The Last Hour Between Worlds

As always, the first thing that hit me was the smell of thousands of herbs and flowers, a dry, green, enticing smell that got into my lungs and soothed the world away, mortal peril forgotten. A warm light bathed the place, shining from several living octopus-like creatures tangled in the ceiling beams. Rows and rows of hundreds of little tins and jars lined the walls, all of them labeled in Laemura's spidery handwriting: Apple Mint Innocence. Lavender Regret. Smoky Cinnamon Vengeance. Doomed Foreknowledge With Toasted Walnut And Sage.

from The Last Hour Between Worlds, by Melissa Caruso