"Want some?"

For some reason Natasha had a clear vision of herself waking up the next morning, somewhere at the far end of the city, robbed, raped, and not remembering a single thing about what had happened. She shook her head.

"Well, I'll have a drop." Darya raised the "reanimator" to her lips and drained the vodka in a single gulp. "That's a bit easier… for working. And you, you've no need to be afraid of me. I don't make my living by robbing people."

The last few remaining drops also went into the little brown bottle of love potion. And then, quite unperturbed by Natasha's curious gaze, the seer added some salt, sugar, hot water from the kettle, and a bit of powder with a strong smell of vanilla.

"What is that?" asked Natasha.

"Have you got a cold? It's vanilla."

The medicine woman held the little bottle out to her.

"Take it."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, that's it. You get your husband to drink it. Can you manage that? You can put it in tea, or even in vodka-but that's not the best way."

"But where's the… spell?"

"What spell?"

Natasha felt like a fool again. Her voice almost broke into a shout as she said, "This is a drop of my blood, a drop of vodka, sugar, salt, and vanilla!"

"And water," Darya added. She put her hands on her hips and looked at Natasha ironically. "What did you expect? Dried eye of toad? Oriole's testicles? Or for me to blow my nose in it? What do you want-ingredients or effect?"

Natasha didn't answer. She was overwhelmed by this attack. And Darya continued, no longer trying to conceal her mockery: "My darling girl, if I'd wanted to impress you, then I would have done so. Have no doubt about it. What matters is not what's in the bottle, but who made it. Don't you worry, go home and give it to your husband. Will he be calling round again?"