Broken Moon Series Digital Box Set

by F. T. Lukens

  But he found nothing. Frowning, Ren ducked to look into the sliver of dark space, but didn’t see the small tin box. That was odd. It wasn’t worth anything. It wasn’t worth taking by anyone other than his mother.

  Unless… unless.

  Hope was a dangerous thing, frightening, yet thrilling. Ren shot to his feet and tore open the closet door. A smattering of clothes hung there, but more were missing. He pushed the remnants to the side. The large pack his stepfather used on hunting trips was gone.

  Ren ran to the kitchen. He righted a chair, climbed onto the counter, and reached to the top of the shelves. He pulled down the glass jar his mother used for her special sweet juice, and it shattered on the floor. He pushed aside the serving platter they used for birthday cakes and the pottery bowl his stepfather had bought his mother from the next town over. He stepped along the counter, perched dangerously, and swiped down everything from the cabinets; around him crockery rained, shattering and splintering along the floor.

  Asher came running in and skidded to a stop as Ren flung open another door and pawed through the remnants.

  “Ren? What are you doing? I thought the house was coming down.”

  “It’s gone,” Ren said. His tone didn’t match the thrumming of his veins or the pounding of his heart. “It’s gone. They escaped. They had to have escaped.”

  Asher frowned. “Ren, come down.”

  Ren hopped to the floor. His boots crushed the memories to dust. “Don’t you understand? The keepsake box is gone and the emergency credits.”

  “So? The soldiers took them? Ren, they’ve ransacked the place.”

  “No.” Ren shook his head. He resisted the urge to shake Asher. “They were hidden. And the box has no value to anyone other than my mother. There would be no point for a soldier to take it.”

  Placating, insufferable, Asher’s raised his hands. “I know you want to believe they got away.”

  “They did!” Ren said, kicking over the nearest chair. It slid across the floor. “Don’t act like you understand. You don’t!”

  “I know I don’t, but I’m trying here. Okay? I am not going to support you in a delusion.”

  “Why? Why do you care?”

  “Because I do!” Asher stepped around the table and gripped Ren’s shoulder with his good arm. “I do because I care about you. I still care about you and I’m not going to stop just because you hate me.”

  “You only care if I’m a threat.”

  “That is not true, and you know it.”

  Ren clenched his jaw. He ignored that statement; he had to, or he might break in pieces. “And what makes you so sure it’s a delusion? The keepsake box is gone. The emergency credits. My stepfather’s travel bag. It all points to—”

  “Rowan and I found a mass grave.”

  Ren wrenched out of Asher’s grasp. Breathing heavily, he pushed his way past Asher and into the main room. With shaking hands, he unlocked the door and stepped out into the darkening day and the falling snow.

  Rowan approached him. “Did Asher tell you?”

  “Yes.”

  Gently, her voice low, she nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. Is there anything I can do? Are you going to be okay?”

  No. No, he was not. “I’m fine.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Ren, it’s okay if you’re not—”

  “I need a minute.”

  Ren walked briskly to the path he knew so well. His body was flushed. Sweat gathered at his temples and the base of his hairline. It dried on his skin, and he shivered. Snow fell into his eyes and his hair. It gathered around the collar of his jacket and chilled him, but it didn’t hinder his progress. His steps didn’t falter.

  He pushed through the low-hanging, snow-laded branches of the evergreens along the trail and ignored the bare, spindly twigs of the deciduous trees as they caught on the fabric of his clothes. The farther he went, the more anxious he became; emotions and memories overwhelmed him. Suddenly walking wasn’t quick enough. His body hummed with energy, so he broke into a jog, which turned into a full-out run. He sprinted, his legs and arms pumped, and his breath came in fraught gasps, until he stumbled wildly onto the beach.

  Kicking up sand and snow, Ren fell to his knees at the edge of the water. Chest heaving, Ren stared out over the lake, flat as glass with the shore of the other side barely visible in the gathering darkness. A thin layer of ice glinted in the fading light. Underneath, the water moved, swirled inky-black like in his dreams.

  His dreams, where Liam was alive and real and talked with him. I’m not here.

  Sitting there with the cold leeching into his legs through the thin fabrics of his trousers, Ren knew. Liam wasn’t here. He wasn’t at the lake. He wasn’t in the village. He wasn’t in the ground.

  Hope was dangerous.

  “This must be the lake you talked so much about,” Asher said, coming to stand next to Ren at the water’s edge.

  Ren hadn’t heard his footsteps and he jumped at his voice. He craned his neck and looked up. Asher stared at the lake.

  “It’s not quite like you described.”

  Ren frowned. “That’s because it was barely spring when I left.”

  “Ah,” Asher said. He toed at the ground. “It’s nice.”

  “It’s not.”

  Asher raised an eyebrow.

  Ren continued. “It’s almost always cold except in the heat of summer. The sand gets stuck everywhere. Things live in it, and they bump into your legs when you swim. And if you splash too much, the water gets too murky to see. It’s gross and it’s nothing like the clear fountains and warm pools on the drifts where you can swim and not be afraid of being pinched by a creature or getting tangled in lake grass.” Ren pulled his knees close to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.

  Asher sighed. “I wasn’t comparing it to the water on the drifts.”

  Ren didn’t say anything. The sun was gone, and the sky edged from twilight to full dark. The broken moon was visible through the breaks in the clouds, as were a few pinpricks of stars.

  “Was this the spot where…” Asher trailed off. He swallowed; his expression was pained, as though he realized his question bordered on cruel.

  “Where I last saw my brother? Not the exact spot, but…” Ren waved his hand dismissively. “But nearby.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. For everything. For all that’s happened. For pushing you away. For the people of your village. For your home.”

  Ren stood. “My family is alive. They escaped. I know they did.”

  Placating, Asher raised his hand and took a step back. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, Ren. Whatever you need to believe.”

  Ren didn’t register the doubt behind Asher’s words. Instead, he zeroed in on Asher’s limp arm. He wasn’t wearing a sling, maybe to hide the fact he had limited use in case they wound up in a fight. Asher’s fingers twitched.

  Again, shame overwhelmed Ren, but not for his humble planet, or his gross lake. This was deeper.

  “Last time you were here,” he said, clearing his throat, “you were attacked, injured, and captured. I’ve been selfish. I never thought about your feelings about coming back here, what that might trigger for you. I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve not been yourself.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “And how do you feel now?” Asher’s voice was hesitant; the question was weighted with meaning.

  Ren tilted his head and watched the clouds drift. He blinked against a few wandering snowflakes.

  “Ashamed. Guilty. Heartbroken. Hopeful.” He met Asher’s gaze. “Uncluttered.”

  “Is that good?”

  “Yeah.” Ren’s voice came out in a whisper; his breath made a puff of cloud. He
stood and brushed off the back of his trousers.

  “We should get back,” Asher said. “It’s getting too dark to see.”

  “I know the way.” Ren stepped into Asher’s space. His pulse raced, and in the low light he saw Asher’s bemused expression. Carefully, slowly, Ren ghosted his fingers over Asher’s hand. “Let me fix it.”

  The space between them charged with electricity, and the spark raised the fine hairs on Ren’s arms. He shivered, and it wasn’t only from the cold.

  Asher licked his lips. His green eyes were wide in the dying light, reflecting the broken moon and the ice on the water. “I don’t…” He took a breath. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “Honestly? No, and you don’t trust me either. But I trust my own judgment. You may not be the Ren I became friends when we were on this planet together, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you.” Asher closed his eyes, as if in surrender. “Do it.”

  Ren threaded his fingers with Asher’s lax hand, their skin frigid. He closed his eyes, and pushed out with his power. Asher’s shoulder lit up in Ren’s mind. He saw a blueprint of machine and bone, of tech surrounded by flesh and sinew. In the hold of his star, Ren had rendered the mechanism inert, crippling Asher, his friend, the person for whom he held the most affection. Remorse threatened to drown him. Ren pressed closer, needing to convey his contrition. His lips rasped over the stubbled skin of Asher’s cheek in a whisper of a kiss. Asher’s body was a wall of heat and comfort, and when Ren pressed his cold lips to Asher’s jaw, he released his star.

  Asher’s gasp puffed against Ren’s cheek. He shook his hand free of Ren’s grip and reached up to splay against the back of Ren’s neck, holding him still.

  Other than that small gesture, Asher didn’t move, merely held Ren as they breathed, as they shared a moment by Ren’s childhood lake under the stars Ren used to dream about, with the gentle whispered hush of falling snow the only sound.

  “Thank you,” Asher said, quietly, after an eternity.

  At the words, Ren’s eyes filled. A lump lodged in his throat, and everything he had held back broke over him in a wave. He dropped his forehead to Asher’s shoulder and sobbed.

  Asher’s grip tightened while Ren shuddered apart.

  He didn’t let go.

  6

  Trudging back through the forest was a solemn process. With little light, Asher relied on Ren to guide him, and that required Asher to rest his hand on Ren’s shoulder. They didn’t speak, not after Ren, shy, embarrassed, and rubbing at his eyes, had hiccupped and pulled back from Asher’s embrace.

  Healing Asher’s shoulder and crying had been cathartic, and, though their relationship wasn’t what they’d once had, they were closer than they had been since leaving Mykonos all those weeks ago.

  Ren spied the flickering of flame up ahead, and they found Rowan holding a torch and wearing a sour expression.

  “Where the stars have you been?”

  “We’re fine, thanks,” Asher replied. He picked up one of the two packs at Rowan’s feet and slung it over his shoulder.

  Rowan huffed, opened her mouth—undoubtedly for a retort which included the word idiot—but paused. Her eyes widened as she saw Asher grasp the packs straps with both hands. She looked to Ren and back to Asher and her mouth pulled down at the corners.

  “Your shoulder—”

  “We’ll talk later,” Asher said, cutting her off. “We should find the others.”

  “This way,” Ren said. At a brisk walk, he followed the path from his home into the village. He didn’t wait for Asher; the closeness they had shared at the lake had evaporated in the face of Rowan’s quiet appraisal.

  Toward the village center, he found Ollie, bundled in a scavenged coat. The fabric stretched tight over his shoulders, and the buttons strained over Ollie’s chest.

  “Jakob’s over there, down that road. His house is standing and will be good shelter for the night.”

  “Lead the way,” Rowan said.

  Ren jumped, not realizing how close Rowan stood at his shoulder. Ren turned slightly and found Rowan and Asher flanking him. Their breaths puffed in soft clouds; their cheeks were flushed with cold. Flakes of snow clung to Asher’s golden eyelashes and framed the green of his eyes in the flickering shadows caused by Rowan’s makeshift torch.

  Ren spun back around and stared at Ollie’s back as he led them toward Jakob’s home.

  Ren knew where it was. He remembered it from when he was a child, when he and Liam had passed it while they played or completed chores. To young Ren, it had appeared enormous, like a mansion or a castle.

  Approaching it now, the house resembled a skeleton with its bone white columns broken and falling. The open front door was a maw. Scorch marks tattooed the shutters. The glass in the windows was broken. It had fared better than Ren’s humble home, but the family’s possessions were strewn all over the front porch and yard.

  Ren peered around the entranceway and noted the solid construction and the extra spaces that Ren’s home didn’t have. He turned a corner and found Jakob and Penelope dragging mattresses from the upstairs bedrooms into a den. A fire roared in a fireplace. Broken furniture had been pushed to the back wall. A pile of blankets rose in a corner, and another pile of clothes sat by the fire, warming. The room gave off a cozy, but intimidating, vibe. Ren wanted to sink into the nest of cushions closest to the fire and warm his bones, but he shuffled to a stop. He’d never been in Jakob’s social class, let alone in his home.

  Jakob dropped the mattress he dragged and greeted Ren with a lukewarm smile. “Welcome to my home.”

  Ren shrugged out of his damp jacket and laid it by the fire to dry. “I’ve never been in your house. It’s big.”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is opulent.”

  “Sure,” Ren said.

  “Look, we made a fire. And we’ll have a nice, warm place to sleep tonight.” Penelope sat on a mattress and patted the space beside her. She smiled, and her brown eyes caught the firelight and seemed to glow. “Have a nice dinner from our packs and a good rest. Everything will look brighter in the morning.”

  “Obviously,” Jakob muttered.

  Ren bit his lip to stifle his snicker.

  “No power?” Rowan entered the space with no stutter in her step or worry for propriety and looked around with her hands on her hips.

  “We have candles,” Penelope offered.

  “We could have power if Ren is willing,” Jakob said. He crossed his arms. “And then you would be able to enjoy the splendor of my family home.”

  “Ren is here to disconnect. I don’t think having him power anything is a good idea.” Ren agreed with Asher. He shrugged his shoulders at Jakob in apology. “Besides,” Asher continued, “lighting this place up would be a beacon. We shouldn’t draw attention, especially if we are going to stay here a few days.”

  “We’re not,” Rowan stated. “We’ll head back to the ship in the morning.”

  Jakob dropped his arms. His mouth flapped open, and he took a step forward. “What? But we’ve only just arrived!”

  “And staying would be for what purpose? Your families are gone. No one is here. There isn’t a reason to hang around.”

  “You’re joking. You have to be joking.” Jakob looked to Ren, pleading. “We got here only a few hours ago, Ren.”

  “I know.”

  “Then make them let us stay.”

  Rowan twisted her mouth and grabbed her braid. “No one is going to make me do anything. Understood? I am the captain here, and no little dusters are going to order me around. I don’t care if they have technopathic abilities or opulent houses.”

  Jakob turned red; the color burned in the apples of his cheeks. “Screw you. Screw all of you weeds.” He kicked the pile of blankets, and Penelope lunged to keep them from tu
mbling into the fire. Jakob stalked off, slamming the door behind him.

  “Good job, Cap,” Ollie said. He joined his sister by the fire. “I think Ren showed more empathy when he tried to kill the Hatfields.”

  Ren winced.

  Rowan rounded on Ollie, finger pointed. “Don’t start. I’ve rearranged my, our, entire lives for these two. We’ve been pursued by an insane man, stormed a drift, and almost shot out of the damn cluster. We’ve done everything we can and now we’re on some stars-forsaken ball of dirt looking for people who are probably dead.”

  “Rowan!” Penelope said, scandalized. “They could be alive.”

  Rowan cut her gaze to Asher.

  Asher sighed. “We found a gravesite. It was large.”

  “Does Jakob know?” Ollie asked.

  Asher shook his head.

  Penelope stood. “One of us should tell him.”

  “I’ll do it.” Ren needed air. The pressure in the room was stifling.

  Penelope wrung her hands. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking at Rowan. “It should come from me. I’ll make sure to use all my empathy.”

  Rowan glared.

  Ren left the room through the door Jakob had just slammed. The house was dark, but Ren followed the glow of a candle to another room.

  Jakob sat on a bench in the curve of a large window. He had one leg tucked beneath him, and he stared out over their village. The candle sat next to him in an ornate holder; the flame flickered in time with Jakob’s breaths. The window surface was fogged from the heat of Jakob’s body while the snow continued to drift outside.

  The carpet softened the sound of Ren’s footsteps, but in the tomb-like silence of the room, and with the creak of wood beneath him, he couldn’t have sneaked up on Jakob if he’d wanted. Jakob didn’t turn around, but Ren’s image reflected in the window and their gazes met before Ren looked away.

  “Did the drifters send you to talk me down?”

  “No, they didn’t. I volunteered.”