Gilded Moon: Midnight, Masks, and Mirrors: Moonfell Witches Book 3 (PAPERBACK)

Chapter One
“I knew they were here!” Odette muttered as she threw open the lid of the battered wooden chest to reveal a jumbled pile of ornately decorated face masks designed for masquerade balls.

The scent of dust and secrets bloomed, and she shivered with excitement as she stroked a feathered mask and immediately had a vision of candlelight and heard the clinking of glasses and laughter.

Seemingly oblivious to her experience, Como asked, “We’re seriously going to wear those?” He picked one up and examined it in the sunshine streaming through the attic window.

“Of course we are! It’s time for midsummer madness.” Odette saw it unfolding. A midsummer night under the stars, golden lights around the garden, laughter and magic spreading through Moonfell.

Odette and Como were in a small room at the end of a narrow, winding passage in the attic. The window sat above them, allowing glimpses of a bright blue sky beyond, and the room was hot and stuffy, the heat of the day already building.

Spotting an old fan amongst the decorative masks, Odette picked it up and fanned her face. “I smell roses. Delicious!”

“And mothballs,” Como said dryly. He fitted a Venetian style half-mask over his eyes and upper face and immediately sneezed. “By the gods, this thing is dusty!”

“But you look fantastic!” It was embellished with gold and silver thread and ruby-red feathers that complimented his tanned skin and dark hair. “It makes you look very mysterious, too. This will be so much fun! Check the mirror.”

Como strode to the old wooden mirror hanging crookedly on the wall between the beams. “I think it’s a little ostentatious for me. Maybe something simpler?”

Odette started pulling out the masks, arranging them around her. “Domino masks, full face white masks—I think they’re called voltos—and very elaborate ones.”

The masks were a rich combination of gold and silver trims, feathers, paint, crystals, lace, and ribbons, and there were plenty of small black domino masks among them, too, that were meant to be worn with a hooded cloak.

Odette rocked back on her heels and looked around. “We might even find the capes that go with the masks.”

It was the day before midsummer eve when they were having their party for family and friends, and she, Birdie, and Morgana were rushing to finalise their plans after needing to help the shifters hunt the mysterious creature that had stolen Maverick’s wolf only the week before. Fortunately, Giacomo and Lamorak had arrived the previous day, exams over, and eager to embrace life at Moonfell. Horty was due later that day, and her father, Ellington, her sister Giselle, Uncle Armstrong, her cousin Merlin and his girls, and maybe even her aunt Simone and cousin Phoebe were arriving the following day. Moonfell would be busy, especially with the younger generation. If Pheobe came, that would mean Samuel, her five-year old nephew, would be there, too.

“Bloody hell, Como,” she said, suddenly exhausted by even the thought of it, “this place will be heaving!”

“With domino capes?” he asked, confused.

“Sorry. I was thinking about the amount of family that are turning up.”

“At least there’s plenty of space to spread out. And they’ll go home once it’s done, but we,” he said smugly, “will stay. Are the shifters coming to the party?”

“They’ve been invited and are definitely coming, so have Maggie and Harlan, as well as Nahum and Olivia, but it depends what else they have on.” She rose to her feet and dusted off her knees. “No staring at the naked female shifters, please!”

“I don’t stare!”

“You do. It’s not cool.”

“Well, they’re hot, and I’m red-blooded.”

“Which is no excuse! Exercise some self-control, or Cecile might turn feral on you.” Which would be hilarious to see, but probably best averted. “Come on, let’s see if we can find the capes.”

They turned their attention to the other chests and large cupboards, but like any task in the attic, it was hard to stay focussed. So many other objects competed for attention. Especially in this room that contained old shoes and boots from a large span of years. Unfortunately, many were damaged, the leather brittle, and although it was nice to keep them, it was impossible to wear them.

“Bags!” Odette proclaimed, as she opened a large cupboard wedged into a gap between joists. Like the masks, they were jumbled together, and were dressy handbags, intended for parties, not shopping. “Beautiful ones with sequins and feathers and beads.”

“I thought all of the clothes were in the main attic.”

“They are. These are accessories. You know, I wasn’t going to dress up fully, just use the mask, but now I’m thinking that I might! Not full-on fancy dress, but at least something more interesting than my usual jeans.”

“Is that because a certain someone might be coming?”

“Who do you mean by that?” Odette asked, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Arlo, of course! You do your own bit of staring when he’s around.”

“We have a complicated relationship.”

Como snorted. “No, you don’t. You just pretend you do, for some weird reason.”

She ignored that jibe, mainly because it brought up uncomfortable thoughts she didn’t want to face. “He sees me in jeans plenty of times, and doesn’t care what I wear. No, I’m dressing up because it feels right. We’re having a party! The biggest we’ve had in ages. I love midsummer. The light is beautiful, and the days seem to last forever.”

The glint of glass beads on a pale blue, silk pocket-purse caught her eye, and she eased it out of the pile. Again, images struck her. A flash of firelight. The glow of hundreds of candles. The sound of music. But more than that, the feeling of tension. Of a threat.

She must have betrayed what she felt, because Como asked, “What’s the matter?”

“I feel something from this stuff. Not unusual for me, of course, but this makes me feel uneasy.”

She opened the bag carefully, and found a face mask that matched the décor of the purse. Venetian in style, painted, and edged with feathers and lace. It was spectacular. Underneath that was a laced-edged handkerchief wrapped around peculiar object made of tarnished silver—two linked crescent moons that looked like horns mounted by a four-pointed star. As soon as she touched it, she heard muttered voices that reeked of subterfuge.

Something that did not feel as if it belonged in Moonfell at all.

***
Morgana led Lamorak down the stairs into the cellars that ran under Moonfell’s bulk, flicking the lights on to illuminate the large space under the main kitchen that was lined with racks of shelving.

“Here we are! All of our surplus kitchenware. Some of this is probably quite valuable.”

Lam gasped. “I should say so! Is that silver?” He headed to a glittering pile of platters and bowls stacked up in an orderly fashion.

“Some of it, yes. But some is silver gilt, and others just chrome. However, it all needs to keep dry down here, so that's why it’s dehumidified now.” She pointed out the control system on the wall. “Your great-grandfather had it all installed years ago. We used to rely on spells before then. This is much more sensible. Good for the wine, too!”

Lam turned, perking up. “We have a wine cellar?”

“Of course we do! We have had many ardent collectors in this family over the years.” She pointed through the arch to the right, and flicked on another light, illuminating more racks, this time containing hundreds of bottles of wine. “They’re all through there. Many are very old, laid down years ago, but some are newer. Your great-grandfather, Cosworth, had a passion for wine. A real interest in it. I just like drinking it!” She grinned at her son, glad to have him back in Moonfell, and to be showing him more of the place that was to be his home for hopefully years to come. “Your great uncle Ellington is also a collector, but he keeps his in his own house. I’m sure he would teach you about it, if you’re interested. He’s always telling us what a distinguished palate he has. Much to Birdie’s annoyance.” And her own, if she was honest. Ellington was quite the snob.

Lam shook his head. “I love that we have it, but I’m not a connoisseur. Como might be interested, though.”

Morgana nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll ask him. It would be good to have someone take charge of stocking up our supplies. We do restock, of course, but a curated collection would be lovely. While we’re down here, we should choose a selection for the party. I’m sure Uncle Ellington will add to it when he arrives.” She turned her attention to the piles of silverware and glazed dishes. “What we actually need, though, is a large bowl for the punch. Maybe some platters, too.”

The three resident witches had made a list of food for the party, and were aiming to keep it simple. Platters of finger food, sweet treats, and copious drinks. Although, with the time rapidly approaching, Morgana thought that preparing as much as possible beforehand would be a good thing. The family would help, as would Monroe, her shifter boyfriend. Just thinking about him gave Morgana a glow.

“What type of punch?” Lam asked, starting to unstack the teetering piles and placing them out on the floor.

“Something strong. Gin-based, probably. Fruity. I have something in mind.”

“Something magical?”

“Not laced with anything dodgy, if that’s what you mean.”

“Just herbs or spices, then.”

“Exactly. Besides, everything I make is magical. It’s called Midsummer Mischief.”

Lam sniggered. “That sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“A recipe for fun. Honestly, it’s been years since we decided to have a big, summer party. Yule is always potent because of the protection spells, but this is just about celebrating the solstice in proper Moonfell style. I think the last time we had one this big was when I was a teenager. After Cosworth died, Birdie lost her enthusiasm. Shame really, but understandable. And then she got old, and it didn’t seem right.”

“I wish I’d met him.”

“You’d have loved him. He was such a force of life, just like Birdie. Loved jazz and blues, wines and whiskey, and was an absolute supporter of all things Birdie.” Morgana was lost in her memories for a moment. Cosworth wasn’t a witch, but he had fit right in at Moonfell. “It was such a shock when he died. Massive stroke. Lost him far too young. Birdie was devastated. Well, we all were. The house included.” Lam looked startled at that comment, and she tried to clarify. “Moonfell needs the non-magical, as well as witches. It all adds to the mix. Feeds into the energy of the place. We lost a little something when Cosworth went, and I think we’re only just starting to get it back. Horty thinks it’s celebrating five hundred years of Moonfell that’s set our recent interesting events off, and she might be right, but I think it’s a few things—and that includes you and Como arriving. Anyway,” she shook off her sudden sadness, “onwards. Anything decent in that pile?”

She was drawn to the colourful pottery rather than the shining metals, but Lam was tackling it with great excitement, and as he pulled an enormous bowl free, he sent platters clanging to the floor.

“Shit! Sorry. What about this one?” He flourished a large, deep bowl that measured a good foot across. “I think it actually is a punch bowl. Look!” He grabbed a matching ladle from the pile at his feet.

The bowl was shining silver and decorated with a variety of fruits and foliage, including grapes that tumbled down the sides, and it had six elegant feet to rest on. As Morgana peered into it, her reflection softened and she looked suddenly younger, as if a bloom of starlight was behind her rather than the electric bulbs. A shadow shifted behind her and she turned, wondering if someone else was in the cellar, but no one was. It was just Moonfell, playing tricks.

“That’s perfect, Lam.”

He smiled, pleased to have helped. “And the platters match.”

“Great. We’ll take them all up. I’ll take some of the pottery ones, too. We’ll need loads of them. They’ll look amazing spread across the tables outside.”

He placed the bowl on a table by the stairs that led back to the ground floor, and then shook his head as if in disbelief at what he was seeing. “How far do these cellars go?”

“Right under the house. This is the cleanest part, though. It’s far dustier and darker beyond the wine cellar. A bit creepy, if I’m honest. But,” she smiled, feeling mischievous, “there are doors to hidden passages down here. They run between the walls.” She’d found many of them as a young teenager, but wasn’t about to tell Lam where they were. Finding them for yourself was part of the fun. Plus, she liked to keep some secret, like the passage on the first floor that led to the mezzanine level in the library.

“Seriously?” His eyes widened in disbelief and excitement. “Can we explore them? Como would love to see them!”

“Of course. Maybe your cousins would, too. But I suggest you bring torches and let us know before you come down here. I’d hate for you to get lost.”

“We won’t.” He darted towards the wine cellar. “I’ll have a quick look before we go.”

Relieved that he was finding Moonfell exciting, she picked up some of the matching silver platters and carried them to the table by the door. Surprised by their weight, she hefted one up and turned it around to see if there was a date on it, but as she did, another flash of shadow and light played in her reflection, and something loomed close. She spun around, breath catching, but no one was there.

Not in this time, anyway.