Chapter 8 Tantalizing Moonlight
Tantalizing moonlight.
“The half-gods—that’s how we started calling the mutant children in our lab—do not function like you and me.
They function on instincts. Smell, touch, light…
They are more attuned to the minor changes in their environment.
They can feel when you lie, smell your fear, taste the danger in the air.
They have to be taught how to act like humans from a young age, to not make everyone else uncomfortable.
Some learn fast, others… well. Others stay unsettling. ”
ALASTAIR
We watch as Scylla walks back into the green waters after devouring Leonard and Janice.
The two mercenaries have been at my side for years and survived many raids and attacks.
Their deaths cut deeper than a sharp blade, but I have no tears to spare.
When I was younger, I learned to never cry—water was scarce in the wastelands before my fathers adopted me.
“I’m sorry,” says Stellan at my side.
I look at him, surprised by the softness in his voice. Stoic Stellan, who rarely shows emotions other than anger or cold efficiency. People always whisper that Perri is the best part of him. But I wonder…
I can’t help but wonder.
“Let’s go,” I say. “The tracks go on, which means Scylla hasn’t caught them here.”
We get back into the truck and I drive us away from the shore, leaving behind Leonard and Janice’s gutted vehicle. If Scylla rushes out of the water again, we’ll see her coming. I can’t help but to notice Stellan’s hand shaking as he tunes the radio.
“He’s alive,” I say, eyes on the dusty road.
An empty reassurance, but one we both need. I’ve grown fond of Perri—worryingly so.
Stellan doesn’t say a word, his knuckles white as he tightens his hand on the dashboard.
Half an hour later, the tracks lead us to a small pier over the water. Scylla is fast in short bursts, but she can’t follow us through the entire bay in such a brief span of time; we’re safe for now.
The sun is disappearing behind the horizon, painting the sky a bright orange, but the buzz of flies surrounding the horse meat spoils the serene view.
Stellan runs to the end of the pier and kneels on the rotting boards. He’s holding a rope. “They tied him up. The fuckers…”
“It’s cut cleanly. He freed himself, or someone freed him.”
He nods.
We walk back to the shore. The carriages’ tracks are obvious, but that’s not what I’m looking for. They left Perri here, alongside an offering of horse meat, but someone else picked him up not long after.
I expected tire tracks, and so I frown when I find a giant footprint instead, in the mud surrounded by reeds. A three-finger mark, as wide as my truck.
“The Devil of the Wastes,” I say. I would recognize the footprints anywhere. I’ve never met my mutant brother, but he’s a legend I’ve been keeping a close eye on.
Stellan’s intake of breath is near feral. “He took Perri.”
I nod, my eyes following the giant tracks. The Beetle’s strides are so long, they’re easy to miss if you’re not looking for them.
“Relax,” I say, holding Stellan back before he can run to the truck. “It’s a good thing. The Devil is known to save traveling merchants. Perri’s safe with him.”
He sighs, pacing back and forth on the dusty road. “But what if he isn’t? What if they do something to him?”
“They?”
“The Devil is called Griffin, and he lives with his partner, Helios.”
“You know them.” For some reason, the idea of Stellan and Perri being close to another mutant bothers me.
Stellan shakes his head. “Not personally. But I know someone who does. He could get in touch with them for us, but you’re not going to like it.”
I level my gaze at him, brow raised.
We set camp in the barren hills, far away from the bay. The Beetle’s tracks are difficult to follow in the dark—to Stellan’s annoyance—and we’d only waste gas driving in circles wondering if the recesses in the ground are giant footprints or ditches.
“They’ll put distance between us,” he says again as I pull a bag of food from the fridge at the back of my truck.
“We can’t compete with a six-legged machine controlled by an AI. We need to eat and sleep. In the wastelands, you have to stay sharp. You’ll be no good to Perri if you’re dead.”
“Why are they going north? Why not bring Perri back home?”
“That’s the question you’ll have to ask your friends.”
The word friends taste bitter on my tongue. I haven’t forgiven Jude for his betrayal. He made me look like a fool in front of my subjects—twice—and almost broke my heart—almost. And now he’s in love with one of my mutant siblings. Is it me, or are the wastelands getting smaller every day?
Stellan pulls out a sleeping bag and I stop him with a hand. “You’re sleeping in the truck. It’s only the two of us now. We’re not taking any chances.”
He blinks. “In the truck?”
“In the camper. There’s a bed inside.”
“Your bed.”
I hide my smile. “Yes. My bed. I’ll take the first watch. You look frazzled.”
He sighs deeply and puts the sleeping bag back inside his backpack. I can feel his need to argue—Stellan is used to being the one in charge—but he’s too tired to fight my authority tonight. I feel like pushing it a little farther.
“And I’m cooking, too,” I say.
He grumbles something unintelligible and walks away from the truck with my wood burning camping stove in hands. I snort and follow him with the bags of food.
Stellan watches in silence as I prepare a soup of lentils with a side of boiled eggs—a few merchants in the market have chicken coops.
They feed them our food wastes and their feces make great fertilizer for the few hydroponic gardens we have on top of the RWE Baggers.
I sneak an extra egg into Stellan’s bowl before handing it to him.
“Eat everything,” I tell him.
He frowns. “You’re not my mother.”
“No. But you can call me Daddy.”
He almost chokes on his first spoon of soup, and I chuckle at his horrified expression. And yet, underneath it all, I get a whiff of arousal. Interesting.
“No wonder you hit it off pretty fast with Perri,” he says. “You have the same brand of humor. Who would have thought?”
“You might have known, if you said more than two words a year to me.”
Stellan chuckles, surprisingly, then turns his back to me to finish his meal. My eyes snag on the back of his neck, where the hair is so fine and blonde it’s nearly transparent. I want to bury my nose in it and breathe him in.
“So, how do you intend to get in touch with Jude?” I ask.
He tried using their channel earlier in the truck, but only found static. They were out of range of my radio.
“A few days ago they were still helping my mothers get settled, before I left for the job.”
“Ah yes, Perri told me. They moved to the sequoia forest.”
He nods. “With the Highwaymen leadership gone, it became too dangerous to stay near Las Vegas. They took the RVs and left a few weeks ago. We wanted to help, but Jude and Oliver were closer, so they escorted them with the Firefly.”
It sounds like my ex-lover is playing happy family with his new mutant. A year ago, it might have sent me into a rage, but time in the wastelands unravels everything, and emotions such as rage and love wither under the sun if left unattended. Now I just feel a vague bitterness.
Stellan is studying me.
“Then let’s head closer to their location tomorrow,” I say. “The sooner we get in touch with them, the faster we can reach Perri.”
He nods slowly, and we both finish our bowls in silence.
Once Stellan is done washing the dishes with water from the large tank in my truck, he disappears inside the camper without so much as a good night. I’m the monster, and yet I have better manners than he does.
“Stellan isn’t an asshole,” Perri told me once when I’d asked why it seemed like he hated everyone. “He’s just extremely introverted and has very little energy to spare being social.”
“Except for you,” I said, threading my fingers through his long, chestnut hair.
Perri grinned, leaning into my touch. “I’m the reason his social battery is always so low. I’m high maintenance, and he never holds back with me. He gives me everything. His time, his attention, his love…”
“And you’re not even sorry about it.”
Perri was always glowing when he talked about Stellan. It sparked envy in me.
“Hell no,” he said. “Being loved by Stellan feels like sitting on top of the world. Nothing compares.”
Maybe I started wondering that night.
Or maybe it was before that, on the very first day, when Stellan appeared at the Traveling Market three years ago, offering his skills as a mechanic with a severe frown on his pretty face.
When I asked why he wanted a spot in the Market, he said, “I want to protect what is mine.”
Predictably, I thought he meant the material things one needs for survival. Food, shelter, his vehicle… That he wanted a place to call home where he could rest at night without one eye open. We all crave these things.
But once we made the deal, he disappeared into the wastelands and returned a few hours later with a younger man, sun-kissed and colorful: Perri.
I’d been brought to the Traveling Market as a child to be sold like a slave. Perri had been brought to be protected and cared for.
And he turned out to be a skilled hacker. I never regretted giving them a spot on the Market. Even today, after I witnessed two of my friends getting devoured by Scylla while in pursuit of Perri, I can’t find it in me to resent them.
And I share some of Stellan’s worries. I’ll breathe more easily when Perri is safely back by our side.
I spend a few hours enjoying the stars in the clear night sky as I keep watch, appreciating time away from the Traveling Market’s eternal buzzing.
I let Stellan sleep for longer than we agreed on—he needs the rest more than I do—and when it’s finally time to wake him up, I walk quietly to the back of the truck not to startle him. The door of the camper is wide open to let in the cool night air.
The small space is dark, but my eyes pick up on everything easily.
There is a narrow kitchen corner and a shower stall barely wide enough for a grown man.
And at the end, near the wall separating the space from the front of the truck, is my bed.
Stellan has opened the sunroof and moonlight touches his sleeping face.
In his slumber, he’s not scowling. He looks so different and soft.
It’s a rare view, one usually only reserved for Perri.
He took his shirt off before falling asleep, certainly trying to escape the wastelands’ heat. This close to the water, it’s not as warm as inland, but the humidity makes it harder to ignore. My blanket tangles around his waist.
“Stellan,” I say quietly.
He comes awake immediately, senses sharpened by a life spent surviving in the wastelands. His abs flex as he sits on the bed, naked chest caressed by moonlight.
“Yes,” he mumbles.
Then his hand trails over the empty bed at his side, looking for something among the sheets. My chest tightens painfully when I realize he’s looking for Perri.
His face shutters when he remembers our predicament and Perri’s absence. Gone is the softness of his slumber, and I regret waking him.
“Thank you. I’ll take over,” he says while putting his shirt back on. I regret waking him up even more as his carved muscles disappear from view.
Stellan gets out of the camper, and I have to resist touching him as he walks by, trailing his heady scent behind him.
The same scent welcomes me in the sheets as I get into bed.
He has taken over my senses, and I can’t even be mad about it.
It’s fucking intoxicating. I stare at the stars through the open sunroof, arousal coursing through my entire body, and pray that we find Perri before Stellan makes me lose my mind.