Temptation Of The Moon: A Silver Moon Novel

by L. S. Slayford

  When he was standing a few feet in front of her, he opened it and pulled out a glittering orb. It was much smaller than the phantasm orbs, or ghost balls as her brother called them, the size of a wonton dumpling. Iridescent light shone from his hand. “This is somewhat like the phantasms, in that it can feel hot or cold and show you painful memories, but it isn’t formed from a tortured soul. I’m going to break it in front of you. Your job is to break free from the illusion.”

  “That’s it? Break through the illusion?” she asked, cocking her head, her brows creasing. It sounded so simple.

  Pierre shook his head, his nose flaring slightly. “It’s harder than you may think, my little one. It plays on your deepest fears, your deepest emotions. You are so wrapped up in the illusions of the past that you cannot see what is going on in the present.”

  “So how do I break free of its influence?”

  “Try to see past whatever it shows you. Enough talking. Time to react.”

  Before Luna could take a breath, she watched Pierre squeeze the orb, the shimmering light blasting through the air before her, the iridescent glow consuming everything until it faded and darkness swallowed her as she closed her eyes.

  When she opened them, she was back in her apartment. Whitewashed walls, adorned with brightly coloured paintings, surrounded her. The windows were open, natural light flooding through so brightly it made fresh snow seem dull and grey. A table and chairs stood to her right, the door to the kitchen just behind it while the scent of peppermint tea saturated her senses. Breathing in the tea was almost as refreshing as drinking the tea itself. The shrill of the phone to her left caused her to jump. Luna tentatively stepped towards it. Reaching down, she picked up the receiver and held it to her ear.

  “Salut?” she whispered.

  “Sis, it’s me.” Michael’s voice was thick with emotion.

  “Michael, what’s wrong?” she asked. “Why are you ringing me so early?”

  “I … I need to tell you something. Mom and dad were in an accident tonight. They’re dead.”

  “Non. Non. Do not tell me lies, Michael. Please tell me you are joking.”

  “I’m sorry, Luna, I wish I was, but it’s true. You need to come home … to say goodbye.”

  Luna fell to her knees, grief engulfing her, the pain overwhelming her senses. Hot tears spilled from the corners of her eyes, silent screams pouring from her open mouth as Michael’s words reverberated in her head. The darkness of grief strangled her veins, a dark cobweb which enclosed her mind. She was lost within the pain, blinded by tears. Finally, the silent screams transformed into loud cries, drowning out Michael’s voice through the receiver still clutched tightly in her hand. How long she sat on the floor, she couldn’t tell, but the persistent knocking on the door pierced through her wails. Luna shakily got to her feet and, zombie-like staggered towards the door. As her hand reached out to open it, she knew it would be Pierre. Pierre would be there, but why …

  Because it has already happened, a voice whispered in her head. Gasping for breath, she scrunched her face up in concentration. You’ve experienced this before. That was it. This wasn’t happening. Her parents had died last year. This was just a memory.

  Suddenly, the door in front of her disappeared. Pierre stood in front of her, his face etched in concern. “What did you see, my little love?” he asked, his voice soft and anxious.

  Luna struggled to keep her breathing under control. “It was … it was the day that Michael rang to tell me our parents had died. Someone was knocking at the door. As I was reaching for it, I realised it was you on the other side. When I asked myself why I knew it was you, I remembered that it had already happened.”

  Pierre nodded. “You broke through the illusion, and when you did, you were able to see again. You have done extraordinarily well, Luna.” There was a tightness in his voice, but beneath it, Luna could hear the unmistakable tone of pride.

  Luna closed her eyes and, wrapping her arms around her chest, rocked herself back and forth. “It hurts, Pierre. Why do memories hurt so much?”

  Strong arms wrapped around her body. “Some memories cannot be healed. Painful memories are like sharp thorns that pierce the heart, and they can cause you to bleed more than any other weapon.”

  Luna looked up at him through the tears blurring her vision. “What memories make your heart bleed, Pierre?” she asked him, her voice a mere whisper.

  “There are so many. I was not always such a good man,” he replied, his words coated in thick sadness.

  “Can you show me?” Luna asked, her voice small, her face softening as she locked gazes with him.

  Releasing her, Pierre walked back to where the satchel lay on the floor. Pulling out another ball, he handed it to her. “Squeeze it, and the magic will work. But be prepared, Luna. History is not always as pretty as books make out.” Giving him a slight nod, Luna looked down at the orb in her hand. Various hues of silver and pink swirled in glittering patterns, the sphere warm in her hand. She took a step closer to Pierre. Twisting her around, so that her back was pressed tightly against his chest, Pierre had one hand holding her around her waist, the other hand closing around hers. “Do it,” he whispered in her ear.

  As she did, the same shimmering light spilled around them, the world disappearing before their eyes. The mistiness that surrounded them pulsed, then ripped apart like a curtain tearing at the seams. When the light faded, a new world had taken its place.

  It took a moment for Luna’s eyes to acclimatise to the darkness. They were in a room, heavy curtains blocking out the light, with only a single candle burning in the corner providing illumination. A hiss resounded in her ear. She felt his body stiffen against hers. Something told her that he knew what was coming and he wasn’t happy about it.

  A door creaked open, a shadowy figure emerging through it. Squinting, Luna could make out a cloak, a face mostly hidden in shadows. “Pierre,” came an anxious soft feminine voice. “You must go, quickly. They are coming.”

  “They don’t know where I am, Marie,” he whispered behind her, his tone filled with pleading. Pierre’s hands stretched out, and Luna found her own moving with his. It was almost as if they were moulded into a single being, forced by the past to repeat what had already happened. “They cannot know I am here.”

  Regret encrusted the woman’s soft voice. “You have been betrayed, my sweet boy. They will be here in a few minutes. You must leave.”

  “Where am I to go?” Hopelessness and fear layered Pierre’s words.

  Luna made out a quick shake of a head in the relative darkness. “I do not know. Make your way to Calais and take a ship to England. Seek shelter in London or any of the cities there. You cannot linger here. They have already killed your mother and Jacques. If they find you here, they will kill my family and me too. Leave and be safe! May the gods bless you.”

  Luna found herself moving forward, through that door. All she could see was a blur of shadows and darkness as Pierre ran with her through an unfamiliar house. It was as if something compelled her to move. It was instinctual. When they emerged through a door, she spied a man at the bottom of the drive by the gate, obviously waiting for them.

  Waiting for Pierre, she reminded herself.

  Wearing charcoal trousers, a dirty shirt which must have been white at one point, and a waistcoat splattered with fresh blood, a smarmy smile spread across his face. “Just the freak we have been waiting for. You’re coming with us, boy.”

  “Get out of my way or die,” Pierre growled behind her.

  “Don’t make me laugh,” the man told them, chuckling as he tossed a knife up in the air, catching it, and then repeating the gesture. “You’re not strong enough to kill me. Neither was your mother.”

  Luna gasped as she was forced forward again, heading straight from the knife-wielding man waiting for them, Pierre’s grip stronger around her waist. Anger radiated from his pores. As they sped closer, Luna gasped as his eyes transformed into amber.

  Werewo
lf eyes.

  The world was transformed into a blur of fists and kicks as they fought the werewolf. Blasts of air whipped past Luna’s head – or perhaps it was Pierre’s head - as she twisted to the side, narrowly missing a fist to the abdomen. Hot rage blasted around them as they fell to the ground. A clang rang out by her feet. Glancing down, she saw the werewolf had dropped the knife. Releasing her hand, Luna felt herself automatically reaching for it, as if compelled by some strange sorcery. But she could see the outline of Pierre’s hand merging with her own, as if two layers were melting into one. The metal was cold in her hand. An urge to throw it at the attacker overwhelmed her. With a cry, she flung it through the air toward him.

  It missed.

  Elongated teeth snapped towards Luna’s throat. Fear coiled within her chest and raced down her veins. Pierre’s fist struck out, penetrating his throat, through to the other side. Blood and tissue coated his hand as he pulled it out of the werewolf, his amber eyes darkening as he slumped lifelessly to the ground.

  Screams forced Luna to look up. A group of people had gathered around, looks of horror etched across their faces. Cries flooded the air. Struggling to stand up, Luna took a shaky step forward. She tasted her pulse in her throat.

  The reason for the horror was clear.

  The knife that she had whipped through the air had buried itself into the heart of a young girl. No more than thirteen, her light-coloured dress was already soaked in rich crimson blood, tendrils of dirty brown hair framing a pale, lifeless face. A strangled cry tore through the air. Hers. Pierre’s. Both. One layer of pain on top of the other.

  “Enough,” croaked Pierre, his voice cracking with regret and shame. “It’s time to leave.”

  The illusion faded away, but the memory of what she had seen still lingered as the snow and naked trees came back into view.

  “Pierre,” she whispered, not really knowing what to say, the emotions overwhelming her. Together they sank to the ground, the snow cushioning their fall, Pierre’s grip still tight around her waist.

  “So many thorns,” he whispered, his voice weighed down by regret and sorrow. “They pierce my heart and soul every time I think back to the past. You have just seen one of the thorns that bind me to my world of pain, my sweet Luna. I didn’t mean to kill the girl, I swear. It was an accident; I was aiming for the werewolf … but I missed. Badly. I managed to escape the crowds – you didn’t see that they found me standing there, covered in blood – but I have never escaped the memory of that young girl’s death. Years later, I found out who she was. I made sure each of her siblings, even the girls, had an education and the family never went hungry again. I did everything I could to make up for my dark deed, but I will never be a good man.”

  Luna twisted around, tears spilling over her eyes once again. She placed a hand tenderly on his cheek, the coolness of his skin so familiar, and brought his head down so their foreheads touched. “It was an accident, Pierre. I know you didn’t do it on purpose, I could feel your sorrow and pain when you discovered what had happened. You tried your best to help the family afterwards because you felt guilty. You are a good man, Pierre. Even if you don’t see it, I do.”

  Pierre rested his head on her shoulder, gently kissing the delicate skin on her collarbone. A cold tear dropped onto her neck, trailing down her skin, past the spot where the touch of his lips lingered. His voice cracked, and Luna could feel the tears within his words. “You always see the best in people, my little one. That is why I love you. My soul is yours. Every shattered fragment, every stained inch … it’s all yours.”

  Five

  The world was suffocating, pressing downwards until it flattened her into the floor, or at least that was how Luna was feeling. She had been tossing and turning all night, unable to get more than a few hours’ sleep before waking up to the sensation of someone watching her.

  Because there always was.

  Michael regularly checked in on her through the night since she outright refused to share a room with him, slowly opening her door to ensure that nothing had crept into the house without his knowledge. He’d obviously tried to do it quietly, but the creaky hinges always woke her up. Glancing at the time on her phone, Luna reckoned it would only be an hour or so before he checked in again. Urgh.

  There was nothing worse than an overprotective brother with a dozen people under his command. Chase, as his beta, took his alpha’s orders without hesitation and Pierre, even though he wasn’t a member of the pack, was happy enough to accept his command to keep Luna safe.

  Safe. Luna should be happy that there was a team of supernatural beings ready to protect her with their lives – as they had demonstrated in the past – but the bubble of frustration was slowly consuming her. What she wouldn’t give just to have a couple of hours to herself, without the shadows of Michael and the others darkening her personal space. But no, they continued to follow her around, never getting more than a few feet from her at all times.

  Sighing, Luna sat up in bed, the duvet wrapped around her legs. What she wouldn’t give just for some freedom right about now. True, Michael was in his room across the hall, but he was still too close for comfort. If she just sat on the porch, getting some fresh air, what harm could it do?

  Gingerly, she got to her feet. With each quiet step she took towards her bedroom door where her robe and slippers waited, her muscles reminded her of the intensity of yesterday’s training session. Ignoring the ache as best as she could, Luna quickly pulled the thick plush damson robe over her flannel pyjamas before slipping into her faux fur bootie slippers. They may not have looked sexy, but they were warm. Just as she reached for the door, her eyes fell onto the black box sitting on her dresser. Better to be safe than sorry, she told herself. Slowly, she opened the lid, revealing the dagger inside.

  Only a few months ago, this dagger had saved her life. Six inches long and only an inch wide, the metal shone in the fading darkness, the black hilt decorated with geometric designs. Chase had given it to her, the magic it possessed useless in his hands. It only worked for women. As far as they knew, it contained two powers – the ability to set things alight when you said the word ignite, and the ability to suck the life force out of whoever’s body it was plunged into. Luna had found out about the second power through personal experience. Even now, the horror as all the life drained out of the werewolf she had stabbed gave her shivers. Securing the dagger in the side of her pyjama bottoms, Luna welcomed the warmth the blade gave off. For a brief moment, it was as though it enjoyed being next to her, like a cat purring and rubbing itself against its mistress.

  Slowly, trying not to disturb her brother, Luna opened the door and crept down the stairs. Taking care not to step on the creaky one in the middle, she heaved a sigh of relief when she managed to get all the way without Michael catching her. Now for the tough part; opening the front door.

  To her right, the fancy alarm system that Michael had installed stood out in the shadows. Quickly punching in the code, she held her breath as the audible click sounded in the silence. The metal handle was cold in her hands as she pulled the door open enough so that she could slip out and then closed it with the softest click.

  Outside, the air was as still as glass but cold enough to hurt. Gasping as the cold air hit her face, Luna hurried to close the door behind her. Bitterly cold, the sky was still dark but just starting to lose some of its intensity. Stars twinkled above, fading with the coming of dawn, visible through the light drizzle of snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground. Ice clung to every tree limb. Her breath was vapour in the wind, the cold licking at her exposed skin. Clutching her dressing gown tighter against her body, Luna headed for her favourite seat on the porch, lightly dusted with snow, protected against the falling snow.

  Freedom. She was finally alone. The thought reverberated in her head, a mantra that breathed satisfaction throughout her mind each time she repeated the words. This was exactly what she needed. A smile drifted across her face as she inhaled the crisp air, takin
g in the beauty of the early morning. The woods in front of her were a line of dark shadows and pure white snow. Virginia was a world away from the bustle of Paris. There, even in the dead of winter, in the early mornings, the noise would find its way up through her closed windows. While she was used to it, the silence of the woods filled her with a comfort that she hadn’t really expected when she returned.

  As she glanced upwards, watching snowflakes fall from the pre-dawn sky, something caught her attention. A creak just off to the side of the long driveway that hid the family house from the main road. Eyes widening slightly, Luna froze, her breath lodging in the back of her throat. You should get back inside now, a little voice told her, but curiosity took hold of her, demanding to know what was out there threatening her sense of freedom.

  Slowly rising to her feet, Luna made her way towards the steps. Nothing was visible in the shadows of the woods that she could see as she as she squinted through the snowfall, but Luna carefully made her way down. The cold air began to numb the skin of her face, the residual heat she’d brought with her from the house fading with each step. Each breath produced another cloud of vapour that threatened to block her vision. Gently, Luna stepped onto the snow, the thick powder causing her to sink into it up to her ankles, pulling more heat away from within her body. Clutching her robe tighter as if to stop the precious heat from escaping, she took several steps forward.

  A whisper of sound breathed through the woods. The creak came again. An icy shiver ran down Luna’s spine. The voice in her head urged her to go back, but she froze in place. Luna craned her head to the side, trying to pin down the exact location where the noise originated from. Holding her breath, she attempted to peer into the utter blackness of the woods, where the lightening dawn or the still visible moon still couldn’t touch.

  Another crack sounded throughout the clearing, a whisper on the wind. Twisting her head to the right, Luna gasped.