Jarad frowned. ‘I can’t be like you anymore. Don’t you understand? They took that from me, all desire.’
The creature nodded. ‘I understand… really. But it can be changed.’
Jarad put his hands over his face. The possibility was there, he knew that. He had run away to lick his wounds. Perhaps he had always wanted to be found.
‘Did you never think of me?’ the creature asked.
Jarad did not lower his hands. ‘Of course, until I made myself stop.’ He heard the creature draw nearer.
‘We can heal you, you know that. The question is: Will you allow it?’ He took hold of Jarad’s hands and pulled them away from his face. The creature’s scent filled his head; bittersweet musk. He exhaled over Jarad, his breath bringing brief visions of comfort and safety.
Jarad knew he should pull away. He must. ‘Call me by name, Jarad.’ The creature’s arms were around his body, lips so close to his own.
‘Lianvis,’ he said. ‘Don’t do this.’
‘Come home.’
Their lips touched and all physical sensation faded away. In the visions that followed, the city was dyed red in the light of a setting sun. There were no humans, no labour facilities, no cars, no pain. Birds wheeled among the broken towers and the green crept back over the land. Jarad was lost in that world, that beautiful lie. He saw himself with Lianvis, in a bower of roses that grew in the corner of a deserted parking lot. It was a dream he’d once had.
Lianvis pulled away, creature no more. ‘Will you come with me?’ Long fingers caressed Jarad’s face.
‘Yes,’ Jarad said, weakly.
Jarad guessed that Lianvis had really expected him to put up more of a fight, and was therefore disorientated by his relatively easy victory. He took Jarad swiftly into the eastern forbidden zone of the city, where their own kind could gather in daylight. The human security patrols did not venture there. The SG believed that if the undesirable element was contained within its own sector, the populace of City Heart was safe. It was a short-sighted view that would eventually mean the end of human occupation in the city.
A café called ‘Chains’, supplied with produce by the black market, provided breakfast for anyone awake at that hour. The sausages frying so temptingly in the filthy kitchen were made of dog meat.
While Lianvis bartered at the counter for black coffee and burnt toast, Jarad went to sit at a table outside. There were no other patrons.
Lianvis returned with food. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Eat.’
Jarad grimaced. ‘I don’t think so. I think I should go home.’
‘Too late for that,’ Lianvis said. ‘Let’s just say I have musked your apartment. The next human who enters there will almost certainly report the matter to the authorities, since they know that token, and they will have bad dreams for three months.’
‘You are disgusting!’
‘A scent through the pores, that is all. What do you take me for?’
‘What you are.’ Jarad sipped the coffee.
Lianvis studied Jarad carefully. He wouldn’t be able to see into his companion’s mind. Whatever Jarad said about denying what he was, he still expertly shrouded his thoughts. Lianvis would know that Jarad had been attacked some months back, and that terrible things had been done to him, because the perpetrators would have bragged about it afterwards. They were hara, they were braggarts. It didn’t take psychic ability to predict that. But none of them would have guessed Jarad would disappear for good.
‘Wraxilan, questioned those responsible for the assault on you,’ Lianvis said.
‘Questioned...’
‘They insisted it had only been ”a bit of fun.”’ Lianvis grimaced.
‘Really. And the Lion accepted that?’
‘Fun gets out of control sometimes. He knows that.’ Lianvis paused. ‘I know it wasn’t that, Jarad. You always kindled jealousy very easily. It caused resentment.’
‘So much so, some trash tried to gut me. Yeah, that fun really got out of control.’ Jarad spat at the ground by his feet, but he couldn’t spit out the bile in his heart.
‘I’ll take you to Wraxilan tonight,’ Lianvis said.
Jarad shrugged.
‘Are you worried about facing those who attacked you?’
‘No.’
‘You should talk about it. We all know pelki happens, but not among our own kind.’
Jarad put his head to one side. ‘It was rape, Viss. Don’t dress it up with a tame word.’
‘Pelki is not tame,’ Lianvis said. ‘That is why we use it.’
Jarad laughed coldly. ‘I bled so much I thought I would heal up completely, that it would all just go. Perhaps it has. Perhaps I’m human again. Perhaps I’m male.’
‘That’s not possible. If you’ve been injured you should see a healer.’
‘Sometimes, it aches.’
‘Jarad…’ Lianvis reached out and laid a hand over one of Jarad’s, which was curled around his coffee mug.
Jarad did not pull away from the contact. ‘They hated me. Why? I didn’t ask to be made Wraeththu. I had no choice.’
‘I know.’
‘Did you… have a choice, I mean?’
Lianvis shook his head.
‘It’s wrong,’ Jarad said and took a big mouthful of the scalding coffee, pulling away from Lianvis’ touch. ‘By staying with them, we condone it.’
‘I’m not sorry about it,’ Lianvis said. ‘I’m happy with what I am. We don’t have to be like the others.’ He paused. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet. He’s a thinker. He talks sense.’
‘Really!’
‘Yes. His name is Velisarius. He’s also a healer. He’ll help you.’
Jarad grimaced. ‘I know of him. He’s a freak. Seems to me he’s into justifying his existence by getting into religion. That’s no answer.’
‘You’re wrong. It’s not religion.’
Again, Jarad laughed. ‘There is no room for hippy mystics in Wraeththu, Viss. I’m surprised your friend is still alive.’
‘It would do no harm to talk to him.’
‘Whatever. I was stupid enough to fall for the breath-sharing, lost my wits, lost my life, so here I am! Do what you like. I don’t care.’
‘I don’t believe you. I don’t think you really liked that life you’d made for yourself. What the hell did you do in that squalid building?’
‘Process data. It was mindless. I wanted that.’
‘Wraeththu are here to stay,’ Lianvis said. ‘You had better get used to it. You are har.’
‘I’m not sure I am anymore.’
Lianvis drained his coffee. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to Velisarius. Before anything, we should get you checked over.’
Velisarius lived, quite appropriately in Jarad’s view, in an old church which was squeezed between high abandoned buildings. Jarad and Lianvis had to clamber over rubble to reach the main entrance. A group of very young hara were playing a game with bones in the litter-strewn entrance hall. They must have been incepted recently. Jarad immediately felt old, and yet his own inception had only been two years before.
At Lianvis’ request, one of the hara took them into the presence of Velisarius. Jarad expected the har to be meditating or chanting, but when they were conducted into the small room at the rear of the building where Velisarius lived, the self-styled mystic was making a table. The air smelled of freshly cut wood. The symbolism of that was not lost on Jarad. He sneered inwardly.
Velisarius glanced up from his work. He looked younger than Jarad had expected. His long hair fell in a plait over one shoulder. ‘This is a surprise,’ he said to Lianvis. ‘You’re not usually about so early.’
‘I’ve brought somehar to meet you,’ Lianvis said. ‘This is Jarad.’
‘Ah,’ said Velisarius, in a tone that indicated he knew who Jarad was.
‘Will you look him over?’ Lianvis asked. ‘What happened to him… it caused injuries.’
Velisarius nodded. ‘I’ll take a look, if he wishes
it.’
‘You’re not a doctor,’ Jarad said, unable to keep the venom from his voice.
‘No,’ Velisarius agreed. ‘I was a second year medical student.’
Jarad grimaced. ‘Oh. Okay.’
Velisarius went to wash his hands at the sink at the back of the room. ‘What were you before?’ he asked.
‘Still at school,’ Jarad said. ‘We were raided. Only five of us survived inception.’
‘I was taken because I was stupid enough to walk around at night on my own,’ Velisarius said. ‘Still, it was what was meant to be. Will you undress and lie down on my bed? This won’t take a moment. I can tell from looking at you that the damage was not too great.’ He smiled. ‘I mean, physically.’
‘You didn’t study psychiatry, then?’ Jarad said, unzipping the front of his uniform.
‘Sadly, no,’ Velisarius said, ‘although there are many hara who need it. Lianvis, go and find somehar who can make us tea.’
Lianvis, who still stood at the threshold, departed without a word.
Jarad lay down on the bed. ‘I’m not sure about this, but I guess I want to know as well. Can you really tell from looking at me how bad it is?’
Velisarius nodded. ‘I can tell a lot from a simple glance, yes. I read auras.’
‘Of course you do.’ Jarad raised his knees. He felt vulnerable, embarrassed.
Velisarius put a hand on Jarad’s brow and a soothing cool wave of energy passed from his fingers. ‘Relax,’ Velisarius said. ‘I’m a healer.’
‘I can feel that,’ Jarad said. He felt drowsy, as if the other har’s energy was anaesthetic. Velisarius’s gentle touch was also cool.
‘Hmm,’ Velisarius murmured.
‘What?’ Jarad raised his head to see Velisarius peering intently between his legs.
‘This will require a minor operation. I can do it now, if you like.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘You’ve healed all wrong.’
‘I knew it! I said to Viss I’d healed up.’
‘Well, not quite that bad,’ Velisarius said, ‘but I’ll need to make an incision.’
‘Maybe you should just leave it.’
Velisarius glanced up. ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.’
‘I mean it.’
‘I don’t have to be a psychiatrist to tell you that a har denying half of his being is unhealthy,’ Velisarius said. ‘Don’t move. I’ll be right back.’
Jarad led his head flop back and closed his eyes. He wasn’t afraid of pain. He was afraid of what he was, all the feelings he didn’t understand, that woman inside him.
Jarad rested in Velisarius’ room for most of the day, lulled by the sound of a saw through wood, the hammering of nails. Lianvis sat on the floor beside him and read a book. Jarad dozed, drifting in and out of consciousness. One time he woke up weeping; it was as if some other personality was living in his body. Velisarius had packed the wound, and now Jarad’s lower body throbbed in pain, as sensitive nerves protested at the intrusion. Lianvis said nothing but put his hands on Jarad’s belly. Healing warmth flowed from his fingers.
‘You see,’ Lianvis said softly. ‘We can be different. You’ll heal quickly.’
By evening, Jarad felt more or less normal. He ached slightly, but it wasn’t too much to tolerate.
‘Be thankful for your new physiology,’ Velisarius told him. ‘You’ll be as good as new in a day or so.’
‘Lianvis said we should talk,’ Jarad said.
Velisarius smiled. ‘I hope we will. Come back any time.’
He was not touting for converts, then.
Outside, night had come. The sky was clearer than it had been for a while. The moon was just past full. Lianvis and Jarad walked through the narrow backstreets, with high walls to either side. They went to the area known as City Zoo, where abandoned warehouses had been turned into nightclubs. Loud music boomed from every open doorway, and the light within those places was red, turquoise, livid green. They were in search of Wraxilan, and Lianvis knew his favoured haunts.
This was the territory of the Uigenna, the largest and most powerful Wraeththu tribe, into which Jarad had been incepted. Exotic hara, clad in their strangest costumes, lined the streets, eyeing up the competition and the talent. The wind carried litter and sighs. Huge, scrawny alley cats lithed along the sidewalk, glancing from left to right for adversaries. Jarad could see that Lianvis was smiling: clearly he savoured this environment. Jarad simply thought it shallow and crass. Whatever initial attractions the Uigenna way of life had had for him, he’d quickly grown to despise it. Most hara he’d met were stupid, posturing fools.
The smoke of dry ice billowed out from the clubs, pungent with the smell of sweat and incense. Lianvis turned into one of the open doorways, pausing only to make sure that Jarad was still following. Two tall hara, whose faces were tattooed with curling black patterns, stood aside to let them through, nodding a greeting to Lianvis as they did so.
The light inside was crimson and it was difficult to see much through the smoky atmosphere. A long bar that ran down the side of the main room served lethal hooch that was brewed in the cellars below. This noxious liquor was flavoured with various fruits and caramel, and coloured with livid food dyes, which tended to stain the teeth. Heavy industrial dub pulsed from the immense sound system, and the entire space was one enormous dance floor, filled with gyrating bodies.
Jarad looked back; the street seemed very far away. He had been here before. He’d met friends here often. Strange, he couldn’t remember some of their faces now.
There was a mezzanine gallery above the dancers, and Lianvis led Jarad to the metal stairs that led to it. Up there, hara were lounging on cushions, smoking marijuana in tall pipes.
Tiny spotlights picked out various revellers and in the light of one of them sprawled Wraxilan, the Lion of Oomar, and leader of this phyle of the greater tribe of Uigenna. He was magnificent, like a dream of androgyny made flesh. His wild blond hair looked almost white. He lay on his nest of cushions, his head thrown back, eyes closed; a plume of smoke emanated from his pursed lips. His perfect arms were covered in tattooed serpents, some of which had the head of a lion. Wraxilan was neither shallow nor crass. He was, however, dangerous, brutal and merciless. He had the murderous impulses of a psychotic man and the cold vindictive zeal of a paranoid woman. Jarad had always avoided him, kept his head down. There were privileges to being in Wraxilan’s inner cabal, obviously, but he was quick to take offence, and those who fell out of favour sometimes disappeared.
Jarad hung back while Lianvis approached the phylarch. A group of twenty of so hara sat around him, and they now appraised Jarad with cool or suspicious gazes.
After Lianvis had spoken, Wraxilan sat up and stared directly at Jarad, who made a gesture of respect by touching his brow. It was impossible to converse over the music, so Wraxilan got to his feet and gestured they should go through a door behind him. Jarad’s heart was beating fast. His mouth was dry and his wound began to throb once more, making his belly feel hot.
Beyond the doorway was a narrow, dimly lit corridor. Wraxilan led his companions to another room. He opened a door to reveal three hara experimenting in dim light with some sort of drug: a pale green powder they were rubbing into each other’s eyes.
‘Out!’ Wraxilan said and the room’s occupants gathered up their equipment and hurried away.
There were cushions on the floor in here also, and Wraxilan sat down. He gestured for Lianvis and Jarad to do likewise. ‘So,’ he said, ‘the wanderer returns.’
Jarad, lost for words, raised his hands briefly, then let them fall back into his lap.
‘Drink?’ Wraxilan asked. He pulled a flask from the pocket of his brushed leather shirt.
‘Thanks.’ Jarad took it, swigged a mouthful of sweet fiery liquor. He handed the flask to Lianvis.
‘It’s good that Viss found you,’ Wraxilan said to Jarad. ‘You shouldn’t have left us. After what happened, you should have
come straight to me.’
‘At the time, I wasn’t thinking straight,’ Jarad said carefully. ‘Also, you were out of the city and I was in fear for my life.’
Wraxilan nodded. ‘Understandable. I was watching you, Jarad, sizing you up. It annoyed me when you left.’
‘I had no idea.’
‘No.’ Wraxilan gestured emphatically. ‘Well, I’ll get to the point. I need hara like you. There are too many fools. They’re no use to me. They’re the sheep. I want wolves.’
‘Hmm,’ murmured Jarad.
‘It all bores you, doesn’t it?’ Wraxilan said. ‘I like that. The ones who attacked you didn’t like it at all. They wanted to bring you down a bit, make you know your place. But you just walked away. I wasn’t happy about that.’
‘What do you want me to do for you?’ Jarad asked.
‘Help me do what has to be done,’ Wraxilan replied. ‘Organise our phyle. See to training, organise raids, that sort of thing. We can’t hide in the ruins forever. We have to take this city, and every other city. Humanity’s time is done.’
‘Big plans,’ Jarad said. ‘Is this under Archon Manticker’s direction?’
A flicker flashed across Wraxilan’s eyes at the mention of the tribe leader. It was no secret Wraxilan coveted Manticker’s power. Such was the way of the ambitious protégé. Manticker had incepted Wraxilan, and once they had been close. ‘We all do what is best for our tribe,’ Wraxilan answered.
Jarad nodded. ‘Of course. But what will your other hara think about my place in your scheme?’
Wraxilan gestured carelessly with one hand. ‘Don’t worry about what hara think of you. They won’t dare to touch you again.’
‘OK,’ Jarad said. Here was another thing he really had no choice over. ‘Whatever you want.’
Wraxilan laughed, rather uncertainly. ‘You puzzle me. I expected you to haggle over terms.’
‘No,’ Jarad said. ‘Your terms are clear. Your protection will be useful. No doubt I still have enemies.’
‘I like you,’ Wraxilan said. ‘You talk straight. No bullshit. That’s good.’ He paused. ‘What do you want me to do with your attackers now?’
Jarad paused for a moment. One thing he was sure of was that turning up again and causing trouble or drama amongst hara who most likely hated him was unwise. Best to keep a low profile. ‘What’s done is done,’ he said eventually. ‘If they try anything again, it might be a different matter.’
Paragenesis: Stories of the Dawn of Wraeththu Page 36