The Fifth Moon's Wolf (The Fifth Moon's Tales)

by Monica La Porta

  “Go.” She pointed at the table, then said, “Hurry.”

  Horrified, her mother stared at her. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Climb the wall. I’ll follow you.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “We can’t stay here.” Mirella inwardly groaned. “I’ll go first and I’ll hoist you up.”

  The makeshift structure was unstable, but once she climbed on the table, Mirella was high enough to reach the edge. She anchored her hands over the parapet, planting the point of her naked feet inside the larger holes. Her upper strength left much to be desired, but she grit her teeth and heaved herself up. There was enough space between the wall and the ceiling for her to squeeze through. With a final pull, she found herself mounting the edge of the wall astride, one leg dangling over what looked like a long fall into the gardens below.

  Mirella had hoped there was a ledge she could stand on once she climbed down the wall on the outer side, but the granite surface didn’t even have an ornamental trim at its base.

  “Help!” her mother cried, startling Mirella.

  An armed man wearing all black from head to toe burst through the passageway’s door. On his face there was the outline of a skull marked in white lines. In his hand a shiny electric dagger dripped blood over the marble flooring. The stench of burned flesh permeated the air alongside the emerald luminescence coloring everything in its sickly shade of death. Mirella barely had time to take in his sight when a second and a third man followed. They too wore the same macabre uniform, down to the bloodied electric blades emanating the bright green halo.

  Her mother emitted one last cry, then fainted, hitting the hard tiles with a whoosh of her gown.

  “Grab her,” the first man ordered, pointing at Mirella.

  From her perch, Mirella tried to raise her leg and escape the reaching hands, but she wasn’t fast enough. She was yanked down and fell into the rough embrace of one of the attackers.

  “What do you want with me?” she asked the skull mask.

  The man laughed, the facial movements deforming the white lines on the black fabric in a grotesque parody of the skeleton design.

  The first attacker, the one giving all the orders, cleared the table from the chaise lounge with a shove. “Put her down.”

  The man holding Mirella jerked her around, bruising her arms. Then he threw her to the chaise, face down. She immediately flipped around, kicking and flailing her arms to keep the men at bay.

  The leader advanced toward Mirella, dagger raised high over his shoulder. “Hold her still,” he ordered, and the other two men grabbed her arms.

  Impotent, held down by the iron grip of the two men, and her thighs kept wide by the leader’s legs, Mirella faced her demise with her chin high and she spat at the leader.

  “You, bitch—” The leader’s voice was laden with hatred as he lowered the dagger with a swift movement.

  Expelling all the air left in her lungs, Mirella screamed, “Lobo!”

  Chapter Nine

  Late in the afternoon, Valentine finally admitted to himself that he wanted to visit his wife.

  He had waged war on his senses for the last eight days, denying his wolf’s demands and his desire to hold her in his arms. He wasn’t sure why he reacted to Mirella in a way that defied logic—although his wolf’s interest in her was surely part of it—but he couldn’t stand a minute longer without seeing her.

  When Aldo answered his call, he informed his majordomo that he wouldn’t see the Solarian delegation for the meeting scheduled after supper. His planetary neighbors had arrived soon after Gabriel, and for the last week, as planned, Valentine had entertained his barbarian guests. The Solarian shifters were on Lupine for the nuptials, but also to consolidate their commerce throughout the Coral System. Valentine was interested in establishing a new mercantile route through Solaria’s Dry Sea, but he wasn’t any closer to sealing the deal than when he started the negotiations.

  “What must I say to Dragon Sol’s secretary?” Aldo asked.

  “Say nothing,” was Valentine’s first response, then he thought better of it. “I had an unplanned engagement requiring my attention. Send them my courtesans. We’ll meet tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Inform the mechanical stable I’m taking Desert Fire out.”

  As soon as Aldo left, Valentine stripped naked and had a quick shower to get rid of the musky scent of animal mixed with dust and sweat. The whole afternoon he had ridden Dallian, his new purebred draglet. Dragon Sol had gifted the winged, serpentine stallion to Valentine as a wedding token, and Valentine had been eager to take the draglet out for a flight. Official commitments had prevented the excursion to the Great Plains, but finally, Valentine had been able to clear time for them.

  He had enjoyed the ride very much, and the dragon shifter leader had shown off his mastery of the temperamental stallion’s flying antics. Because of their inner beasts, Solarians were known to have an affinity with the wild race of draglets, and Valentine was pleased to meet a different aspect of Dragon.

  Showered and changed, Valentine strode toward the mechanical stable where his black airbike was being prepped for him. With a roar of its clockwork engine, the wrought-iron beauty that was Desert Fire came to life as if greeting him back after a lengthy separation.

  Exiting his property, he kept the airbike’s three oversized wheels on the uneven terrain for the first part of the ride. The Desert Fire’s glass pipes emitted puffs of vapor, leaving a trail behind visible for kilometers.

  Lobo Mansion was on the outskirts of Adris and separated by the city proper by several hectares of wild land. When Marcellus had first scouted Lupine for a place where he could establish his court, the Great Plains had called to him. On a whim, Valentine’s father had bought a substantial area of the planet and had erected his mansion close to the human dwelling, but distant enough that it took an hour to cover the distance from the house to the gate. Once outside the property line, Adris was another hour away.

  Usually, the trip to the city center was enough time for Valentine to work out whatever problem was afflicting him. He typically drove at ground level from the stable to the gate because he enjoyed the constant jarring of the rocks hitting the wheels. Maneuvering the rutted landscape required him to concentrate on the road to avoid the occasional chasm recently formed or the sudden sand floods. Wild draglets, hungry beeds, and fierce lamouris dwelled in the shadows of the ever-changing cactus forests and added to the charm of the ride in Valentine’s eyes.

  At the gate, he nodded at his men standing guard atop the turrets and took flight. Several meters above the black strip of tarmac, he pushed the button to fold the wheels under the chassis. Once the lateral wings doubled in length reaching their full span, he opened the throttle wide open and sped away in an exhilarating spiral. By the time he reached the Vestal House he would be covered in dust again, but it was worth it.

  Adris’ glass spirals were soon in sight, mirroring the last sun rays in a kaleidoscopic show of reds and oranges. As a cub, Valentine had received a special gift from his usually absent father, a cylinder that had a lens on one end and it was filled with pieces of colored glasses. Valentine had spent hours looking inside the tube, watching the glasses assemble into different shapes and patterns as he rotated the toy in his hands. Coral’s fiery sunset kissing Lupine’s capital reminded Valentine of those rare moments when he had been happy as a child. He could number them all on his two hands.

  The outskirts of the city where the majority of the population lived weren’t as affluent as the city center, but they were still clean and well-maintained thanks to Valentine. He paid for the roads to be kept free of debris and in acceptable conditions, and he also provided free rent for the citizens who couldn’t afford housing. Public schools and universal care had been one of the few good things Marcello had left as a legacy, and Valentine had upheld his father’s good deeds by adding new buildings and hiring more medici and anc
illae.

  The first hanging gardens and greenhouses marked the transition from the outskirts to the residential part of Adris where nobles and rich merchants lived. The houses became taller, tiered in jutting terraces and resplendent in pale colors reflecting the numerous shades of Coral. Imported trees and bushes dotted the balconies, kept verdant with copious amounts of distilled water.

  As Valentine approached Adris’ center, the clergy and the court’s territory, the opulence of the buildings rivaled Lobo Mansion’s. The high spires pierced the purple clouds, casting long shadows, and forcing Valentine to lower his ride below the balconies’ line.

  In Central Public Market, the vendor stalls had closed for the day, but the streets below were still busy with motorized carts and peddlers packing their merchandise into hovering crates. A few mechanical workers hefted the heaviest loads, but they were few and their slow and halted movements showed their clockwork engines were deteriorating. With great longing, Valentine remembered a time when mechanicals were widely used.

  Approaching the circular structure of the Vestal House, he noticed people scurrying out of the building. The High Priest’s residence was usually alive with supplicants coming in and out at all times, but even from several meters above the grand entrance it was clear that the fuss was nothing common.

  From afar, his sensitive ears caught a feminine scream. The voice, although faint, resembled Mirella’s, and Valentine’s wolf sense prickled at the back of his neck, alerting his body. Instead of descending toward the internal court where he usually parked his Desert Fire, he veered a sharp right and reached the wing where the Wedding Chamber was situated. Descending faster than would normally be safe, he spiraled down to the balcony attached to the chamber.

  A high wall hid the enclosure of the balcony from prying eyes, but what Valentine heard next froze the blood in his veins. Mirella, because there was no doubt any longer that it was her voice, called his name. The cry echoed in the silent nocturnal air, firing Valentine into action. The fastest plan would have been to hit the granite wall, but he didn’t want to risk hitting Mirella with the resulting debris from the crash. He pulled over by the terrace, stalled the airbike, stood up still straddling the seat, then jumped toward the wall and grabbed the edge. Pushing his body between the ceiling and the edge of the partition, he cleared the wall and jumped inside the balcony.

  The scene he witnessed was surreal. An unconscious woman was on the floor. Mirella’s mother. Two men dressed in black with skulls painted over their clad faces were holding down Mirella, while a third, wearing the same attire, was lowering an electric dagger to her abdomen.

  An animal roar erupted from Valentine’s throat as he gave his wolf free rein. The veins on his neck corded while the hair on his skin stood on end. His eyes shone a bright red as primal anger fueled his movements and propelled his body into action, slamming his whole weight against the man attacking Mirella.

  The dagger flew against the wall first, then the man followed the same trajectory and hit his head against the hard surface, sliding down. A mere human, he could’ve never won in a fight against Valentine. Yet even from the floor, he blindly kicked, screaming obscenities.

  Usually, Valentine would’ve taken into consideration the opponent’s weaker constitution, but the man had meant to mortally wound his bride. Acting on impulse, Valentine lowered his boot to the man’s leg and stomped the limb, shattering bones. The two attackers who had been holding Mirella until a moment ago immediately freed her, scuttering like the filthy wildrats they were to the opposite corner and leaving their mate to his own destiny.

  “Who are you?” Valentine was still under the effects of the wolf’s ire and his booming voice came out as chilling as a death promise.

  The man bleeding on the floor had fainted, but the other two were too scared to answer.

  Valentine advanced toward them. “Who are you?” he repeated the question with a low growl, his hands fisted.

  Silence answered his question, and blind anger took over him. His fist connected with the first man’s jaw, spraying teeth and blood over the man’s mate, whose knees buckled and he dropped to the floor.

  Before Valentine could ask again, the second man raised his hands over his head and said, “We were paid to kill the Blessed Bride.”

  “Who hired you?” Valentine wiped his hand on his black pants, smearing the heavy cotton with blood.

  “I don’t know—”

  Of its own accord, Valentine’s fist hit the man.

  Amidst cries and gurgles, the man spat out blood. “I don’t know! We were contacted by a middleman—”

  “The name of the middleman.” Valentine raised his fist once again.

  Trembling, the man cowered against the corner as a pool of urine puddled under him. “I don’t know his name. I swear.”

  Valentine punched the man square in the jaw, rendering him unconscious. The strong urge to keep punishing the men for having threatened Mirella had Valentine in a strong grip that made him act before thinking. He now had three useless witnesses and his anger hadn’t abated.

  “Lobo?” a soft voice called him.

  He turned to face his bride, who looked at him with wide eyes.

  “Are you okay?” she asked worriedly, surprising him.

  He had expected to see loathing on her face, but not worry for him. “Did they harm you?” he asked her then.

  She shook her head, standing on shaking legs and walking to him. Her small hand reached out for his face. “You came for me,” she whispered, then she wound her arms around his waist and stepped closer to rest her head over his chest.

  Speechless, he found himself hugging her, rocking her small body as he lowered his lips to her crown and kissed her repeatedly.

  “Thank you.”

  Her voice was as enchanting as he remembered, but he was startled by her words.

  “For what?” He pressed one hand over the small of her back, cradling her head with the other.

  “For coming back and saving me.” She burrowed closer still.

  “You are my Blessed Bride,” he said, only then realizing the full extent of his statement.

  Chapter Ten

  Lost in the warmth of his embrace, Mirella didn’t hear the running steps echoing from the passageway, but Lobo did and his body stiffened against hers.

  Before she could say or do anything, he pushed her behind him, his massive body hiding her from whoever was arriving. She felt his growl filling his lungs, expanding his chest when he greeted the first man who exited into the balcony.

  “Master Lobo—” a startled voice whimpered.

  Mirella dared a peek from around Lobo and saw one of the temple’s guards looking back at her and sighing in relief. Other men piled behind him and he moved out of the way to let them through. One of the guards wearing the captain’s insignia stepped forward.

  The captain opened his mouth and managed to say, “Mast—” before the werewolf interrupted him with the loudest growl yet.

  “Where were you when the Blessed Bride was being attacked?” After the vicious snarl, Lobo spoke with a coolness that was even scarier than his roars. “She would’ve been dead by the time you arrived.” He reached behind his back for her and gently pulled her forward. “You failed to keep my wife safe.”

  The captain’s face paled at Lobo’s accusation.

  “From now on, she will be in my custody.” Lobo’s hand grabbed Mirella’s. “You’ll escort her to the main entrance where I’ll meet you.” Ignoring the stuttered protests from the captain, he turned to Mirella and took her chin in his hand while he held her close. “It will take me but a minute to meet you at the front.” He then lowered his lips to hers for a chaste kiss.

  “But, Master Lobo, I’ll have to consult the High Priest—” the man stepped forward as if of a mind to stop the werewolf.

  “You do that and take care of this woman as you are at it.” Lobo pointed his chin toward Mirella’s mother, then caressed Mirella’s face. “You’ll
be out of this place in no time.”

  “Master!” the captain valiantly called, but Lobo had already climbed the wall and was vaulting over the edge.

  “Help my mother,” Mirella commanded the closest guard.

  The man exchanged a look with his captain who nodded his assent.

  “You and you, carry the Blessed Bride’s mother downstairs to the infirmary,” the captain said, pointing at two of his men, then he turned toward a third. “You, inform the High Priest I need his presence downstairs at once.”

  Once Mirella’s mother—who was finally regaining consciousness—was safely cradled between the two guards, the captain turned his attention toward Mirella. “Please, follow me.”

  On her way out, Mirella picked up her shoes from where she had discarded them in her attempt to escape.

  “I’d like to apologize, Blessed Bride,” he said when they were back inside the Wedding Chamber. “We ran to your quarters as soon as we were informed of the breach in our security. Believe me when I say—”

  “I’m sure you did your best.” Mirella didn’t know if the man had or had not done all he could, but she was alive, her mother was safe, and her husband had come for her. Nothing else mattered to her.

  Outside the chamber, she exchanged a few words with her mother before they were separated.

  “What happened to me?” her mother asked, looking first at the men holding her, then at her daughter.

  “You fainted,” Mirella said, omitting any detail that would scare her mother, then kissed her forehead. “A medicus will see to you. Don’t worry. You’ll be up and about in a few minutes.” She nodded at the guards who took the hallways to the right while the captain escorted her to the left wing.

  The captain tried to apologize to her one more time, but Mirella stopped him, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

  As her husband had promised, he was waiting for her before the Vestal House’s double staircase. Atop his hovering airbike, which looked like a sculpted, iron draglet, Valentine was magnificent. The soldiers guarding the stairs looked at him in adoration. The same adoration she knew was mirrored in her eyes as he extended a hand to her.