The Moon Shines Red (Heart of Darkness Book 1)

by Pamela Sparkman

  I watched him with utmost fascination. When he flapped his wings and took off for flight, I pursued him, and what a beautiful sight it was. He owned the sky, floating on air like he was out taking a leisurely stroll. Not a care in the world.

  He led me deeper into the forest, farther than I’d ever gone, and the deeper I went, the lighter the forest became. The trees thinned out, allowing the light to seep through. Colors started to come into focus. Lush green moss, lilacs, and vibrant yellows painted the ground beneath my feet. I had stepped into a wonderland. Birds of every color dipped and soared above my head. Dragonflies fluttered to and fro.

  I looked behind me at the forest I knew. The dark green foliage of elms and oaks sat like lumps of uninspired imagination. But the view in front of me…it was a paradise unlike anything I’d ever seen.

  What was this place?

  I followed the owl until the sounds of a roaring waterfall filled my ears. A wall of blue satin and strings of silver flowed from high atop a mountain, plunging enormous depths into a pool beneath, turning into foaming whitecaps that bled into water so calm and so clear. The sound of the raging water was deafening. The airy sprays glittered and sparkled in the sun’s soft rays, and I was transfixed, never having seen anything more beautiful in all my life.

  And then I saw a man standing underneath the waterfall, bathing in the silvery ribbons of water cascading over translucent skin and hair black as the night. My eyes were as wide as the owl’s as I took him in. He stood naked, his back to me, unaware he was no longer alone.

  Then slowly, he turned, as if he’d sensed my presence. When his eyes found mine, I was unable to look away. His eyes were unlike anything I’d ever seen. Like mint-pearls. And for the first time, I actually wanted to see another person’s thoughts, to know what made their soul come alive. It was inexplicable, but there was something beguiling about him

  The next thing I knew he was standing in front of me. His expression was severe, yet there was something thoughtful underneath it all. I blinked and blinked again, and let my eyes fall to his lips. They were moving and I realized he was talking. I shook my head, desperate to clear the haze.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said…you’re standing on my clothes.”

  His mint-pearl eyes lost their thoughtfulness and his mouth pinched into a thin line.

  I jumped back and stared down at my feet. “I am so sorry.” I shook my head again, wishing I could die. I was already dying of embarrassment. I just needed someone to push me over the edge, let me fall headfirst over the waterfall. I wouldn’t even try to swim. “I didn’t mean… I didn’t know that I was…I wasn’t looking. I mean…I wasn’t trying to. It’s just that you were… I wasn’t expecting... I’ve never…I promise I wasn’t…I didn’t mean…”

  “Stop talking!” he said, his voice sharp and irritated.

  My mouth snapped shut.

  “Move away so I can retrieve my clothes.”

  I bent down in haste and scooped up his breeches, tunic, and cloak, leaving his belt and boots on the ground. “Here,” I said, my voice trembling, looking the other way. I waited for him to take them. “Here,” I said once more when he hadn’t.

  “Put them down. Take five steps back and turn around.”

  “I’m handing them to you. Take them. I’m not looking.”

  “Put them down,” he snapped. “And take five steps back.”

  “But I–”

  “Now!”

  I dropped his clothes, counted my steps in retreat, and kept my back to him. I closed my eyes, hoping if I prayed hard enough someone up above would hear my pleas and let me disappear like smoke in the wind.

  I heard rustling of clothes and boots being pulled up and laced in angry grunts. A moment later, he said, “You may turn around.”

  I thought the least I could do was look him in the eye and try to offer my sincerest apology. Turning around, I hugged myself, allowing my eyes to travel up his body. He stood five feet away, stiff and menacing, fully clothed, though now his hood hid his face.

  It was then I realized who I’d been staring at.

  “Lord Lochlan?” I asked, fear now settling in.

  He was an outcast, despite his title. Everyone in the village was afraid of him. He walked among us but never with us. Stay away, they would say. Don’t go near him, they would whisper. He stayed hidden beneath his cloak and his face remained a mystery, shrouded by his hood.

  Until now.

  I had seen his face, looked into his eyes, and in a whisper that escaped my lips before I could call them back, I said, “You saved me.”

  “What?”

  I licked my dry lips and tried to keep my voice from trembling. “It was a long time ago.” I swallowed. I had been fifteen, over two summers ago. I had gone into the village for Mother to pick up supplies. I hadn’t been feeling well and was on my way home when I got dizzy and stumbled into someone.

  “Watch where yer going!” the man slurred and shoved me away and into another.

  “I’m sorry!” I said. “It was an accident.”

  “Ye hear that, William? She said it was an accident.” The first man, the one I’d bumped into, said with a hateful, unnatural tone, and then he shoved me into someone else.

  “I heard the chit,” another man with stink on his breath said before pushing me back to the first one.

  Before I knew what was happening, I was being jostled about between four or five men, the stench of alcohol thick on their breath, tossing me back and forth as though it was a game to them.

  “Stop!” I shouted. “Let me go!”

  They ignored my cries, pushing and shoving me from one man to the next while making snide comments and laughing.

  “LEAVE HER ALONE!” a booming voice demanded from somewhere behind me.

  I was tossed one last time before I fell to the ground. Tears leaked down my face and I was afraid to look up at any of them. I just wanted to go home. Keeping my head down, I could only see the shoes of the men who had been throwing me around. My bread was now smashed and trampled on the ground. A boot moved in my direction when one of the drunken men tried to lift me up. I shook him off.

  “Don’t touch me!” I felt another wave of tears, but I fought them and went to stand on my own.

  He backed away, holding his hands up in surrender. I had yet to see who had ordered them to stop, though judging by the fear on the men’s faces I didn’t want to. They all looked like they had soiled their breeches. Their eyes were wide, their bodies trembling.

  “Don’t ever touch her again! Or none of you will live to see another sunrise.” His voice was cold and promising and a shiver ran down my spine.

  All five men scuttled away like they were being chased by wolves. When I turned around to thank the man, he was gone.

  “Fie on thee!”

  I spun around once more in search of a new voice. This one belonged to a female. An old woman approached, shaking her fist in the direction the men had ran and again she shouted, “Fie on thee!” Her eyes locked on mine. “Are ya okay, child?”

  I looked down at what was once my favorite dress. It was simple but I had liked it. My mother had made it for me. Now it was torn at the shoulder and ripped at the side. I felt a fat tear roll down my cheek. I was covered in dirt and blood was dripping from my knees to my ankles.

  “I’m – I’m all right.”

  “Oh my,” the old lady said, pity in her eyes. She tucked my long brown hair behind my ears and began wiping at my face with one of her dress sleeves that was much too long for her arms.

  Her happiest memory began to play for me and I didn’t have the energy to keep it at bay.

  In her memory, the sound of a baby crying was heard just beyond a door, and she waited on the other side of it expectantly, pacing. Shortly after, a woman opened it and stepped out, holding a newborn baby wrapped securely in a blanket.

  Then the image became distorted before it morphed into another, foggy and unclear, and the old wom
an pulled away as if she’d been burned.

  “What is it?” I asked, alarmed.

  She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. In a low, husky voice, she said, “Tis nothing.”

  I looked around again and asked, “Did you happen to see the man who helped me?”

  Again, she tilted her head, and this time she studied me before answering. “That was Lord Lochlan of Mirova.” She wagged her finger at me. “Stay away from him, child.”

  “Why?” She turned to go, refusing to answer. “Why?” I asked again.

  She stopped, turning to look me in the eye. “Because he’s dangerous.”

  I swallowed again and tried to not be afraid. I was alone with a man I was told all my life to fear. Straightening my shoulders, I said, “I–I was attacked in the square by some men and…and…y-you appeared. Y-you scared them away. I never got the chance to thank you.”

  He didn’t speak for the longest time, although he made no attempt to leave. When he did speak, his voice was softer, less irritated. “What’s your name?”

  “Elin.”

  “Elin,” he repeated, whisper soft.

  He fell silent once more. I shifted on my feet and let my eyes fall to the ground. I saw something shiny and picked it up. A gold coin. Realizing it must have fallen out of his pocket, I went to hand it to him, taking a step in his direction.

  He flinched and reared back. “DON’T–” His words were cut off when he stumbled over a rock.

  I reached for him, hoping to catch his fall. I was about to grab hold of his arm when the white owl came streaking through the air like an arrow, screeching and flapping its wings against my face, angry and wild. I let out a screech of my own and covered my face and head with both hands. The owl, relentless in its attack, continued to flail its wings furiously. I lost my balance trying to fight off the wild creature, landing on my backside, hard. The owl gave up its assault and retreated, flying off as quickly as it’d arrived.

  Stunned and terrified, I clutched my chest. My heart was galloping like wild stallions underneath my palm.

  Lord Lochlan’s eyes were wide with fear when I looked up and saw him staring down at me. His breaths fell, quick and heavy. Panicked. Then his eyes turned hot and fiery as he commanded in a voice so deep, so powerful, so penetrating, it echoed off the forest floor, bounced up, and hit me square in the chest.

  “Don’t ever touch me. Ever.”

  And just like that, he was gone. One minute he was scorching me with his glare and in the next he–vanished–like a burnt-out star.

  Right before my eyes.

  I caught sight of the gold coin on the ground, the same gold coin I had tried to give back to Lord Lochlan, only this time I scowled at it. I must have dropped it in the mayhem that beast of an owl had caused.

  I tore my eyes away from the coin that sparkled under the sunlight and rose to my feet. I moved carefully to the water’s edge and met my reflection. Staring back at me were stormy gray orbs, flat and doleful. Dressed in dark clothes and a woebegone expression, I looked and felt crestfallen. Dispirited. White feathers clung loosely to my long, limp hair, and leaves were caught on my cloak. I stood in sharp contrast to the beauty and wonder all around me. I didn’t fit in this place bursting with kaleidoscopes of color, erupting with liveliness and energy. I was none of those things. At first, I’d found it all so beatific and wondrous, however, the longer I stood staring at my reflection, I was reminded of how I’d been humiliated and admonished, and I no longer felt the same sense of marvel.

  I plucked the feathers loose, brushed myself off, and moved away from the still water, done with the self-examination. Glancing down, I caught sight of the shiny gold coin once more, and this time I bent over to pick it up. Part of me wanted to toss it into the water, and part of me wanted to flick it like a pebble and watch it skip and hop across the flat aqua surface. I did neither. I put it inside my pocket, took a deep breath, and made my way out of the place I didn’t belong. The further I walked the more I thought about what had happened. Who did he think he was? Before I knew it, I was at the foot of the natural rock steps, staring up the steep hill. Not ready to go home, too angry still, I began the climb. At the top, the monastery came into view off in the distance. It sat along a cliff’s edge and overlooked the water below as well as a good portion of Mirova. I had been coming here each day after my chores were through, and each day before going inside I would take in the magnificence of the thick stone walls, the lush green landscape, and the overall opulent structure that had to be hundreds of years old. I couldn’t imagine the number of secrets these walls held. And I wanted to know them all.

  On my first visit, a kind monk wearing a tunic tied around the waist with a leather belt and a cowl over his head had shown me the way to the library. He’d walked alongside me, asking my name. I’d told him my name was Elin.

  “Monk Searly,” he’d greeted back. He took my hand, smiled, and continued walking with me. Peering at him through the corner of my eye, I was struck with one of his happiest memories. One when he was a boy.

  “What do you call a mosquito in a tin suit?”

  He was asking a man who had his back to him, but the man only mumbled something and that made his grin stretch wider.

  “I’m not going to stop until you answer. I will be a thorn in your side until the end of time, so you may as well play along. You know I never give up.”

  “You’re already a thorn in my side, Searly,” the man groused.

  “Then I shall be a bigger thorn. Now humor me. What do you call a mosquito in a tin suit?”

  The man was clearly perturbed, but he obviously knew the boy would keep poking the bear until he got what he wanted. Sighing, he relented, though still keeping his back to him. “I do not know.”

  Standing tall and beaming ear to ear, the young boy said, “A bite in shining armor.”

  I’d wanted to laugh out loud, although I somehow managed not to. Observing Monk Searly, I wondered what kind of trouble he must have gotten into as a child. Something about him seemed mischievous. Endearing, but mischievous. Eventually, I’d pushed his childhood memory aside and focused on why I’d come.

  He’d compiled a selection of books once I’d told him what I was interested in learning and left them for me on the table.

  “No need to place them back on the shelf,” he’d said. “No one ever comes in here anymore. You’re the first visitor we’ve had to our library in quite some time. We’ll leave them out for you, so you can come back any time and read as much as you like. Let me know if you need anything,” he’d said, and did a gentleman’s bow before leaving.

  After he’d left me alone, I’d felt small in the large, open space. I’d closed my eyes and breathed in the fragrance of the old worn books. The smell of incense perfumed the air and the wooden shelves smelled of musk and oak. I have come back many times and every time I have felt swallowed up by the beauty and the wealth of this room. Lit by lanterns along the perimeter, a pale, yellow light cast a warm glow. Coupled with the large windows on three of the walls, there was plenty of light for reading.

  I immediately sat down at the table and picked up one of the books I had started reading the day before and opened the cover. However, I was still too angry to read.

  “Who did he think he was?” I mumbled bitterly. “I was only trying to help him.” I flipped the page in a huff. “See if I try to help him again. Ha! I’ll let him fall on his rear end next time.”

  “Are you finished with your ire or shall I come back?”

  My eyes narrowed when I recognized the voice and the flames of my anger that licked at the surface grew higher and higher. Without turning around, I gritted my teeth. “Are you following me?”

  Speaking softly, Lord Lochlan said, “I’ll come back.”

  ‘NO!” I spun around in my chair; ready to tell him all the things that had been simmering in my belly, but when I turned there was no one there. “Disappearing again are we?” My pulse hummed a furious beat.


  “I would have thought you had already seen enough of me today,” Lord Lochlan said with humor in his tone.

  My cheeks flamed red. “Is that supposed to be funny?” I squinted, examining the room, looking extra hard in the dark corners of the library and finding no one. “Where are you?”

  “Why do you come here?” he asked, ignoring my questions.

  It was then I realized he was the one who had been here the day before. The one I’d heard. The one who had scared me with his disembodied laugh. I hadn’t imagined it. Carefully, I rose to my feet. “You are following me,” I accused. “Why?”

  A silence fell and loomed eerily. It swelled until it consumed every inch of the space. When the silence became too much, too loud, he said, “I’m not following you. I live here.”

  “In the library?”

  “No. Here…in the monastery.”

  I was confused. “You’re a monk?”

  “No.”

  Tilting my head, I asked the room, “Then why do you live here?”

  “It’s quiet.” Then he lobbed his question at me again. “Why do you come here?”

  I spread my arms out to my sides, thinking it should be obvious. “This is a library. I like to read.”

  Another looming silence fell. I remembered I was still mad. “You’re an arse,” I said.

  “I’m an arse?”

  “Yes,” I bit out, jutting my chin forward. “You’re also tense, evasive, aggressive, brusque, and demanding.”

  “Is that so?” He sounded amused.

  I ignored his tone and answered his question. “Yes.”

  “Today was–”

  “No, you ruined it for me.”

  “What did I ruin?”

  “Wonderland.” I waved my hand, slicing the air in front of me. “I don’t know what else to call it. The place with the waterfall. You ruined it for me. I can’t ever go back now. I’ll always associate you with it.” I realized how obstinate I was behaving, but I had no control over it. It was like the words poured out of me before I could catch them.