The Fifth Moon's Assassin (The Fifth Moon's Tales Book 5)

by Monica La Porta

  “High Lord,” a man said. “Please, take a seat.”

  Dragon recognized the command masked as politeness and didn’t move, asserting his authority. He remained where he stood until his eyes adjusted to the low level of illumination in the room.

  After a moment, he saw the man sitting on a chaise lounge on top of a tall dais at the end of the room. On the platform, there were two oval braziers filled with smoldering embers the man doused with a ladle of water. A moment later, white steam enfolded the room.

  “I am Master Eon.” The man waved a hand, pointing at the lonely stool several meters away from the dais. “You asked to talk to us,” the man said. “Our time is limited, and my sauna break is almost at the end.”

  Dragon drew a sigh of relief. He had feared the negotiation with the Academy would take forever. “I’m here to buy my life and the life of the first assassin sent after me,” he said, walking past the stool. He stopped a few steps from the dais, where his great stature allowed him to look directly into the man’s eyes.

  “And what makes you think the Academy would consider your plea?” the man asked. His face was expressionless, and he remained so utterly still he didn’t even seem to breathe.

  “I’m not here to beg,” Dragon said. “Mine is a business transaction.”

  “Is it now?” The man’s mouth curved up into a sneer.

  “Someone hired you to kill me. I’ll pay you double what they offered to rescind the contract.”

  “It isn’t that simple,” the man commented.

  “Three times the amount.” Dragon never lowered his gaze.

  “Would you pay six times that?”

  Dragon nodded.

  “Without even knowing the original amount.”

  “I’m rather fond of myself,” Dragon said, knowing that the man was playing with him.

  “And you’d pay for the assassin who failed to kill you.”

  Dragon tilted his head in assent but otherwise kept silent.

  “Why is that?” the man asked.

  “She’s my soulmate,” Dragon answered. He didn’t see the point in lying.

  Master Eon frowned. A brief emotion passed across his stony face, but it was soon gone. He leaned against the back of the chaise lounge and simply stared at Dragon who endured the scrutiny without moving a muscle.

  Time stretched as their eyes remained locked in a game of who would lower his gaze first. The air around Dragon grew warmer. The scent from the burnt incenses was too sweet. The room closed in on him, the weight of the whole world pressing against Dragon’s chest, but he didn’t move.

  Finally, Master Eon said, “The Academy doesn’t accept your offer.”

  “What do you want instead of money?” Dragon asked.

  “The contract with our employer stands,” Master Eon said. “We promised a death, and a death we’ll deliver. You die, but if you’re willing to pay ten times what they offered us to kill you, the assassin’s life will be spared.” The man raised his brow in a challenge. “Final offer.”

  “I accept,” Dragon said.

  34

  Her target was the Academy’s guest.

  The revelation startled Jade, who raised her eyes and met the driver’s gaze through the rearview mirror.

  “You are her!” The man’s eyes widened in recognition.

  She gave him a puzzled look as her mind ran in a hundred different directions at once. Why was the Solarian High Lord visiting the Academy? He was still a target, wasn’t he? Why would he want to talk to Master Eon? Was he here because of her?

  “You are the Master Assassin he’s trying to save,” the driver said.

  For the second time, the man’s words surprised Jade. “What?”

  “You are a bit of a legend, you know?” In his excitement, the man forgot to keep his voice low. A slight pressure of her blade was reminder enough, and he added with a whisper, “Dragon Sol is refusing to marry his betrotheds and has been combing the galaxy for you.” He paused, then shook his head and was nicked by the sharp edge of the dagger, but he didn’t seem to mind. “The entire Fifth Moon System talks about the assassin who was sent to kill the dragon shifter and enslaved his heart instead. There are already ballads circulating about you two.”

  Jade lowered her hand, but kept the blade close to his throat. “What is the High Lord doing here?”

  “He wants to talk the Academy out of killing him and you.”

  “How?”

  “By paying an obscene amount of money.” The man turned, facing her. “I mean, a High Lord and a Master Assassin don’t come cheap.”

  Jade’s mind reeled with the information. The man she had tried to kill would go out of his way to save her life. Why? Her hand went to her stomach. Butterfly wings flapped against her ribcage. Beside the obvious, what had happened between them?

  She needed to make a decision: stay in the aircar and wait for the shifter to come back, or find another way out.

  “You were here all along?” the man asked, oblivious to her turmoil and seemingly unconcerned for his life.

  Jade tried to corral her confused thoughts toward a feasible escape plan. She could only tackle one enemy at a time, and leaving the Academy was her priority. “Where are you going to take the High Lord when he’s done here?” she asked.

  “Back to Paradisia,” the driver said.

  It made sense. The man was a vampire, and the undead on Celestia worked for House Martelli.

  One of the hatches on the other side of the hangar opened, simplifying Jade’s choices to the only one that kept her undetected for the time being.

  She dropped under the seat and flattened against the floor. “I’ll kill you if—”

  Loud steps approached the vehicle.

  The man whispered to her, “No worries,” before he said out loud, “Is the High Lord coming back soon?”

  “You,” a woman said. “Get ready to leave.”

  Jade recognized the girl’s young voice; it belonged to one of the recruits from the last class.

  “I was told to wait for the High Lord.”

  “The High Lord is staying,” the girl said. “You know the drill.”

  “I’ll be out of your way as soon as you open the tunnel for me,” the driver said.

  The recruit’s boots tapped the granite slabs of the hangar as she walked toward the control panel located a few steps from the aircar-taxi—too close for comfort.

  “Something’s wrong,” the driver whispered.

  “You think.” Jade had a good idea of what was happening. Had the Academy accepted the High Lord’s payment, he would be coming back now.

  “Your master’s guest is as good as dead,” Jade whispered back. She should have felt detached, but for some reason, the demise of a man she couldn’t remember pained her.

  A loud, sucking noise announced the tunnel’s hatch was opening.

  “I can’t leave him here,” the driver said over the ruckus.

  “Yes, you can,” Jade said. “Don’t do anything stupid, or we’re both dead.”

  To her relief, the man lowered the engine lever and started driving the aircar.

  Jade knew the recruit would be waiting for the vehicle to enter the tunnel before manually locking them out of the hangar. There was no sneaking out without being caught.

  At the tunnel’s entrance, the driver hesitated.

  “Drive,” Jade hissed. “I have a plan.”

  “I’m Laonte,” the man said. “If you keep ordering me around, at least use my name.”

  “Shut your mouth and keep driving.” Jade snaked her arm around the seat and pressed the blade against his thigh. “Laonte.”

  “Stop!” The girl commanded, and Jade’s heart sank as she shriveled back down, lying flat against the bottom of the aircar once again.

  “Keep going,” Jade said.

  Laonte followed her command and crossed into the tunnel.

  “Stop, I said!” the girl screamed, the sound of stomping boots echoing loud.

 
; “Slow down,” Jade instructed Laonte. Bringing forth her memories of the place, she asked, “What’s on your right?”

  “There’s a small hatch door.”

  “Stop,” Jade said. “As she reaches us, lower your window and open the opposite passenger door at the same time.”

  A moment later, the girl slammed her hand against the glass panel. “Are you deaf?”

  Laonte promptly hit the buttons that opened his window and the passenger door that started sliding in its hinges. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

  As soon as there was enough space, Jade wormed her way out and tapped the floor to let Laonte know she was safe.

  “What are you doing?” the girl asked as Jade crouched on the aircar’s running board, from which the lateral wings would come out in flight.

  “Fat fingers. I smashed two buttons at once,” Laonte said, closing the passenger door and his window as well. “See, I’m clumsy.” He lowered the glass panel again. “Do you have new orders for me?”

  “I was just told to check every vehicle going out,” the girl answered.

  “For what?” Laonte asked.

  “Not your business. Open the back door.”

  The hiss of the sliding panel followed her request.

  “What are you looking for?” Laonte’s voice sounded frustrated.

  The girl didn’t answer his question, but the aircar suddenly dropped, and her booted steps stomped the metal floor of the vehicle.

  A moment later, the aircar rose a few centimeters, and the girl announced, “You can go.”

  Laonte turned on the engine and let the aircar float away slowly. To avoid being seen, Jade moved from the side and scuttled on the running board until she was hiding beneath the vehicle’s pointed nose.

  As soon as the tunnel’s main hatch closed behind them, Laonte reversed and drove back to the lateral exit.

  Jade couldn’t help but admire the man’s quick thinking. When he stopped, she stood and mouthed her thanks before jumping from the running board onto the tunnel’s narrow service platform.

  “What are you going to do now?” Laonte asked after lowering the passenger window.

  “I’ll go back inside to see what I can do for the High Lord,” Jade answered.

  She had made the decision without thinking, and a plan formed right away.

  “I knew it,” Laonte said, his eyes twinkling. “It’s all true—”

  “Go, before they realize you’re lingering too long.” She waved for him to move.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “I know my way around.” Without waiting for him to comply, she turned and opened the small service door. She entered the narrow passageway and closed the panel.

  Once again, darkness surrounded her.

  35

  “Do I have your word that Jade lives?” Dragon asked Master Eon.

  “I am the Academy,” the man said. “My word is law—”

  “Master Eon,” a man interrupted their conversation.

  Dragon hadn’t heard the door opening.

  “What is it?” Master Eon asked, nodding for the newcomer to approach the dais.

  The man, a young assassin barely out of his teenage years, hurried toward the platform, kneeled in front of it, and rose when Master Eon impatiently waved his hand for him to stand. Fumbling on his way up, the assassin stepped on the dais and whispered a few frantic words in the master’s ear.

  She’s escaped, Dragon heard with his enhanced ears.

  Master Eon’s face darkened, fury soon marrying his stark features. He turned and pulled a tassel hanging from the wall. A portion of the same wall slid open, and several assassins burst onto the dais.

  “Take him to the dungeon,” he ordered the men, who immediately fanned out, short, split-ended daggers at the ready.

  Four assassins seized Dragon, while the rest of them, at least a dozen people, surrounded him. He stood taller than the tallest of the gang by several centimeters and raised his brow in contempt.

  “Really?” With nothing more than a shrug, Dragon dislodged the hands grabbing his arms. “I’ll follow,” he said.

  One of the men, the one who looked like the oldest of the lot, cut his eyes to Master Eon and received a curt nod to proceed. “You and you stay with me,” he said, pointing at the two assassins standing closer to the dais.

  Surrounded by a small army, Dragon exited the room and reentered the cold hallway. The men moved at a fast pace through the endless turns of the marble corridors that extended for hundreds of meters without as much as a single identifying detail. Metal doors opened into the corridors at regular intervals, the panels as plain and unadorned as the walls.

  Without his internal compass, Dragon would have immediately lost track of the direction they were going. Although nothing suggested otherwise, he knew they were descending, which meant the incline was gradual and that the hallways were built to give the illusion that the floors were flat when in fact they were not. The whole structure was like a gigantic downward spiral. Since exiting the hangar, he had been slowly plunging toward the bottom of the Citadel.

  Nervous energy radiated from the assassins escorting him. Finally, the one who had taken the lead stopped before yet another metal door and barked, “Open.”

  The panel slid on a well-oiled track instead of swinging on its hinges, revealing a small corridor with a low ceiling and walls too close to each other. The man at Dragon’s side made to push him but promptly stepped aside when Dragon gave him a cold stare.

  Repressing a groan, Dragon crossed the threshold and entered the claustrophobic space which became narrower a few steps in. Soon, the illumination dimmed, and the temperature decreased until the sweat on Dragon’s skin became frost. The men shivered, but nobody complained.

  Minutes later, the leader took a turn into a secondary and equally bottlenecked corridor that ended at a grated gate. The gate opened when the man stepped in front of it and leaned his face close to a plaque on the right column. Everyone got in, and the gate closed after the last one in the queue crossed its threshold.

  “Walk in,” the leader said, motioning for Dragon to step forward.

  When the man in front of him moved to let him pass, Dragon saw the leader opening a low door that barely reached the man’s chest.

  The assassin turned and made a mock flourish. “Home sweet home,” he said, making a gesture for him to duck.

  By now, Dragon had gathered enough information about the place and didn’t need the guided tour any longer.

  He struck the two men closest to him at once, and kicked a third, thrusting his leg backward with enough strength to create a domino effect and shove the fourth and fifth man behind against the rest.

  Chaos ensued. The daggers came out, but in the narrow space, arms couldn’t freely extend to thrust, whereas Dragon’s brute force and sheer size gave him a distinctive advantage. He was still hit several times, though. The double blades resembling a snake’s bifurcated tongue cut through the fabric of his clothes, reaching his skin beneath.

  The scent of his spilled blood awakened his dragon and sent Dragon into a battle frenzy. He hadn’t had a closed combat in a long time and relished the opportunity to release all his pent-up energy. His body reacted to the incoming threats without him having to think about his next move. Punches and kicks flew all around as he mowed down the enemies, who lunged at him with all their might.

  One dagger speared Dragon’s side. He chopped down blindly to stop the twisting motion stretching the wound. Someone screamed, and the pressure on the blade lessened, but its sharp points remained embedded under Dragon’s ribs.

  More stilettos were thrust at him. Dragon turned on his heels, using his arms like shields, smashing assassins against each other as they came at him, sometimes two or three at a time. Covered in blood, he used his fists to cripple the ones left standing, and his boots to keep the ones crawling on the now-slick floor from rising.

  A few minutes later, the leader was the only one remaini
ng on his feet.

  “Stay put,” Dragon told him as he threw the unconscious assassins into the pit they had meant for him to inhabit.

  The leader eyed the pile of bodies forming on the cell’s floor as if he were pondering which route to take. His eyes briefly cut toward the gate that led back into the corridor.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Dragon warned him.

  The assassin charged, swinging his blade in a fast motion as he aimed for Dragon’s throat. The man’s skills would have taken any mortal by surprise, but not a dragon shifter. Only amaranthine poison would have slowed Dragon down long enough for an enemy to be able to deal the fatal stroke. Fortunately for him, Master Eon’s guards had not come prepared.

  Dragon stopped the dagger with his hands before jerking the weapon away.

  With disbelief in his eyes, the assassin looked at the blood coating the dagger now pointed at him.

  Dragon one-handedly grabbed him by the collar of his vest before shoving him against the rough wall. “Open the gate,” he ordered, pressing the sharp edge of the blade against the assassin’s throat.

  “I’ll do it,” the man said.

  One could always count on an assassin to do the practical thing.

  Without releasing the man, Dragon lowered him so that his feet touched the floor.

  The assassin cut a glance toward the gate. “I need to stand in front of it to activate the eye-scan,” he said, confirming Dragon’s suspicion about the plaque on the column.

  Dragon pushed him around. “Go ahead.” He held the man by his shoulder, the dagger touching his neck as a silent reminder as he walked both of them to the gate.

  The assassin stood in front of the column and raised his chin, facing the square plaque. He hesitated, but when Dragon pressed the blade, he leaned until his right eye aligned with the center of the scan. The gate opened right away.

  Dragon grabbed the man and jerked him toward the cell where the rest of his crew lay. He clocked the man unconscious before shoving him inside and slammed the door, locking it.