping briefly to stroke the feathers of the white cockatoo. She smiled at the door that Brenda had exited not that long ago.

"Enjoy your tar’ot while you can, Jax," Miranda hissed. "With the help of this woman of Earth, you will soon be as miserable as you have made me. *I* will return to Astarra to take my place as the most powerful djinni. Just you wait......."

To be continued.....