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

by Monica La Porta

  “Master—” Aldo called when Valentine walked past him, heading toward the animal barns.

  “Tell Martali I took Dallian and went looking for the place where they kept Merian.” With the corner of his eye, Valentine saw Gabriel hurrying toward him, and when the vampire was at earshot distance, he repeated his plan to him.

  “I’ll follow you with my airbike.” Gabriel turned and ran in the opposite direction to the mechanical barns.

  Dallian welcomed his master with low purrs, and when the beast saw Valentine unhook its saddle from the wall, it excitedly jumped on all fours. Then it trotted along the hallway, eager to leave the barn.

  Once they reached the strip outside, Valentine mounted the draglet. “Let’s go find your friends,” he said, whispering low in Dallian’s ear as he dangled Merian’s reins in front of its large nostrils.

  Dallian emitted a guttural chirp and shook its head a few times before snorting steaming breaths that singed the grass.

  “We’ll make them pay for what they did to the other draglets. I promise.” Valentine caressed the beast’s round head with soothing touches.

  Soon, Dallian calmed. When Carellian galloped to its side, they stared at each other for a moment, as if silently communicating, then both took off at once. Gabriel was already in the air, waiting for them.

  Following their nostrils, the two draglets set on a course and with sure aim kept flying north-west, toward the mountainous ridges bordering the Great Plain. They didn’t ascend high at first, but maintained their wings a few meters from the ground for the first part of their hunt. Then they slowly rode higher, on the tail of a thermal.

  Gabriel’s airbike was fast, but not as fast as the draglets. Soon, he lagged behind, but shouted for Valentine and Dragon to forge ahead.

  Knowing that the vampire couldn’t lose track of the voluminous flying bodies, Valentine waved his hand and let Dallian and Carellian set their pace.

  Their wings swelled and billowed as the majestic creatures glided in and out of cloud formations. At the higher altitudes, purple rain showered draglets and riders, freezing them, but they rode on, undeterred by the adverse weather.

  If anything, both Dallian and Carellian seemed more and more focused on their task as the hours passed.

  The vast plains of purple cacti and orange-brown meadows flew under them in a blur of colors and scents. Rivers of churning waters reflected the ever-changing hues of Coral’s rays, marking the passing of time as the pink changed into a pale fuchsia in the afternoon. It then morphed into crimson red when the sun lowered behind the mountain ridge, and the Fifth Moon rose in the sky.

  Valentine raised his eyes high and sent a silent prayer to the astral body to let him find Mirella safe and sound. His wolf united in the plea, crying to the moon as thoughts of frolicking furry cubs filled Valentine’s mind. The image sent a shiver down Valentine’s spine, but at the same time, he sympathized with his wolf’s longing.

  I know it’s in your nature, wolf, to want to prosper. It’s just that my bride is my entire life, and her light will be dimmed forever, leaving me in the dark. When our cub comes, it won’t be just Mirella dying, I will too.

  The wolf listened, tilting his head to the side, then sprawled to the ground in its imaginary silvery meadow. It gave the moon a last mournful cry and lowered its head over its large paws.

  Suddenly, a voice chanted in Valentine’s mind words in a language he had learned so long ago, he had all but forgotten about it.

  Amor Vincit Omnia

  “Amor Vincit Omnia,” Valentine repeated out loud.

  “What did you say?” Dragon asked. They had been flying side by side and exchanged a few words once in a while, but for the most part they had kept silent. “Did you just speak in Latin?”

  Nodding, Valentine said, “Love conquers any obstacle.”

  “Aye.” Dragon brought his fisted hand to his chest. “Your bride will be at your side soon.”

  It will be but the blink of an eye, our time together. Valentine pressed his palm against his heart.

  He would cherish her and love her until—

  Forcing his mind away from that line of thought, Valentine focused on the flight.

  By the time the Fifth Moon shone above Sidera Prime, Dallian had pushed its body for hours without a break. Worried for his stallion’s health, Valentine had managed to slow its pace once or twice, but the draglet had kept flying even when it was clear it needed to rest. Valentine ordered Dallian to land, and Dragon did the same with Carellian, but the draglets didn’t mind their orders and led them all the way to the foot of the mountain ridge.

  Only when a remote shelter came into sight did the stallions finally spiral toward the ground where they lay exhausted.

  Valentine dismounted and ran into the wooden edifice built like a giant barn. His hopes to find Mirella were dashed by the sight of a dilapidated and mostly empty space where a small herd of draglets huddled in a corner. His stolen herd. Looking malnourished and bearing evident signs of mistreatment, the beasts were shivering and had created a protective circle around a small bairn.

  The body of the mother lay motionless while the father mourned by her side, its round head touching the female’s. Valentine had acquired them as a couple. Carinne and Malero. Draglets mated for life.

  “They’ll pay for this too.” Valentine seethed in anger.

  To his utter surprise, the Solarian was crying. His big body was shaken by sobs as he walked through the herd and cradled the bairn in his arms. He removed his leather jacket and wrapped the small draglet in its warmth, rocking the bairn like a newborn baby. “Why would anyone mistreat such gentle creatures to this extent?” Dragon’s eyes went to the mourning draglet and its dead companion.

  Valentine’s wolf howled then, leaving Valentine breathless as pain exploded in his chest. Crippled by the overwhelming emotion, he kneeled, then raised his head to the rafters and let his wolf roar.

  When Gabriel arrived, he found Valentine and Dragon sitting by Malero, trying to soothe the animal’s pain.

  “Has it imprinted yet?” Gabriel asked, looking down at the newborn draglet Dragon had laid beside Malero, so that the father would recognize it as its offspring and vice versa.

  “Not yet,” Dragon answered, still coaxing the male to lick its son’s head in acceptance.

  “Are they all accounted for?” Gabriel’s eyes swept the entire barn.

  “All but one,” Valentine answered.

  Given the treatment the rest of the herd had received, the missing one was probably dead. But there wasn’t a lot he could do at the moment.

  Looking up, Valentine said, “I must leave and Dallian needs to rest.”

  Gabriel immediately tossed him the keys dangling from his fingers.

  “I’ll send back the medicus and a few hands to help move the herd.” Valentine gazed once more at the mournful sight and stood.

  At the barn’s door, he heard Gabriel whisper, “For the bairn’s sake, I hope the father can overcome its grief.”

  Valentine had the same hope.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Looking at the stale bread, Mirella wondered where Ronda slipped the sedative that left her in a stolid state. Was it in the foul food she had been eating? Or was it in the sour milk that was the only beverage she had been served?

  She could decide not to eat or drink for the remainder of her imprisonment. But how long would she last without sustenance?

  In the long hours she spent in complete solitude, she argued back and forth with herself, trying to decide which choice was the lesser evil. To starve with her mind more or less intact or prolong her agony in a numbed state? What was worse for her child? She needed her wits about her to find a way out of that cell. But if she didn’t eat or drink anything, her strength would dim to nothing, and she would eventually slide into a state of unconsciousness, as had happened before Ronda started leaving those filthy trays behind.

  Eventually, she tore a chunk from the hard bread, t
hen dunked it into the glass of milk. She nursed it in her mouth for a few seconds before swallowing it. When she was done with her meager meal, she dusted her gown and braided her hair. In her attempt to keep her sanity, she filled her waking time with small tasks. She repeated them every few hours in the same order.

  Soon her eyelids grew heavier and the tendrils of sleep enveloped her in a dreamless twilight. She was never truly slumbering though. She heard steps and voices now and then, but she couldn’t open her eyes.

  On previous occasions, she had overheard Ronda talk outside the cell. Usually, Mirella’s attention didn’t last long because the woman’s bickering with whomever was outside was tedious to listen to after the first few insults. Ronda usually complained about how she was treated and that she deserved better because she was their master’s favorite.

  This time, it was soon evident that the conversation taking place outside was of a different kind. For once, the courtesan spoke with a deferential tone.

  Mirella made an effort to keep her eyes open even though she couldn’t see anything besides shadows moving under the door. Soon, she realized that it took too much energy. She shut her eyes and opened her ears instead.

  “She’s still alive as you ordered, but—” Ronda said, her tone petulant.

  “Cut a strip of fabric from her brassier.” A man’s voice resonated loud and clear.

  “We should get rid of her already. I didn’t sign up to babysit the brat,” Ronda said, her deferential tone gone.

  “You’ll do as you’re told. These are the leader’s orders and you don’t want to enrage him.”

  “But you promised me you’d take me to your house, that I would be at your side, sleeping in your bed.”

  “Soon.”

  “But when? I’ve been relegated here, in this godforsaken hovel for the last four days, waiting for you to show up.”

  “I am here now, am I not?”

  “Yes, but how long will you stay?”

  “You know I can’t stay.”

  “You’re going back to your wife—”

  “Of course I’m going back to my wife. Nobody must suspect I’m helping the insurgence or all our plans will be for naught.”

  “You promised me—”

  “Everything I said will happen. Not just today. Be patient, woman.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as the ransom is paid, the Leader will give the order to kill the Blessed Bride—”

  “Is it true he asked for a billion reales?”

  “Yes. That would set the werewolf back for a long time.” The man paused for a moment, then continued, “Without a suitable bride engineered for him, Lobo will have to wait several centuries before he can produce an heir. That will give the insurgence enough time to destroy his empire and finally him.”

  “I can’t wait to finally be in your bed, with you. Rado—”

  “Soon. Now, do what I told you.”

  A few seconds of silence were followed by booted steps moving away from the door. A moment later, Ronda burst in with the same pair of rusted scissors she had used to cut a lock from Mirella’s hair.

  “I will get rid of you,” Ronda mumbled under her breath.

  Her mind was fully aware, but Mirella couldn’t move a muscle. Her eyelids were glued, making her other senses the more alert for it.

  Ronda’s breath fanned over Mirella’s cheek. It was warm compared to the chilly air in the cell.

  “Don’t tarry.” The man’s voice came from inside the room, and it was impatient.

  Mirella’s corset was grabbed and pulled apart in one angry rip. Her chemise was torn next. Cold fingers grasped at the lace of her brassiere, uncovering her flesh.

  “You are pathetic,” Ronda hissed lower. “What does he see in you—” Her hand squeezed Mirella’s breast.

  The pain brought tears to Mirella’s eyes, and for the first time, her resolution to maintain her hopes high deserted her.

  “Stop—” the man admonished the courtesan. “Do not test my patience, woman.”

  Ronda opened her hand and swiftly brought down the scissors to cut the cup of the brassiere. “Let the wolf think his bride is exposed for everyone to see,” she said with a wicked glee in her voice as she worked on the second cup.

  Then the courtesan was out of sight, and Mirella’s chest heaved in relief.

  Ronda wasn’t gone though. Her dark presence hovered nearby. “I’d give anything to see Master Lobo’s face when he receives our gift.”

  “That’ll make him understand once and for all that we aren’t joking,” the man said.

  Mirella heard the woman spin on her heels and walk back to the cot.

  “This will seal the deal.” Ronda’s words didn’t have time to sink in Mirella’s mind.

  Ronda grabbed her right hand, then arched her index finger backward. A pointed edge was pressed against Mirella’s pad until her flesh broke. Throbbing pain exploded inside her finger and propagated lower to her entire hand. Her warm essence trickled down and crept inside her sleeve.

  “You bleed like everyone else.” Ronda snorted, then mopped the cut with uncompassionate strokes, soaking the torn fabric of her brassier with Mirella’s blood.

  Finally, the woman released Mirella’s hand that plopped lifelessly to the cot.

  “Here,” Ronda said from a few steps away. “Lobo will go crazy with worry, imagining all the ways we’ve tortured his bride.”

  “You are devious—” There was admiration in the man’s voice.

  “You are sure you must go now?” Ronda purred.

  The door was closed, but Mirella had stopped listening.

  Tears fell copiously from her now open eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Valentine rode Gabriel’s airbike at full speed, but the vehicle, although brand new and with modified engines, could never be as fast as a draglet. Not even his Desert Fire could compete with Dallian.

  Coral was already high in the sky when he reached the manor. The ever-present shadow of Sidera Prime filled Valentine with dread. Usually, the flat disk of the space station was a benevolent presence in Valentine’s life, but he knew that soon he would have to confront the Brotherhood again. By now, the Council had reunited and proclaimed the best course of action regarding Mirella’s abduction.

  Valentine wasn’t in the mood to listen to his brethren telling him what do. Especially when the Brotherhood’s decision was a foregone conclusion.

  Tired, hungry, thirsty, utterly disheveled, and in one of the worst moods of his life, Valentine met Aldo at the front door.

  The majordomo didn’t take his riding jacket as usual, but pointed his chin at the grounds. “Master, another draglet has come back a few hours ago.”

  “How is it?”

  “Fine now. The beast is severely malnourished and must have flown for several hours.” Aldo seemed to hesitate a moment as if looking for the right words to convey the rest.

  “Did the draglet carry a second box?” Valentine asked.

  Aldo nodded. “It’s in your studio.”

  With his stomach lodged high in his throat, Valentine ran through the hallways. Servants and mechanical workers flattened to the walls to let him pass. It felt like déjà vu.

  He burst into the studio a few heartbeats later.

  The box lay on the desk. Small and plain, it was mirrored on the smooth surface of the table that had been polished to a shine.

  Valentine’s nostrils caught a sweet whiff.

  His heart halted and his lungs stopped pumping air. Suddenly, his legs felt like lead, rooting him to the spot. He forced his feet forward and reached the edge of the desk. Leaning over the box, he gingerly touched the lid.

  At a closer distance, the scent was impossible to confound with anything else but Mirella’s blood, and terrifying images of amputated limbs filled his eyes.

  His wolf’s roar split his head in two.

  He opened the box. This time, the first thing he saw was a note, but he moved it aside, unc
overing what lay beneath.

  Blood. Several hours old, but just blood and it was starting to decompose. The smell was overpowering and blinded his other senses for a moment. His fingers gingerly touched lace fabric. When he was able to focus his eyes on what he was touching, he saw two scrapes of flimsy cotton soaked in blood.

  He recognized the material as belonging to one of Mirella’s undergarments. A brassiere. The two irregular lace circles had been cut from her bras’ cups.

  Someone had touched, humiliated, and hurt his bride.

  Valentine clutched the fabric in his closed fist and howled in pain. Hatred filled him. His eyes went to the note he had discarded.

  At noon. Fortnight Point.

  Bring the money.

  Alone. Or the Blessed Bride is dead.

  The mirror behind the desk whirred to life. After a moment of silence, Aretius’s voice echoed in the studio.

  “The Brotherhood doesn’t negotiate with thieves,” he said.

  Valentine didn’t turn to face the Brother. He had expected as much. “I won’t let those thieves kill my bride.”

  “Another bride will be made for you.”

  “I don’t want another.”

  “What you want is not important. The Brotherhood has deliberated.”

  “You have no heart,” Valentine said. “What about our heir?”

  “That’s unfortunate, and I admit it pains me.” Aretius sounded contrite. “But it doesn’t change the Brotherhood’s decision.”

  Aretius’s face vanished in a swirl as Valentine turned and drove his fist through the picture hung to the side of the mirror, glass flying everywhere as the frame tumbled from the wall.

  “Master?” Aldo called from the door.

  “Call the mechanical barn and tell them to bring the Desert Fire to the front.” Valentine tore the note in pieces that were soon stained with the blood dripping from his hand.

  “Let me help you.” Aldo was at his side, his palm cupping Valentine’s injured hand before Valentine could protest.

  He watched as the majordomo carefully removed shards of glass from his knuckles and the back of his hand. Without a word, Aldo cleaned and staunched the blood with a clean handkerchief he provided from one of his livery’s pockets.