“So where to start?” Kithara mused. “Let’s see. Well, my birth name before I was incepted was Ian. Like you, I grew up in the suburbs of Carmine City. I was an only child, much indulged, and I think somewhat spoiled as a result. I was interested in all kinds of things: literature, science, music, and dance. My mother sent me to ballet classes. Ballet is unusual for a boy, but I was good at it, and didn’t much care what other kids thought. Besides,” here he rubbed a finger along my thigh, “I think I fancied boys, even then, and I loved those male dancers in their sheer white tights.”
At this, my heart conducted a little somersault in my chest.
“When I was sixteen, my parents got divorced,” Kithara continued, “and my mother moved into an apartment in the city. I fell in with a rough crowd, rode a motorcycle, and danced naked in a club, causing my mother no end of grief.” Here, he chewed on his lip. Did I detect regret in his voice? He sighed. “You talk about being a monster. I think I was, before I became Wraeththu. Do you have any cigarettes?”
“No, I don’t smoke, um, tobacco.”
“Shit.” He took another swig of the wine and continued. “I heard things about a band of strange mutants that lived in a no-man’s land in the inner city. Beings that attacked boys and somehow infected them so that they became mutants too. Some people dismissed it as urban myth. I didn’t. Instead, it fascinated and horrified me. By then, I was writing for my high school blog, one of the few responsible things I did back then, and I thought it would be just so hot, you know, to actually track down someone who had seen one of these creatures. It became an obsession. I ventured further and further into their territory, and through talking to people, streetwalkers, bums, cops, I was slowly putting together a strange and contradictory story. Some said they were like vampires, attacking people at night and sucking their blood; others thought they were just another gang trying to scare people. I found an eye-witness who said they were beautiful to look at, but deadly to touch. Soon, I was to find out for myself.
“One day someone emailed me and gave me the address of a man who, they said, had eyewitness info. That address was deep in the ghetto, which made me pretty nervous. But I went anyway. I found the apartment, knocked on the door. Suddenly I had the most creeped out feeling and started to walk away. Then, the door opened, and a man came out. I say a man, but I knew from the get-go that it wasn’t a man.”
“How did you know?”
Kithara raked a hand through his hair, making it stand up on top. He frowned. “I just knew. For one thing, he didn’t look like anyone you’ve ever seen before. He was stunningly beautiful, very tall, porcelain skin, brilliant violet eyes sparked with gold and bright red hair that was long, almost waist-length, braided into many little braids. He wore a long black leather coat with a fringed scarf tied over his shoulders and red high-heeled cowboy boots. An incongruous combination to say the least. He laid a hand on my arm and said, ‘I hear you are looking for me.’
“‘I don’t think so,’ I replied, because even as stupid and naïve as I was, I knew he was trouble.
“He said, ‘Yes, you are. I’ve been monitoring you. I know you’ve been drawn to us for some time now. You have only to take the final step.’ Then he smiled, revealing long, perfect teeth. I started to run. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by what appeared to be a gang of beautiful Goth boys, all different, and yet all with the same knowing light in their eyes.”
“Wow,” I said. Unaccountably, I felt envious.
“Wow, indeed.” He shifted, taking another sip of wine. “They dragged me to a cellar, tore off all my clothes, put a tourniquet on my arm to pop up the vein, and then Thiede – that was the red-haired guy – injected me with a syringe full of his blood.” Kithara fingered the thick white scar on his arm. “They went through a freakin’ weird ritual with drums and chants. I was scared out of my mind. I thought they were going to kill me. And then, for three days while I went through althaia – that is the change – I wished that they had.”
He paused, rubbing his temples. “On the third evening I woke up as myself but altered. Better, stronger, more beautiful. A new being. They named me Kithara and I became fully Wraeththu. I am clever, little Jareth. Under Thiede’s tutelage, I blossomed. Soon I was in charge of a gang of my own and became responsible for more of the terrible rumours that drifted like smoke around the city.” He looked at me from under his lids. My skin prickled, but I couldn’t figure out what it meant.
He pushed a strand of hair back behind his ears. “I worked hard and earned Thiede’s trust. He made me one of his elite. He has grand schemes, Thiede does, and has yet to reveal the full extent of them. We follow blindly because we must. The future belongs to Wraeththu, Jareth.”
“So you say.” I was becoming very uncomfortable; my burned face itched and I had to resist clawing at it. “What happened to you, then, Kithara? If you were so powerful, how did Sligo get hold of you?”
“I grew arrogant and careless,” Kithara said. “And the Aghama punishes hubris.”
“The Aghama?”
“The first of us… our god, if you like, or the nearest we have to one.” Kithara grimaced. “I had a huge fight with Thiede about a plan to take over a human gang’s territory. We had arms and hara enough to do it. Thiede said it wouldn’t work and it would be on my head if it went wrong. And it did. Half my gang was killed; the other half captured. Our enemies auctioned us off on the internet to the highest bidder. In my case, it was Sligo who bought me. They tied me up, threw me into a truck, and shipped me out here. I thought I’d die from thirst. We stopped several miles away from here and Sligo came to inspect the goods. He insisted on being shown exactly what it was that made me different. It was completely humiliating. I offered to give him some first-hand experience, but he was too savvy for that.” Kithara’s mouth twisted.
“What, um, what exactly is it that makes you different?” I said, feeling shy, fearful of the answer, but I had to know.
“Ah, curiosity killed the cat,” Kithara said, with a smile. He reached over and gently laid a hand on my crotch. I jumped in surprise and a jolt of pleasure shot through me. His fingers flexed.
“Kithara...,” I began, but I didn’t really want him to stop. I was a virgin with tremendous yearnings and he was pushing all the right buttons.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, and began massaging me through my jeans. When he had succeeded in fully arousing me, which didn’t take much, he ran two fingers along either side of my throbbing flesh, outlining it through my jeans. “There, that’s a human male. I remember having one of those. A very demanding little beast. I have an organ something like that, but altered, and just as capable of pleasure, more so in some ways. But beyond that, I have a female portal too. I am both male and female. Do you want to see?”
I was somewhat squeamish, slightly drunk, immensely curious, and totally turned on. I nodded.
He laughed, thumbed open his pants button, pulled down the zipper, then raised his hips, and wriggled out of his leather jeans. He turned to face me. I looked. The devil take me, I had to. Oh god! It was emerging from a nest of short, blond fur, unfurling like a fern, a bizarre kind of flower, petals pulsing with colour. This was it, his secret. It was beautiful and it freaked the shit out of me. Like something from a pipe dream. Only then did I truly understand how different Wraeththu were. Alien. I was both shocked and excited in a strangely, savage way.
He leaned forward, wetting his lips with his tongue. “Touch me.”
I shook my head violently.
“You wanted knowledge, human scum,” he said. “So learn.” He took my unresisting hand and brought it down to fold around his organ, stiff as a rod, but warm, flexible, and alive, petals peeling back. Then he moved my hand down and pressed one of my fingers into a narrow, moist opening. I gasped, closing my eyes.
“I’m aching for aruna,” he said. “Please, let me touch you.”
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t look.
I heard hi
m spit on his hand, felt him unzip my pants, take me out, and stroke me in a firm grip, thumb spreading moisture. So hot; so compelling.
“No, I can’t do this,” I moaned.
“I won’t hurt you, I promise. Doesn’t it feel good?”
“Yes,” I gasped, “oh, god, yes.” He was unrelenting. I found myself moving my hips, back and forth, pushing into his hand, blood throbbing, skin tingling, until the need became too great, too overwhelming. I threw back my head, and with a loud groan, shuddered out a glorious climax, all over everything.
I opened my eyes in time to see Kithara’s face wracked with the same ecstasy I’d felt. Could he feed on my sensations? He lowered his head, opened those diamond-shaped eyes and stared at me, eyes burning as if he could laser holes right through me. So beautiful. He was all that I’d ever wanted, all I’d dreamed of, but he was not mine, could never be. And I was ashamed that he, a shining angel, had done this thing for me, a burned wreck of a man.
“No more, please,” I said, pushing his hand away. Tears welled in my eyes.
Kithara rubbed his hand on the mattress, then reached over and tenderly moved my hair away from the burned side of my face. “You try to hide yourself,” he said in that soft, melodious voice. “But I see who you really are, Jareth Nine, and you are beautiful.”
A tear scorched down my cheek. “Are you going to kill me now?” I asked, pitifully.
“Not at all.” He sat back, laughing softly. “I believe you are already partially Wraeththu. Would you like to become complete?”
“What the hell do you mean, partially?” I said. “That’s not possible.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, I had one of my visions, accompanied by the falling sensation in the pit of my stomach. I closed my eyes and saw a murderous throng of people marching past the circus gates, armed with guns.
“Kithara, get dressed, quickly,” I cried. “They’re coming for you. I know it!”
We heard shouting. Far off, an elephant bugled. Someone knocked loudly on the trailer door and then Pavel burst in, panting. “Kithara, some men are coming and they don’t look too friendly. Sligo sent me. He says to hide.”
“Where?” Kithara asked, looking pointedly around his bare dwelling.
“Not here. Sligo said to go hide in his trailer,” Pavel said. “Craig, you need to come with me.” He waved at the roustabout who had been standing outside guarding Kithara.
“I’ll take him to my place, Pavel,” I said. He nodded.
Kithara followed me out into the humid night. I took him on a short cut through the tents. We heard more shouting in the distance.
Just as we arrived, the door to my trailer opened, projecting a rectangle of warm, yellow light into the darkness. Esmeralda stood there like righteous anger, large and imposing in her pink nightgown that had feathers around the neck and sleeves. “What’s goin’ on?” she called.
“A lynch mob,” I said, grimly. “Coming for Kithara.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Well, get in here.” She stepped back inside. Hastily, we took the step up into the trailer and slammed the door.
“Do you think they’ll search the grounds?” I asked.
“Can’t say,” Esmeralda replied. “Shit, I was afraid of this after what I heard in town the other night.” She raked an assessing glance over Kithara. “So you’re the demon boy who’s got everyone all riled up. You look pretty harmless to me.”
“Looks are deceiving,” Kithara said, with a smirk. “I’m actually quite wicked. Tell her, Jareth.”
“Might want to shut that smart mouth for a spell, honey. Better go hide in the closet.”
Kithara nodded and disappeared down the hall.
“I’m going to go out there, see what’s happening,” I said.
“Be careful, Jareth,” Esmeralda said. Then, unexpectedly, she gave me a hug. Her breasts felt like doughy pillows against my chest. Comforting.
I put on my mask and went out into the night. A steady breeze was blowing, hot and dry. People were running every which direction, but it wasn’t hard to find the source of the commotion. Near the entrance to the big top arena, a group of about one hundred men were gathered in a semi-circle around members of the circus community. The intruders held guns, flashlights, lanterns, and ominously, several of them were carrying torches. I thought that it looked like some kind of bad movie, the final scene in Frankenstein. But this was real and frightening. I worked my way up close and hid behind a concession trailer.
A tall man and a short one were arguing with Dr. Sligo. Behind Sligo stood Pavel, Tom Houston, Stubs Wheaton and about a dozen others, including Craig the guard holding the shotgun. Dr. Sligo said, “What the hell do you people think you’re doing here!”
“Haven’t you heard?” said the tall man. “There’s been an uprising of these mutant things in Mid-land. They’ve killed a bunch of people. We have to get rid of this threat, stamp it out permanent. Better get out of the way or you’ll be guilty of harbouring a criminal.”
“This one hasn’t done any harm to you,” Sligo said. “And he’s under guard all the time. He’s no threat.”
“That’s not so,” said the short man. “He’s influenced people, perverted our young folks. Dr. Sligo, either you turn him over or we’re going to torch your circus.” The man next to him grinned and waved his flaming weapon.
The circus crowd gasped and then there were angry murmurs. Sligo leaned over and whispered something to Pavel, who whispered back.
“Now, truly, there’s no need for all this lawlessness,” Sligo said, raising his hands, palms out. “As soon as you bring me a written warrant for his arrest, I’ll turn him over.”
“This is our warrant,” one of the men said and shot his gun in the air.
“Hey, none of that, none of that!” Sligo yelled. “Fine, you want him. I’ll take you to him.”
He led the group down the midway, taking the long route towards the trailer that had housed Kithara, probably figuring he would be gone by the time they reached it.
This was getting serious. What would they do when they discovered Kithara wasn’t there? Could we hide him successfully all night from these creeps? Possibly, but what if they came back tomorrow? I had no faith that the local cops would protect us.
It had become clear that Kithara needed to escape from the circus altogether and that he should leave under cover of darkness. Like now. How to do it? My head was in a whirl. He’d need a car, water, food, cash. How much money had I stashed away in the jar under my bed? Maybe six hundred dollars? Not much. Then I paused for a moment. Why should I help him? What was he to me but one of the savages that had killed my family? I should be happy to get revenge. But no, I didn’t feel that way anymore. Things had changed, just as he had said they would. I could still feel his touch on my face, his soft voice saying, I see who you really are, Jareth Nine, and you are beautiful. A moment of revelation, as if he’d applied a cooling balm to my scorched soul. No, I could not stand by while they shot him like a dog.
The intruders were fanning out over the grounds. Circus people melted away before them. Time to act.
Walking calmly so as not to attract attention, I headed in the other direction back to my trailer. I stopped at a concession stand, grabbed a cooler and filled it with bottled water, chips, apples, sodas. Found a dolly and wheeled it along, seeking the dark areas between tents. I stashed it behind my trailer, then cautiously knocked on the door. Esmeralda opened it and pulled me inside.
“So, what news?” she asked.
I slipped off my mask. “There’s an armed mob that seems determined to find our mutant. Did I mention armed, as in, with guns? He’s got to leave, Ez.”
“Of course he does, honey. We’ve been working on it.”
“What d’you think?” Kithara said, coming into the room. I looked up and burst out laughing. He was disguised, wearing one of Ez’s leather jackets which looked huge on him, his bright hair pinned up and covered by a bandana, and for th
e final touch, he sported one of Esmeralda’s fake beards.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” I choked. “No one will recognize you.”
In the distance, we heard shouting. “No time to be fooling around,” Esmeralda said. “You better get going.”
“What can I use for transportation?” Kithara asked. “I won’t get far on my feet.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said. “We need to steal a car. But getting the keys will be a problem and I don’t know how to hot wire one.”
“Not a good idea, anyway,” Esmeralda said. “They’ll track you down fast if you steal a car. You should take my motorcycle.”
“No, Ez, you need your bike.”
“Now don’t you argue with me. I’m not goin’ t’stand by and watch anyone get lynched. Here’s the key. There’s a set of saddlebags on the side that can carry some stuff.”
“I’ve got some water and a bit of food outside in a cooler,” I said. “You guys load up. I need to get some stuff.” I went back to my room, got my backpack, and threw in some clothes, a pocketknife, a comb, toothbrush and other things he’d need. My glance fell on my tube of choi and the pipe. Shit, I’d need to go hide in a hole and smoke myself silly after all this. I stuck them in a pocket on my jean’s leg. Then I crawled under my bed and pulled out my money jar. Took out a roll of bills, my savings for that desert island I’d planned to go to. Well, it would take a little longer now. Besides, I should give Esmeralda something for that bike. I went into Esmeralda’s room, peeled three hundred dollars off the roll and set it on her dresser, then stuck the rest of it in the pack. I went back outside. “Here,” I thrust the backpack at Kithara. “There’s some money in there. All I could spare.”
“I won’t forget your kindness to me,” Kithara said. “Both of you. I guess all humans aren’t scum, after all.” He kissed Esmeralda’s cheek, then hugged me. It felt so good to hold him like that, to press our bodies together. I wanted to stay that way for the rest of my life. Well, not possible. I started to pull away, but he held on. “Come with me, Jareth,” he said.
Paragenesis: Stories of the Dawn of Wraeththu Page 12