Moth to Her Flame (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

R iven

The glowing crystals embedded in our mountain hideout’s walls cast shifting shadows as Nocturna’s voice fills our grand hall. Her midnight broadcast echoes off ancient stone walls, mixing with the gentle splash of our internal waterfall.

“Remember, listeners: the truth isn’t just out there—it’s way out there.”

“Someone’s got it bad,” Volt rumbles from his favorite overstuffed loveseat as his golden feathers shine in the light from the fireplace. Static electricity crackles around the Thunderbird, charging the air with its power. “Your antennae haven’t stopped twitching since her show started.”

Forcing my antennae still, I pretend to adjust our salvaged radio equipment. “Just figuring out how to fine-tune the reception.”

“Right.” The wattage of Volt’s knowing smirk could power the entire mountain. “That’s why you’ve repositioned our main antenna three times this month for ‘optimal signal clarity.’”

A chunk of jerky sails past my head toward the Thunderbird.

“Leave him alone,” Cliff calls, rattling the bag of jerky as though he’s going to lob another piece at Volt. The Sasquatch is leaning forward in a huge La-Z-Boy that he rummaged from the dump. It’s in his favorite spot by the fire. We’ve had our tussles in the past, but I soon learned not to get in physical spats with the seven-foot-tall, russet-haired male. “Not his fault he’s got a thing for radio girls with husky voices and lots of attitude.”

“I do not—” The protest dies in my throat as Nocturna laughs at something a caller said. The sound slides through me like moonlight through mist.

“Dude.” Dante, a Jersey Devil, looks up from the ancient tome he’s reading, curved horns gleaming in the crystal light. “You literally stopped mid-sentence to listen to her laugh.” His skin shifts in color from deep crimson to obsidian, while his sinuous tail remains motionless.

Adjusting the medical brace that keeps his injured wing immobile, Dante adds, “Besides, some of us are temporarily grounded and have nothing better to do than notice your obvious pining.” The reminder of his injury, courtesy of a local wolf pack, brings a momentary tension to the room before his typical sardonic grin returns. “At least it’s given me plenty of time to upgrade our security systems.”

Our home, carved deep into the mountain by generations of cryptids before us, usually feels like a sanctuary. Tonight, with everyone’s eyes on me, the grand hall seems smaller. The circular stone table we’re gathered around still bears the etchings of those who came before—creatures of myth and mystery who found refuge here for one reason or another.

“You know what I don’t get?” Dante continues, marking his place in the book. “With all our tech, why haven’t you just looked her up? Found out where she broadcasts from?”

I shift my position restlessly as I pin my wings tighter to my back. They don’t know I already have. Don’t know I’ve seen her cabin, nestled against a mountainside like a beacon for the strange and mysterious. They have no idea I’ve watched her step onto her porch on sleepless late nights after her show as I watched her waves of red hair catching starlight as she stared into the darkness. I feel a jolt as if she’s only a few feet away from me, looking into the heavens as though she’s daring it to reveal its secrets.

“Why would I want to look her up?” I manage to sound calm, though my racing pulse says otherwise. “Her show’s just… interesting.” I manage a nonchalant shrug.

“Interesting?” Volt’s laugh sounds like distant, rumbling thunder. “Is that why you’ve recently been carving a figure of a curvy human woman every time you have a spare moment?”

Heat creeps up my neck. The small wooden carving sits on my shelf, along with other pieces I’ve made during late-night carving sessions. Art helps quiet my mind when I can’t sleep.

“Shh!” Cliff holds up one massive hand, his prominent brow furrowing. “Something’s different tonight.”

We all lean in as a caller describes men in suits with high-tech equipment. The atmosphere shifts, playful teasing replaced by focused attention.

“A maze inside a circle?” Dante sits up straighter. “That’s Apex Evolution Technologies.”

“What kind of company is that?” The hair on the back of my neck rises, instincts warning of danger.

“Some shadowy biotech contractor. Before my run-in with that pack of wolves grounded me,” Dante’s expression darkens, “I did some fly-bys at their facility up near Starfire Peak. Overheard their security talking about ‘acquisition targets’ and ‘power harvesting.’ Maybe I’m paranoid, but if I had to guess, I’d think they’re looking for us—cryptids.”

“If you believe what that last caller said, they’re looking for Nocturna, too,” Cliff adds quietly. The Sasquatch inclines his head toward the big speaker near the fireplace.

“Half her shows are about cryptids,” says Dante, his horns gleaming in the flickering light. “If they’re hunting us, who better to investigate than someone who sounds as though she has inside info about us? Especially with her history of outing one of Cliff’s uncles. If I were them and didn’t mind ruffling some feathers—no offense, Volt—I’d interrogate her.”

I stand, my wings snapping open with agitation as my heart thunders. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? We have to protect her!”

“Just heard it today. Was gonna bring it up, but I got distracted by your love life.”

The sound of her voice flows through our sanctuary, discussing out-of-body experiences and astral projection. Each word twists something deeper in my chest. She’s out there alone, unprotected, while somewhere corporate hunters are plotting… I’m not sure what, but it can’t be good.

“Don’t even think about it,” Volt warns, as he reads my expression. “You can’t just fly to her place and introduce yourself. You’re a Mothman, for fuck’s sake. Besides,” he gives me a knowing look, “you said you didn’t know where she lives.”

“So busted, bro,” Dante says. He must have been paying more attention to us than the book he’s pretending to read. “You’ve been watching her? Not cool.”

“N-not watching her,” I insist. “Watching over her. She’s already lost everything once for telling the truth about the Sasquatch she saw.” I give Cliff a pointed stare, as though he’s the culprit. Pacing the cool stone floor, I can’t keep the edge from my voice. “She deserves to know what’s coming.”

“Riven.” Volt’s voice gentles. “You don’t even know her.”

But I do. I know she likes to sit on her porch and drink coffee around three in the afternoon when she wakes up. I know one of her favorite ambient songs is “Darkstar” by John Carpenter; she plays it more than almost any other music. I know she keeps a gun in her desk drawer but prefers words as weapons.

And I know she might shoot me on sight.

“I could tell by her tone of voice. She’s not taking the threat seriously. I have to warn her.” My antennae twitch. “She deserves that much.”

“She’ll panic,” Dante warns. “Humans usually do when they see us. Volt’s humongous, and when his feathers ruffle with electricity, mere mortals cringe. Cliff is terrifying for other, shaggier reasons. Me? Between my horns and devilish tail, I doubt anyone thinks I’m a nice guy. And you…” He lets the sentence drop because he doesn’t have to describe me. I know that between my yellow eyes, painted wings, and moth-like hair, I’m not exactly Hollywood material.

“Not her. She won’t panic.” The certainty in my voice surprises even me. “She talks about cryptids all the time. She’d be cool with it.”

“Because you’re half in love with her voice?” Cliff’s tone is gentle despite the accusation in his words.

“Because she chose truth over safety once before.” My muscles tense, body coiled for action. “She deserves the chance to make that choice again.”

Volt sighs, electricity crackling around him. “At least wait until tomorrow. Plan it out. Don’t just—”

“Every minute we wait is another minute she’s vulnerable.” The thought of those corporate vultures circling closer while she sits unaware in that isolated cabin makes my antennae twitch. “I won’t risk her safety because I’m afraid of her reaction.”

The others exchange looks. They know that tone. It’s the same one I used when I found Dante wounded in a hunter’s trap, when I led Volt to that downed plane so he could help me drag the crash victims to safety while they were still unconscious.

“Fine.” Volt rises, impressive wingspan casting large shadows on the cavern’s walls. “But if you get shot, don’t come crying to me.”

“Technically, I’d come crying to Cliff. He’s our medic.”

“Just…” Dante closes his book, using one of his claws as a bookmark. “Be careful. And maybe don’t lead with ‘Hi, I’m the Mothman who’s been secretly watching you.’”

My nostrils flare in anger. “I don’t secretly watch—”

Cliff rolls his eyes, which is not a good look on a Sasquatch. His mumbled, “Your carved sculptures suggest otherwise, bro,” has no heat.

They’re right. This is probably a terrible idea. But as Nocturna’s voice fills our sanctuary, my decision crystallizes like the surrounding formations.

Sometimes protecting someone important means risking everything.

Even if she might hate me for it.