The Moon of Artemis

How We Met

I sat on the aisle side of the elongated oak bench, in one of the back rows, legs crossed in my dainty little yellow dress. Put together in my Sunday outfit, I assumed this would be another typical church morning. My parents sat beside me in their seemingly extravagant clothing. They always had a taste for the exquisite, seeing as they came from French nobility. I, on the other hand did not particularly care for the ostentatious titles and clothing. In all honesty, I would have much preferred to not attend whatsoever. I could be spending this precious time tending to the art of writing, or better yet—my favorite hobby—composing music.

But in a desire to please my parents, I always reluctantly put myself into the Sunday outfit of their choosing, as I knew this was the least I could do to showcase that we were indeed a "proper" family in 1630 London. But we were indeed not a "proper" family in 1630. We only attended church, not because we were children of the lord—it was quite the opposite actually—but because we were children of the "devil", as you might presume.

My parents attended as to benefit their only agenda, because nothing happens in London without them finding out about it. So as to demonstrate their high-esteem, they always said to me, "Artemis, as our only daughter— you are the DeLaurent heir and you will execute your duties as you are expected to. You are the next leader of this powerful vampire clan and you shall be respected wherever you are present."

We almost always arrived graciously early, seldomly on time or heaven forbid late, so we sat politely as the rest of the Protestants gathered into the chapel. This was the third different church that we had attended in the last 20 years. People are quite observant and if they start to notice that neither I nor my parents are unconstrained to the ages of time, they might come to the conclusion that we were witches! Oh my, if only they knew...

Nevertheless, I quite enjoyed the change of scenery. I always had to create a persona for myself when I was in the presence of warmbloods, and that I quite honestly reveled in. Sometimes it is actually refreshing to live, even for a couple hours, as someone that you are not. Maybe that gives insight to my feelings towards my actual life, to which I loved, but of course we all would like a change now and then.

I took a deep breath and as I inhaled, I sensed something— as did my parents as well. By the way their heads turned slightly towards me, catching a glance of my eyes, I could tell we all sensed the same scent. Was that a subtle hint of jasmine flower that I smelled— who was the new warmblood that just entered? We all darted our gaze towards the entrance. It was something new. Yet wondrous I suppose. But I had an intuition that it was no warmblood indeed.

As my eyes wandered impatiently for an unrecognizable face, I caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were the warmest hue of honey-brown. Charming as ever, she looked so pure and whole like the sun is on a bright Sunday morning. Her hair was let down to mid-abdomen length, wavy and golden brunette as it glistened in the sun's warm glow. We met eyes and she let out a grin as she greeted mine with the uttermost sweetness. Perhaps the universe had granted me the change that I so desired. 

I was simply in awe of her stunning beauty. I don't think I had ever seen such a sight bestowed upon my gaze. Was this real? Or was this just another figment of my imagination later to be let down by reality? Her eyes changed directions and I snapped back to my senses. My parents looked at me and whispered "witch" as they glared her down. How could I not sense it earlier—the light aroma of sage with faint undertones of incense and mint. I suppose time froze as I was pulled into amazement by her presence. She just caught me off guard...

The vampires and witches always had a precarious relationship; but as of now, we were on understandable terms with the witches, or so my parents would like to think. She walked past me in the aisle and sat in the very front row on the left side—opposite to which I was on the right side of the church. She was with a friend, another young witch that I had seen a couple times here before. Her friend whispered something in her ear and I saw the new young witch tilt her head in my direction. Her eyes were sly, looking subtly at my family and I. I was certain the other witch had informed her that my parents were the leaders of the DeLaurent vampire clan, and I, their chosen heir.