Chapter 13 Craving Truth

**Valerie**

“Oh no! Not again.” Mathilda flopped on the bed letting out a heavy sigh, “I hate sleeping under the same roof with chickens and lambs!”

I laughed at her long face, trying to cheer her up, “Come on, it’s not that bad Mattie. Lambs are adorable and you will love the sceneries there.”

“For god sake, Val” Mathilda rolled up her eyes listlessly, “I’m not an idiot. I’ve been there three times and I hated every single minute being there!”

I shrugged.

We were going to spend our summer vacation at grandparent’s cottage on the outskirts. It would be my first time visit there and I felt a bit anxious. I had never get a chance to see my grandparents, no maternal grandparents to be exact.

My paternal grandparents, as we were told so, died when dad was very young. They used to serve in the military and after their sudden death, dad was adopted by their general, Mr. Smith. Since then, dad had grown up among the soldiers. Being well-talented, at the age of 20, he became the youngest Major in the army.

It wasn’t dad who told us about his backstories. We heard it from grandpa later in his little house when his voice sounded thick for being a bit tipsy. He seemed to like dad a lot as his face turned to be even more florid as he started talking about his glorified son-in-law.

“I’m happy that young man married my daughter.” Grandpa said delightedly, “Your stupid mother had thought he didn’t like her. How could that be impossible?! Who would not fall in love with my beautiful daughter?” He laughed heartily.

What Grandpa said was very true. I wasn’t trying to make a brag but my mom was indeed the prettiest woman I’d ever seen.

It’s unfortunate for Mathilda and me that neither of us inherited her beauties. Mathilda, as it could easily be recognized, looked very much like dad. The same typically high cheek bonds and thin lips had always made them seemed aloof.

My look, unfortunately, didn’t resemble either mom or dad.

I had no blonde hair nor hazel eye like my mom. My cheek bonds were not protruding enough while my lips were small and pouty. I had violet rimmed eyes in the shape of almond that no one’s eyes in our family liked mine.

Dad told me that I got the characteristics from my paternal grandma. Though I had no ways to verify its authenticity now, I trusted him.

Dad never lied to me.

He had hardly mentioned anything about his life before we were born. I supposed it must have been a tough time for him living alone. Sometimes he said that it’s such a luck for someone liked him to have a happy family with two lovely daughters, and he would cherish us for the rest of his life.

I might be over sensitive but every time dad said something similar to this, I felt distraught. He wasn’t even 30 when he first mentioned “the rest of his life”. And the other thing that perhaps agitated both Mathilda and me was that we never knew what mom and dad did for feeding a family with two kids.

Their jobs remained a mystery to us.

All we knew was that mom and dad used to work for a private agency. On each summer, they would go on a long-term mission which made them away from out home for about 2-3 months. It’s also the reason why Mathilda and I usually had to leave the city on summers.

“Why can’t you bring us together this time? Like what you did two years ago? You brought Val to the beach!” Mathilda exclaimed, “We’re old enough to take care of ourselves now.”

“No we can’t Mattie Dear,” Mom couched down, her fingers brushing through Mathilda’s hair gently. “It’s a special mission. Very far away and could be dangerous.”

Then Mom held both Mathilda and me in her arms tightly. We heard she spoke with a dreamy voice, “I promise, this will be the last time for us being apart. I’ll never leave you again.”

Mom was right.

They hadn’t ever been on another mission since then, though the days didn’t become much better as we started to change our residences occasionally. I supposed it might be they getting quick job transfers. But we didn’t stop moving after the war breaking out 2 years later.

I forced myself to recall as much as I could, though it hurts to overthink about the moments I had spent with my family.

I had to find the truth.

If there were any injustice in their death, I’d risk my life for a clarification, but the more I tried to memorize, the more I got afraid.

And the kernel of my worries was the swear words from that disabled woman before auction.

*These scars should be credit to your family and it’s now your turn to suffer!*

I had not paid much attention to it because back then I had no idea what she might be referring to or misunderstanding about. It seemed to be reasonable for her being furious and resentful then if she did consider my parents as criminals.

And there must be something about her that was more specifically related to my parents. When she asked about my name, the answer clearly startled her. No one had the same reaction to my full name like hers.

If I wanted to dig out the truth behind it, the woman was the only clue I had now. I needed to find her.

But how?

I had been pondering on the questions since the talk with Samantha this morning. And now I lied on the bed with my head aching, too frustrated to get some sleep.

The entire building was slumbering in silence. I exhaled heavily before venturing out into the corridor. With only a few lights glinting on the wall, I took off my shoes and grabbed them in hands while tiptoeing through the hallway and climbed up to third-floor.

I supposed it was safe to sneak out tonight as Samantha had told me that the masters would not come until a night before celebration.

The old wooden stair was creaking lightly as I stepped slowly, trying not to make a fuss

I put on the shoes after stepping onto the terrace, leaving the door ajar to stay on the alert. As I took a deep breath, the cool night winds blew softly on my cheeks, bring fresh airs to ease my nerve.

It was then I heard a noise coming from the railing. It was very low like someone was lowering his voice to talk something secretly to another.

I walked closer trying to identify the speakers. Under the help of winds, I heard it clearly this time. They were two male servants whom I had never talked to but I had listen to them bossing slaves around on their duties for the whole time.

“God can you stay quiet!” One of them sounded annoyed with a coarse voice

“It’s the damn drawer got stuck.” The other argued.

“You idiot!”

It was followed with a scraping noise of busing and dragging repeatedly.

“Stop it! For god sake, we better try it another time!” The man with coarse voice said, “I suppose the noise had just brought some attention. Shush! Wait and listen.”

After a short silence, the other man said, “No one’s there. Don’t fuss about it.”

“We must fail, you understand?” the raspy-voiced man was serious.

His accomplice didn’t reply but raised another question in a while, “do you really think they hide *it* here? That sounds insane.”

“Better to believe. It’s our only chance to *destroy* the Red Moon Pack.”

My eyes widened in shock for what I just heard.

I took a few steps back trying to steady the stumble.

But before I was able to take a gasp, a large palm cupped over my mouth as my back bumped onto a broad chest.

A pungent masculine scent of smoke and cologne engulfed me.