The following days do not get better. I keep as much distance from them as I can. Sometimes, I think I’m going to go my own way so I can be free of the constant stress that their arguing brings. I’m not sure why I stay.
When Keary isn’t throwing random accusations at them about stealing me, telling them to go away, or insisting that he doesn’t want either of them, he’s at my side. We talk, and he tells me about the places we’re meandering through. I don’t hate his company.
By now, I’ve gathered that they’re all old. Really old. Drystan, who is over a hundred, is the youngest. Keary is somewhere just under two hundred, and Notto falls somewhere between them.
“How do you live so long?” I ask.
“We have good dental,” Keary teases. I shake my head. “Honestly, there isn’t a ‘how’ that I can answer. It’s all about genetics. Just as dogs tend to live shorter lives—ten years is average, right?—humans’ average is sixty or so in this environment. Before Silence destroyed the world and the human race, who had made a lot of medical advancements, they were living well into their eighties and nineties. Monsters, depending on their species, can live for centuries. We just don’t age the same way as humans do.”
“There are humans inside that compound who claim to have been alive since before Silence killed everyone. How is that possible?” I counter.
“Monster magic,” he says, grinning.
I’m about to roll my eyes again. That’s not an answer. Keary already knows that’s my response, though, since he continues.
“But really, that’s what it is, right? Their lives are tied directly to their partners’, meaning their lifespans get longer. Their mortality slows down.”
“I feel like this is a dooming question, but what happens if their monster dies?”
“Monsters,” Keary corrects. “Plural. Monsters live in polyamorous family groups. It’s incredibly rare that there are only two monsters together.”
Huh. “Really?”
“Yep. Average tends to be five or six, but they get as small as three and as large as twelve.”
My eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”
“Not at all. Just wait until you meet some storms. Their family groups are enormous.”
“I—why? And just to clarify, you’re referring to family groups as lovers, not parents and children, right?”
Keary laughs. “Correct. Polyamorous families—so adults who have multiple romantic partners. I can give a lesson on what those relationships look like if you want because it’s not as simple as everyone fucking, but you asked another question. Which would you like the answer to first?”
Good question. I shake my head. “No idea. Just keep telling me things.”
He grins. “Storms have very large families because they’re filled with elemental power that feeds off each other. People talk about the energy of a storm and how it gains power depending on the kind of storm and where it is. But storms can combine and feed off each other’s energy, creating massive storm cells. In the most basic of terms, storms come together until they reach their peak strength, then they’re considered the perfect storm.”
“A perfect storm is…” I’m not sure how to ask the question or even what the question is. “The finality of their family limit? That sounds like a stupid question.”
Keary chuckles. “A complete family.”
“Yes. I think.”
He grins. “Correct. There’s a lot offeelingsinvolved. I’m not talking, like, emotional or romantic feelings but something more ethereal that’s dictated by our monstrous souls, right? We know when we see someone that they’re our, uh, mates. I guess. Like a pack of wolves, okay? But a pack of monsters instead. Youknowwhen you’re missing a mate, and youknowwhen you find a mate. In the same way, youknowwhen your family is complete. In some cases, packs even know just how many mates they’re missing.”
I shake my head. That’s wild.
“It’s also not optional,” Notto mutters from behind us. “Though some people like to pretend it is.”
I immediately feel Keary’s hackles rise as if he’s become one of the wolves he was just speaking about.
“Shh,” Drystan says, stepping between Notto and us, his hands out. I stop and look at him, but he’s staring into the distance. He has different horns today. They’re crazy and twisted. I love them. There is certainly something sexy about these horns in particular, though I’m not going to pretend I know what it is.
A howl fills the air, though it’s distant. Not the kind of howl that’s called between members of a pack as they communicate. This one is unmistakably filled with pain.
“Is that an animal?” I ask.
“No. It’s a beast,” Notto says. “Come on.”
