Chapter 25 – Tithe of Love

Alice turned away from the Visage Mask’s pedestal, mentally tallying the damage to her account. The number was hemorrhaging, but she was still comfortably in the black. She moved to the next case in the row, a squat display housing a set of enchanted lockpicks that hummed with a faint, lilac glow.

She was about to ask the price when a flash of red caught her eye.

It wasn’t in a case. It was sitting on a small, black velvet cushion on the shelf adjacent to the Visage Mask, positioned as if it were an afterthought. A trinket left out for impulse buyers. But the moment Alice’s gaze landed on it, she knew better.

It was a bracelet. Serpentine in design, coiled twice upon itself like a sleeping viper, the body carved from obsidian so dark it seemed to drink the light from the display lamps. The surface was polished to a mirror sheen, smooth and organic, tapering to a flat, triangular head that rested against the cushion with an unsettling naturalism. Two eyes were set into the skull: small, faceted rubies that caught the gaslight and threw back pinpricks of deep, arterial red.

It looked alive. Not in the way a well-crafted piece of jewelry sometimes tricked the eye. This was something else entirely. It looked alive the way a predator looked alive when it was perfectly still, watching you from the tall grass.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” the attendant said, materializing at Alice’s elbow with the silent precision that was apparently a house-wide talent.

Alice tilted her head, studying the coils. Each scale of the serpent’s body had been individually carved into the obsidian, catching the light at slightly different angles so the whole piece seemed to ripple when she shifted her perspective. The kind of jewelry that would make a duchess weep with envy and a jeweler weep with inadequacy.

“It’s gorgeous,” Alice admitted, which was not a word she used lightly. She leaned closer, admiring the way the ruby eyes seemed to track her movement. A trick of the faceting, surely. “I might buy it for the looks alone. May I?”

She reached for the obsidian coils.

“Stop.”

The attendant’s hand shot out and caught Alice’s wrist. The grip was brief but insistent, pulling her hand back a measured six inches before releasing it. The movement was so at odds with the woman’s funereal composure that Alice almost flinched.

“I would advise against touching it without prior knowledge,” the attendant said, her voice returning to its silk-smooth register as if she hadn’t just physically intercepted a customer. “It can be a bit… surprising for a first-time user.”

Alice withdrew her hand, flexing her fingers. The ruby eyes glinted innocently on their cushion.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing is wrong with it, per se. It is simply enthusiastic about new acquaintances.” She smoothed the front of her skirt. “This is the Vitric Lover.”

Alice stared at the attendant. She looked at the bracelet. Back at the attendant.

“The Vitric Lover,” Alice repeated, her voice flat. “Who names these things?”

“Usually the original owners. However, some artifacts arrive nameless, without provenance or history. Orphans, in a sense.” She gestured to the serpent with a gloved hand. “This particular piece was sold to us by a woman who took her payment in tears. She offered no history, no explanation, and no name. She simply handed it over and left. Our house appraiser catalogued and christened it.”

“He sounds like quite the romantic.”

The attendant smiled. A genuine one, small and fond, that softened the professional mask for a fleeting moment. “He is. He even named the active function. He calls it the Tithe of Love.”

Alice raised an eyebrow behind her lacquer mask. “That’s either poetic or ominous. With artifacts, I’m assuming the latter. Explain.”

The attendant inclined her head and slipped back into the cadence of a practiced saleswoman delivering a product warning.

“Because its love requires sacrifice,” she began. “The Vitric Lover is not a passive ornament, Miss Dragonslayer. The moment bare skin contacts the obsidian, the artifact activates its bonding sequence. It will uncurl, travel up the wrist, and constrict.”

She mimed the motion with her own hand, fingers tightening slowly around her opposite forearm.

“The serpent’s head latches onto the inner wrist, specifically over the radial artery, and bites. The fangs are small, barely a centimeter, but they puncture the skin cleanly. You cannot wear it without surrendering blood. We have tried. Gloves, wrappings, leather cuffs. It rejects all barriers. It demands direct contact with the vein.”

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Alice’s hand drifted instinctively to her own wrist. “Charming. And once it’s latched on? Am I married to a snake for the rest of my natural life?”

“Fortunately, no. Removal is simple. You lift the head while it is latched, and it releases. The fangs retract, the coils loosen, and it returns to its dormant state. A possessive lover, certainly, but not an imprisoning one.” She paused. “It also has a coagulating effect on the puncture site. The wounds seal within seconds of removal. You will not need to worry about blood or staining your sleeves.”

“Small mercies,” Alice muttered, eyeing the ruby eyes with renewed wariness. “So it bites you, drinks your blood, and then what? What does it actually do?“

“To activate the Tithe, you must will your mana into the bracelet through the contact point where the fangs meet the artery. A small, sustained pulse, similar to the way you would channel heat into your palm, but directed inward toward the artifact rather than outward. The serpent acts as a conduit. It draws the mana through the blood and cycles it back into the musculature.”

She gestured to the ruby eyes.

“You will know it is active when the eyes emit a faint glow. A brief, red pulse. And then the enhancement begins.”