The Fifth Moon's Wife (The Fifth Moon Tales Book 2)

by Monica La Porta

  “Can they talk to each other?”

  “According to Dragon, draglets are empathic creatures, but my wolf has never interacted with Dallian or any other draglet before. And it has happened twice already today.”

  “And what are they talking about?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Mirella thought that Valentine sounded evasive, but she didn’t press the subject. Not wanting to ruin the mood, she pushed her sadness away and concentrated on the present. She inhaled, filling her lungs with the fresh scents coming from the red lavender fields. A horde of lamouris was galloping across the bushes, trampling the flowers and releasing the crisp aroma. As the wind ruffled her hair, Mirella smiled, at peace.

  A rumble shook Dallian’s body.

  “What was that?” Mirella asked.

  “The beast is happy.” Valentine laughed. “And now my wolf is happy too.”

  Dallian soared higher, playing a game of hide and seek with a storm of violet herons. The draglet flew below and over a bank of clouds, but didn’t dive through them as if mindful not to get its riders soaked.

  “How considerate of you, Dallian,” Valentine said. “For the record, this ruffian of a beast has never shown such restraint before.”

  “Thank you, Dallian.” Mirella rubbed its neck, making the draglet purr and rumble at the same time.

  “This is getting embarrassing.” Valentine laughed.

  Dallian flew in long figure eights, covering large distances in its fluid gliding. Below, the Great Plains were painted in every shade of orange, red, and purple. The burnt-brown of the rocks almost disappeared under a thick layer of mauve cacti, their blossoming flowers opening and closing, following Coral’s course across the sky. Woody plants that undulated with the force of the gusts sweeping the ground filled ridges and valleys. Rolling bushes traveled the plain in throngs.

  “Beautiful,” she commented after several minutes of silence.

  “Nothing compared to you.” Valentine pressed her against him, then brought his hand under her chin and gently coaxed her to tilt her head. He kissed her mouth with tenderness.

  Perfection, she thought. This moment is perfection.

  She stored the memory of that kiss atop Dallian in her secret vault, where she kept her most beautiful recollections.

  The draglet wept, but Mirella could sense that it wasn’t in pain.

  Safe in her husband’s arms, she enjoyed the remainder of the flight in contented silence.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When the wind became a gale and the clouds darkened, Valentine spurred Dallian toward the manor.

  The adverse weather wasn’t his only reason for flying back home. He wanted to take Mirella to his art studio where he could act on some of his fantasies. He would eventually finish the conversation he had started, but first he would shoot a few pictures of his beautiful bride. The forced abstinence had led him to vivid daydreams, and her departure was looming closer with every breath he took, threatening to rob him of that last pleasure.

  During the last few days, Valentine had tried to convince himself that he should be relieved to see her go. Mirella would be safe on Celestia in the property he had bought for her. She would live a full life in prosperity. He had told Gabriel he wouldn’t interfere in her life, and he would honor his word. But it pained him like a festering wound.

  If giving away all his possessions would have made a difference, he would have embraced the life of the pauper. The problem was his immortality though, his murderous heritage, his omnipresent wolf that had never given him respite.

  Ahead, a draglet and an airbike sailed toward them, gaining speed. The sight pushed his tortured considerations away, and he spurred Dallian ahead. Soon, he recognized the large shape of Carellian and Gabriel’s chromed airbike.

  “What now?” he said under his breath, but Mirella heard him.

  “Isn’t that Dragon and Gabriel?” Her body tensed under his hold.

  “Yes, it’s them.” Valentine’s hand rested on her hipbone and his fingers grazed her gown in soothing circles. “Let’s see what they want.” He maintained his voice neutral.

  It only took a few minutes to reach Carellian. Gabriel closed the distance a moment later.

  “What do you want?” Valentine stared at Dragon first, then at Gabriel.

  “The warehouse has been ransacked and burnt. My entire shipment of obsidian and tourmaline was stolen, as well as the new engine that arrived this morning,” Dragon answered, aligning Carellian with Dallian.

  The two draglets sniffed each other, then Dallian nudged Carellian’s nose with its flat, round muzzle.

  “When?” Valentine asked, anger mounting fast.

  “My guess is that while everyone was at the animal barns, the thieves went to the warehouse.” Gabriel maneuvered his airbike so that it hovered at an angle and he could look at both Dragon and Valentine.

  “The draglets were never the objective.” Valentine passed a hand over his head, feeling the regrowth of his hair he shaved every morning. As if on cue, the brand on his arm throbbed.

  “I’m afraid so,” Dragon said.

  Silently, Valentine led the party back home. He was tired and wanted nothing else but to be left alone with Mirella.

  As they approached the manor, burning spires became visible. On the opposite side of the animal barns, the warehouse containing Valentine’s entire crop of curcuma, as well as Dragon’s property, was in flames.

  Valentine landed at a safe distance and asked Mirella to stay back as he checked the damage. Dragon and Gabriel followed him. Aldo and Martali were coordinating the rescue of what could be salvaged from the ruins.

  His head guard was the first to see Valentine, and after talking to one of his men, he walked toward him. “Master Lobo, I have bad news.”

  “What is it?” Valentine looked at what was left of the warehouse’s wall facing the manor.

  The surface wrinkled and disintegrated before his eyes.

  “Three men were inside when the building erupted in flames.” Martali indicated where a column of guards, servants, and mechanical workers were passing buckets of water to douse the flames.

  Aldo saw Valentine and hurried to meet him.

  “Ours?” Valentine asked, then nodded at Aldo.

  Martali answered, “We don’t know yet.”

  Valentine sighed, then addressed Aldo, “I want the Blessed Bride inside the house and safe. Take a guard with you and don’t leave her alone until I’m back.”

  “Of course.” Aldo bowed, and after calling one of the uniformed men, he walked straight to Mirella.

  Valentine saw her shaking her head and looking his way, but he smiled and pointed at the manor. After a moment of hesitation, she finally lowered her head slightly and followed Aldo and the guard inside the house. Relieved that she would be well taken care of, Valentine asked the closest servant to lead the draglets to the barns. The beasts were afraid of the fire, and he could hear their cries getting more frantic. He then removed his jacket, folded his shirtsleeves over his elbows and hauled water at the beginning of the rescue line, while Gabriel and Dragon manned the water cannon that necessitated strong muscles to be operated.

  The concerted effort worked, and they were able to confine the fire in less than an hour, but the damage was extensive. Not a single wall remained intact. Where hundreds of crates containing dry curcuma had been stacked ceiling-high, only orange dust remained and the strong scent of burnt tea. The boxes that had stored preserved passionberries and applenuts had become a dark blob of organic material. The stench of ruined goods and wet charcoal filled the air.

  Coughing, Valentine brought a hand over his mouth. His eyes burned and his lungs hurt. Finally, his wolf senses caught a different scent among the multitude of smells.

  “There.” He indicated a corner and strode toward it.

  Dragon, Gabriel, and Martali followed him. They were as covered in soot as he was and their gait was tired as well.

  Valentine stopped
a few steps away from three human forms. Still smoking, they lay behind a demolished crate. When intact, the box had been large enough to cover them from sight. The fabric of their clothes was black and the bodies had burnt beyond recognition.

  From a few steps away, Valentine observed the corpses’ build. “Men.” He stepped closer to the remains. “There was a struggle,” he said, after examining the way the three bodies lay on the ground.

  One had fallen on his back with one hand pressed against his abdomen.

  “This one was dead before the fire started.” Valentine turned to face the opposite body which lay on its side, covered by a metal band. “One of the reinforced boxes fell and trapped this man under its weight. He tried to escape, but the fire stopped him.”

  Gabriel and Dragon stepped to the side as he moved around the second corpse, examining the third’s remains. “And this one tried to help his friend but wasted precious time and was engulfed by the flames before he could escape.”

  Covering his nose and mouth with a darkened handkerchief, Gabriel leaned over the third corpse, then gently nudged the incinerated arm with his boot. “What is that?” He bent and retrieved a piece of metal with his hankie. Holding the object with two fingers, he stretched his hand toward Valentine, then opened the corners of the cotton. “Look.” A gun lay at the center of it.

  “The guy over there was murdered, probably attempting to stop these two,” Martali said, taking possession of the gun, then proceeded to study it. With a low curse, he shook his head in disbelief. “It’s a Berelli—” He looked up at Valentine.

  “Is that detail important?” Dragon asked when neither Martali nor Valentine added anything to the guard’s statement.

  “Berelli guns are very expensive and hard to find on the black market. Only a handful of people is trained to use them.” Valentine grabbed the arm and gave it a closer look.

  “And who are they?” Gabriel asked.

  “The Royal Army and the High Priest Guard are among the ones who are issued Berellis to defend their employers.” Martali rubbed his chin. “But it doesn’t make sense.”

  “Before we jump to erroneous conclusions, let’s keep in mind that someone else could have gotten hold of that gun,” Gabriel said, pointing at the corpses. “Maybe it was done on purpose.”

  “Or maybe it’s exactly what it looks like,” Dragon interjected, voicing Valentine’s thought.

  “Call Balenus. He’ll autopsy the bodies.” Valentine exchanged a glance with Martali.

  The head guard nodded, then stepped outside to talk to his men.

  “What now?” Gabriel folded his arms over his chest.

  “Now, we take a good long bath.” Dragon patted the vampire’s shoulder. “There’s nothing else we can do here.”

  “He’s right.” Valentine turned and strode toward the manor.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mirella had not left the Green Parlor since Aldo had accompanied her inside.

  Her eyes glued on the large window, she had watched as Valentine and his friends relentlessly worked on dousing the flames that were devouring the big warehouse.

  Built like the rest of the manor, the utilitarian edifice had looked like an extension of the house with its wraparound porch, jutting balconies, arched windows two stories high, and the tiled roof with its dormers. Only ashes were left of the once beautiful building.

  “Would you like something to eat?” Aldo asked for the third time. “Maybe some refreshments? Something light?”

  The majordomo had remained by her side, while the guard was stationed in the hallway.

  “I’m still feeling queasy,” she answered, pressing her hand against her stomach.

  At the thought of eating, a new bout of nausea gripped her. She was worried for Valentine and it was upsetting her. Someone was trying their hardest to destroy him. The attacks were becoming more frequent, even daily.

  His words from earlier in the day came back to her.

  “You are in danger by my side, and I want you to be safe.”

  He had not lied to her. His whole body had exuded a wretched aura while he talked to her. And his touches and kisses too were loaded with desperation.

  Today’s events only confirmed that Valentine was sending her away to keep her safe. The realization was bittersweet. But then her wounded heart reminded her of the conversation she had eavesdropped outside his studio.

  He expressed more or less the same concept, she tried to argue with herself.

  Yes, but he said he didn’t want you to have a child of his.

  The whole incident replayed for her as it had happened every day since she ran away from the gardens.

  Valentine was angry. His answers to Gabriel were laced with contempt.

  But if he really doesn’t want me, why act like he’s pained by his decision? she thought, hugging herself tight.

  Master Lobo had no need to fake sentiments he didn’t feel. Mirella was the Blessed Bride and in his mind she was his to command. That had been clear at the beginning of their rocky relationship.

  He’s changed though.

  Outside, the attempts to rescue the warehouse had come to an end, and the men were slowly returning to the manor.

  Valentine’s large form soon became visible among the others. Even though Dragon was bigger than her husband, she still recognized him at first try.

  Without thinking, she whirled around and went to the door.

  “Blessed Bride,” Aldo called, a step behind.

  “My husband is coming back,” she said, entering the hallway and nodding at the guard.

  Escorted by the two men, she ran to the foyer, reaching the outer door as Valentine strode in. She was in his arms before he could say anything. The overpowering smell of smoke clung to him and ashes covered every centimeter of his exposed skin. Uncaring, she hugged him closer.

  “Kitten,” he whispered in her ear. “You are shaking.”

  Only then did Mirella notice how much she was trembling, but his strong arms caressed her back, pressing her body to his. She melted against his hard chest, letting his strength envelop her, until the shaking abated. He kept rocking her afterward.

  A small crowd stood silently around them, witnessing their private moment with different expressions on their faces. Aldo remained impassive and the guard seemed uninterested by Mirella and Valentine’s public display of affection, the servants tried to look busy, but Gabriel and Dragon couldn’t hide their smiles fast enough when Valentine raised his head.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do?” Valentine asked, sending everyone scurrying away but his two friends who stood their ground.

  Mirella couldn’t help but smile at Gabriel and Dragon, and Valentine’s reaction was immediate. He maneuvered her around so that the Solarian High Lord was hidden from her view.

  “Aldo, the guests need warm baths and food delivered to their apartments,” Valentine said to his majordomo. Then he pressed his hand on the small of Mirella’s back. “I am not to be disturbed until tomorrow,” he added, walking past Aldo and his two highly amused friends.

  “Where are we going?” Mirella asked when instead of taking the stairs to the second floor, he led her toward his studio.

  “To the place where I can collect my gift at long last,” he answered, without stopping at the studio’s door. He passed it and entered a hallway that headed to a wing Mirella had never visited before.

  They hastily walked through several lounges and parlors. The spacious rooms were illuminated by large windows and even skylights, which meant that portion of the manor jutted over like an enormous greenhouse attached to the building. The usual display of elegant vases and sculptures decorated drop-leaf tables and columns. Gilded, whirring mirrors with their refocusing lens and more of Valentine’s paintings hung on the walls. Mechanical workers moved along the sides, keeping the place dust-free. Clockwork pieces populated the manor, but here they were the only servants around as if Valentine didn’t want humans working in that wing.
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  Finally, Valentine slowed his pace and opened the door to a parlor that looked like it was made entirely of glass.

  “I’ll take a quick shower and be right back,” he said, disappearing behind one of the two doors opening into the room and leaving her alone in the transparent box.

  If it weren’t for the polished hardwood slates under her heels, Mirella would have suffered a severe case of vertigo. Her eyes would have tricked her into thinking she was freefalling into the steep decline outside.

  Free to peruse the place, she looked around filled with curiosity and excitement. Canvases were everywhere. Some of them were blank, others had splashes of color on them. A few paintings were completed but for a few details. Although the space was clean, a sort of creative chaos pervaded it, giving the quarters a happy feeling.

  Opening into the main room, there was a smaller chamber, equally surrounded by glass from floor to ceiling. Not as crowded as the painting room, this one contained a few of the lifelike pictures Valentine had shown her in the library the night of the ball. The ones in the studio were mostly landscapes though, only a few depicting different women, but none of them as scandalous as the images Valentine had shown her. On a tripod, there was a strange-looking machine that resembled one of the box-like clockwork pieces, but it didn’t seem animated, and it faced a large bed with an intricate ironwork frame.

  The sight of the bed surprised Mirella, who stepped to the side and toward the exit, but Valentine’s hand on the small of her back stopped her. She hadn’t heard him coming.

  “I did ask you to pose for me, remember?” Valentine spun her around to face him. He was still wet, but wore fresh clothes that had attached to his skin and smelled like spring and red lavender.

  “This is where you take your pictures?” she asked, her stomach in her throat.

  “Among other places, yes.” He tilted her chin up and lowered his lips to her mouth. “Strip for me.”

  Mirella backed away from him, her eyes traveling from the machine to the bed.

  “I’ll be behind the camera,” he said, as if that was going to reassure her.