Moonlust

Chapter Eighteen, The Red Hours V.

It all made sense, then. The clarity experienced by those who were involved in this game erased their perceptions. It struck them with the sobriety of their false expectations and understanding. The shedding of blood was about to start, and no soul was prepared for the result of that particular battle.

Barricades had been erected, shelters had been filled, food had been stored, and fear had afflicted every beating heart. There was no sunlight on that day. Thick black clouds had been rounded throughout the city for years now, and their presence had completely engulfed sunlight before it reached residents' needs. Such sight broke the heart of those who were old enough to remember what it was like to bathe in sunlight on a hot summer day, but it was normal for the children who wouldn't know what a blue sky would be.

The air stinked like oil and grease. The machines were set in motion, causing a thunderous shout across the city. The twilight reverie lied empty in the frontier, awaiting its savior. The soldiers had secretly exchanged drugs to keep their sanity intact for what they were about to witness again, and soldiers as young as twelve years old, were preparing to fight mightily. The eyes watched the full moon devoured by the clouds of black ashes, awaiting the moment when their swords collided with the claws of mutilated creations.

The Gospels of Fear had been recited thousands of times in these brief hours. The regular gunshots were heard across the city, families leaving behind nothing but a note and a fresh corpse for the mooncallers to devour believing that was the only merciful solution to their everlasting pain. The guards had encircled the dome of crops, the place was the whole food supply of the city was cultivated intelligently. The royals had received their more than fair portion of protection unlike the rest of the citizens, and the high church rung their bell every hour in anticipation as the soldiers froze in their positions. Stolen kisses occurred in every shadow between the lovers, leaving the safety of their company hoping to see one another again.

And at last, the secretly suicidal soldiers had awaited to swallow poisonous substance in hope of having their death impactful on the predators. Young inexperienced soldiers believed that once they take a painkiller, they wouldn't feel the pain of their limbs being torn apart or worse, being stolen. Those hours passed like a dull knife scraping the fresh wounds of the city, and the confrontation between the strange mixture of hopeless and enthusiastic soldiers and their rivals who might be their own blood and kin loomed in the black horizon.

One hour before the fullmoon.

Ivanka stood still with her heart beating like a drum. She stared at the tall man hovering over her, knowing that this face was more than familiar to her eyes. The words were knotted inside her brain, and her tongue faltered to assemble them, but he was too keen on speaking first.

"As beautiful as you have always been." The mooncaller softly spoke as he let down the lamplight. "No matter how I make things hard for you, you would always get it right. You know how my mind works." He took out a chair and sat on the dusty table, gesturing her to join him. Ivanka was still stunned, unable to accept his invitation, she retreated to the door.

The mooncaller was a one hundred and ninety centimeters tall male. He had shoulder length black and white hair, he wore sunglasses and possessed a normal humanly face, he wore a dark beige trench coat over a Victorian black suit. From his neck down, many patches of his human skin was sewed to bionic ones, and his fingers were entirely mechanical. It was like this man had been dismembered then assembled once again. From his back, a one hundred centimeters long tale had emerged. He kept wiggling it around like a lizard, perhaps unaware of its movement.

"Its a lot to process." He sighed. Ivanka gulped as she mustered the words. "Luther..?" She observed every single detail of this strange man, the first mooncaller Ivanka encountered in her life without having to fight. "Please, have a seat." Luther asked her as he eyed Andrew who was still unconscious. "Your friend, his arm is infected." Luther got up as Ivanka sat down. "You're supposed to be dead.. " Ivanka stammered as Luther proceeded to focus on Andrew. "I am, and someone gave your friend a marker." Luther inspected his arm as Ivanka raised an eyebrow. She was full of questions yet she was unable to speak. "A marker, you haven't figured out this thing yet?" Luther wondered, Ivanka's silence confirmed his thoughts.