Leonore helped Artemisia enter the mansion. Her head was spinning like the wheel of a car, she could still smell the pungent and metallic smell, the taste was still inside the young woman's mouth. There was a memory of something happening, but at the same time the only thing the young woman remembered was Sebastian asking her to get out of the car. After that there was nothing else. She sat on the couch, the same one where she agonized over the effects of belladonna, crying at the toxin from that damn drink and writhing her body like it was on fire. Artemisia remembered it so clearly, it was as if it had happened the day before, at most a few days before. She was already starting to lose track of time; things were starting to get weirder. Again. The young woman was trying to understand why she had gone to Leonore's house. It could be because of the deaths that had been going on since the day before, but that story Artemisia only heard it when it was getting ready, that very morn
"You remember when I told that story about what magic was like in Gaul, right?" "It was a bit of an incomplete story, but I can remember." Leonore got up and headed towards a shelf. Artemisia re-observed some parts of that place. It was small, dimly lit, full of shelves and bizarre things that witches probably used in rituals or even studies, but there was something in that room that caused a certain déjà vu. Maybe it was the color, the walls seemed to be a very ordinary orange hue in the fall, there were several things in that place that might remind the young woman of something, but it had something too specific to ignore. She saw the aged details of the shelves, some jars with flowers and herbs, Artemisia also searched within her own mind for what could be rescued from her memory with those elements. But, as expected, nothing came. It did not surprise the young woman, that feeling of having lived it before or of having been in that place came from nowhere and was adrift of
To the young woman's surprise, that point of darkness at the botanical fair was not a stall, in fact it was the façade of a flower shop. It didn't look like a flower shop, the dark colors and faded designs gave the impression that this shop was abandoned or that it was an old tallow, which was shattering over time. Artemisia stood for a good few minutes admiring that black blur in the midst of so much light and color. The storefront somehow reminded the young woman of herself, perhaps for the colors and the more old-fashioned style. "Maybe because you don't belong there." Again, those voices spoke deep in the young woman's mind, teasing her to make something happen. Something she had no idea what it might be, but given the illusions, or events, that had intensified morbidly over the past two days. Either way, she decided to ignore that voice, just as she had been doing since the second time she heard it — or at least trying to ignore it. "Don't be offended by witches," a femal
Artemisia leaned her body against the chair entirely, the truth hurting more than she could have imagined. She could tell that the stages of grief hit her too fast, so the young woman was already in anger. An outsized hatred of herself. Artemisia knew it was deadly, she saw her father die, the nannies die, the plants, the animals. It was clear as the day that it was her curse, but knowing it was so painful that it made the young woman want to vomit up all the sweets she had eaten. Suddenly something hit her too, a memory that involved stories. It was almost like a blur, but if Artemisia tried hard, she could understand that it had been a dream, a strange and a little disjointed dream. In it were three books, each of which bore a strange memory of the young woman. The first was a debt, of this she remembered better than the others, the second was pure pain, the same pain she had felt when Leonore opened that book of leather red as blood. The young woman raised her face looking t
After walking through the flower shop, Artemisia noticed her body was placed in a stall full of jewelry. The fair didn't seem to have changed much; it was still strange since it seemed that the time, she spent in the flower shop was more than enough for the botanical fair to lose some of its movement. The young woman was holding a pair of lily earrings, so delicate that even wearing the gloves Artemisia felt that she could break the jewels with her own hand. "Beautiful and delicate like you." The woman said as she gave Artemisia a polite smile. "Yes, they're beautiful, is it glass?" The young woman asked without being able to take her eyes off the small pieces that were in her palm. The lilies were white in a milky way, reminiscent of the Artemisia of the gifts that usually pregnant women receive when they discover pregnancy. It was too delicate to match Artemisia, but somehow, she couldn't look away from those jewels. "It's made of white crystal, Miss." The woman's voice seeme
As the minutes passed, slow as a damn turtle, the young woman regretted more and more that she hadn't asked the demon to take her along with him to find a place for her to spend a while. Artemisia had already told some isolated details of the small square, how many weeds were being born among the bricks on the ground, the amount of thrush that swam in the fountain behind her. When she went to pay attention to the time, she was hopeful that at least twenty minutes had passed, but the reality was really a slap in the face. Artemisia was prepared to go back to looking for something insignificant and in large numbers to tell, when she realized that there was an old diary and a yellowed letter in her bag. She remembered that she was reading one of the pages Delfine had written in the diary when the car mysteriously stopped in the middle of the road. She began to fiddle with her purse in search of that diary, it wasn't hard to feel her fingertips go through the leather cover, the young w
The two spent quite a bit of time sitting quietly just enjoying each other's company. At one time or another they would comment on something, sometimes about the house or something about the time the demon had bought that piece of land, he didn't particularly seem extremely comfortable talking about it, so Artemisia didn't dwell on it. She tried to ignore her growling stomach, after hearing all that story from the shopkeeper, which was actually the book Leonore had picked up that morning, the young woman wondered if she really needed to eat human flesh. She had already understood that she was far from one, but she was still uncomfortable eating the flesh of a creature she believed herself to be. As much as the demon had explained to her the difference between eating human food and eating human flesh, Artemisia was beginning to really doubt everything here. She was certainly not human, that was obvious to everyone as well as the sunrise, finding out about all that past life really m
The lights had been out for at least an hour, the windows were so tightly closed that the moonlight was forbidden to enter. Artemisia had never experienced a silence like that, it was as if life around that house knew that those who were occupying that space were two beings who were far from being human. The silence seemed to be a response to fear, it was comfortable, the young woman never thought that one day she would be in a place like Geon's house. The idea of having peace, truly having peace, in that mansion was as illusionary and childish as the books that Artemisia read when she was still a child, so the young woman abandoned that ideal life little by little. What good was it to dream of living in a place where the sun was the first to arrive, where flowers lived all year round, and peace was the monarch? It was so useless to poison yourself with those stories. Since her father's death, Artemisia had decided to face the reality of being herself. It was funny how such a young