Fortunately for Artemisia, the next week was not nearly as chaotic as the first. The Iron District collapsed under the weight of its own machinery, and with no opponent to one-up, the Floral District stopped planting nearly so many plants. One benefit of this was that flowers were alarmingly cheap, which allowed Artemisia to buy a bundle of them that would otherwise be appallingly expensive. With flowers in one hand and the pendant heavy as an anchor in her pocket, she made her way over to Lunaria.

Lunaria was one of the oldest districts; it was so old, in fact, that the only thing anyone knew about its origins is that it was not the oldest district. Most of its population was the magical sort; you know, witches, ghouls, werewolves, the like. Most of them knew better than to mess with Artemisia, though.

Artemisia navigated expertly through its serpentine streets, dodging vendors and hawkers and the occasional stray pickpocket. She’d been making this trip for long enough to know what to expect, and that odd familiarity that came with expecting was likely the reason it was such a comforting journey to her after her hectic week. Soon she was standing before an elegant gothic manor, its spires reaching for the sky like fingers.

Artemisia climbed the wrought-iron gates, rubbed the unusually affectionate hellhounds guarding it behind the ears, and ascended the steps to the grand black doors. She knocked three times, the thumping sound echoing ominously across the twisted black yard. The door creaked open, and a young woman in a black veil tackled Artemisia.

“You came!” she cheered.

Artemisia chuckled, pulling back her veil and kissing her on the cheek.

This was Neith, Artemisia’s partner. She was slightly shorter than her, with tied-back dark blond hair and amber skin. Her eyes were stained a nearly-black red, a trait common amongst vampires. Despite the general perception of vampires, though, most were not exactly evil seducers and in fact found this perception offensive. Neith, who had spent a fair amount of her life around humans, was far more forgiving of this mistake than most other vampires, although she could get rather peeved when people continued to believe it even after a stern warning or two.

“It’s been a while, Wolfie,” Artemisia noted. “I’m sorry for leaving you for a while, but it’s been a busy week for me.”

“You don’t need to apologize for having responsibilities,” Neith said with a cheeky grin. “You have more than me, that’s for sure.” She stepped back and gestured to the door. “Come in. I’m sure you don’t want to stand out in the Sun all day.”

Artemisia did so, her footsteps echoing on the floor’s soft carpets. The interior of Neith’s mansion was as eerie as the outside, but the gloom was being valiantly held back by the colorful paintings, tapestries, rugs, and even lampshades.

Neith closed the door behind Artemisia, giving it a hefty shove when it caught on the edge of her rug. She smoothed out her skirts and removed her veil, grinning at her with sharp teeth.

“Sorry about that,” Neith said. “I caught a bout of sun-fever a few months ago and I’d rather not get it again, thank you very much.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Artemisia said, too distracted by one of Neith’s new paintings - a bright, cheery watercolor of a plumeria tree.

They entered Neith’s western sitting room. Artemisia settled down on her couch while Neith set about making… some strange concoction. Artemisia had long since grown used to her weird tastes in drinks. For the first time in a while, Artemisia let her guard down, knowing that she was safe here and that nothing would happen while she was gone.

There was a thunderous crash from the basement, followed by a distant howl. It nearly made Artemisia jump out of her skin.

“What was that?”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Neith sighed, setting aside her task at hand with the ease of someone who’d had to do this many times before. “Excuse me for a moment, will you, lovely?”

She glided out of the room. Artemisia heard the sounds of shouting and things toppling over before Neith returned, slightly bedraggled but otherwise unharmed.

“The tenants are fighting again.”

“Ah.”

Neith’s house was much too big for her, even when Artemisia was around, so she often lent rooms of it out to friends, family, and anyone else who needed a roof over their heads for a little while. Her current tenants were her grouchy old great-grandnephew, a creepy pair of sorcerous twins, a detective specializing in Lunarian cases, and a family of werewolves. It was the first and last two on that list who’d gotten into a squabble, apparently over a pair of slippers that one of the younger children chewed through.

Neith settled down next to Artemisia, handing her a concoction that looked vaguely like a mix between human blood and beer. It was more likely the latter than the former, surprisingly, but that still didn’t make Artemisia less wary. She took a sip of it, a taste vaguely reminiscent of gunpowder and Elowynn Elowynn’s Non-Alcoholic Waste-Liquor blooming across her tongue. Not bad.

Neith sipped her own drink and smiled. “So how have things been in your iron tower?”

“Much worse than for you, most likely. Bonnie stole a cannon again, the Iron and Floral Districts got into a spat, a Windweaver launched himself over the wall and got captured by the Bandits - oh, and we’re in a territorial dispute with the Ragamuffins, but I’m sure that’ll be over soon. The only thing shorter than the Ragamuffins themselves is their attention span. You?”

Neith looked mildly impressed by the disaster that was Artemisia’s week. “Well, nothing that can top that, that’s for sure.” She sighed, her fingers flexing slightly around her glass. “Actually, you know Rosario?”

“The detective boarding with you?”

“Yeah. They brought back a corpse - a corpse! - a few days ago for one of their cases! I don’t get why they couldn’t just leave it at the station, but they insisted that they bring it home. It stunk the place up for a week!”

This would’ve been a disturbing tale had its audience not consisted of a child soldier and a vampire. As it was, it was merely an amusing tidbit, and Artemisia laughed lightly at it.

“Count yourself lucky that you don’t have to deal with the madness I do,” she said, taking another sip. This one tasted noticeably different, shifting from flat and bubbly to smooth and rather strong, and the sudden change made her choke in surprise.

Concern furrowed Neith’s brow. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yes, it just…”

The concern faded to delight. “Oh! I forgot to tell you. I’ve been experimenting with shapeshifting drinks. It changes its composition based on your tastes. Unfortunately, it tends to be a rather…abrupt change. I still need to find a way to fix that.”

Artemisia set the drink aside, not entirely sure if she wanted to have any more, and returned her attention to Neith. She placed a hand over Neith’s free one, which rested gently in her lap.

“I really am sorry that I couldn’t come sooner-”

“-and I told you, what’s time to an immortal?”

Artemisia chuckled. “This is why I love you.”

“Yes, yes, sure,” Neith said, hiding her smile. “I love you, too.”

Artemisia leaned forward and kissed Neith, who returned it eagerly.

“Try not to take as long next time though,” Neith said.

“No promises.”

Artemisia sat back, and something sharp prodded into her rear. She didn’t flinch at it, but instead was struck with a brief spark of curiosity before remembering that it was the amulet.

She pulled the amulet out. “That reminds me…Neith, what do you know of this?”

Artemisia offered her the amulet. The vampire took it, slender brown fingers curling around the shiny trinket.

“Hm,” Neith scrutinized the amulet, her forehead scrunching in concentration. “It’s pretty. Looks Sechean in origin, probably from the Age of Summers, so about a thousand years old. The rubies are sea stones, going by the size and luster, and the emerald…” her eyes widened almost indiscernibly, but Artemisia had known her long enough to notice. “Well, isn’t that interesting?”

“What?”

“This is a roc’s eye. It’s a stone found only where such creatures nest, highly valued for its size,” Neith chuckled. “This one’s small for a roc’s eye.”

“Anything else?”

Neith shook her head, handing the amulet back to Artemisia. “I do have a question, though.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not one for wealth. What changed?”

Artemisia was silent for a moment. Then, “honestly? Nothing. Bonnie gave this to me as part of a one-sided bargain for that cannon, but it feels familiar and I don’t know why.”

“Well, there’s no enchantments on it that I could sense, so perhaps it’s from the same place as you?”

“Maybe,” Artemisia admitted reluctantly. She didn’t think about her past much these days; not that she could remember most of it regardless.

They continued their conversation throughout the day and long into the night, the amulet quickly forgotten. When Artemisia finally departed, she took it with her on a gold chain around her neck, courtesy of Neith.