Oh god, no, it couldn’t be! Had I killed him? I pulled him to my chest, sobbing. Please no. Don’t leave me. Not after all this. In terror, my mind walked away on dark paths.
I found myself standing at the door of the house looking out into the stoic ranks of trees, the towering, primeval forest, and feeling a terrible pain in my heart. This was the moment I had foreseen and now I understood its meaning. I had reached the low point of my life. I loved him. How tragic to discover it at the moment that he was lost to me. Everything I’d known or thought I’d known had been a lie. I was broken. My whole body ached and I was tired beyond imagining. What should I do now? Bury him? Then, try to find the mythical Thiede? Was the transformation complete? Dare I look at myself to see? Or should I just get out Sligo’s pistol and end it?
There! I saw a faint shimmer among the trees. Rapidly, it approached and I could discern a being of light. An angel? A god? Was I dead too, then? It came closer, gossamer robes floating about a tall, slender body with a face of stunning beauty, surrounded by braided ropes of hair, gray in the moonlight. He or she? I couldn’t tell. It stopped about twenty feet away from me, cocked its head to one side.
“Hello there Janus, god of beginnings,” it said in a surprisingly silky voice with echoing undertones. “How fitting that you stand in a doorway, examining both your past and your future.”
“Who are you?” I asked, amazed.
“Can’t you guess? I am Thiede.”
I stood there gawping like a rube until he said, “I imagine you have questions. Aren’t you going to ask me in?”
I made a sweeping, sardonic gesture with my arm towards the door. He seemed to float up the steps, which made me doubt my sanity. At this point my hold on it was tenuous at best.
“Thiede, you’re too late. Kithara is dead.” My voice caught in my throat.
He walked up to the couch, bent down, and touched Kithara’s face. A golden glow issued from his hand, passed into Kithara’s skin. In the firelight, Thiede’s hair was indeed a glorious, coppery red. He raised his eyes. “No, the spark of life is still within him. You gave up too easily, Janus. You must blow on the embers and bring him back to life.”
“Well, how the fuck should I do that? I must say Thiede, now that you’re here, I have a notion to give you a piece of my mind.”
He laughed. “Another time perhaps. Have you heard the story of Snow White?”
“Yeah, and her seven dwarves. What of it?”
“How did the Prince bring her brought back to life after she bit the poisoned apple?”
“With a kiss?”
“Just so.”
“All I have to do is kiss him?”
“I would be quick about it if I were you. The candle of his spirit is nearly burned out.”
Warily, I approached. Thiede moved away and I knelt next to Kithara, looked into that marble face with the delicate lashes lying so still against his cheek. With my finger I traced the perfect arch of his brows, then down along his nose with the slight bump in the centre, to those curving lips, so soft. He was beauty incarnate. To kiss him seemed like a sacred act. I touched my own lips, which still felt swollen. I knew I looked like a monster. This was surely a case of Beauty and the Beast rather than Snow White and Prince Charming. I sighed, bent over him and lightly touched our mouths together. It was like kissing a corpse.
“Don’t give up,” Thiede said. “You are stronger than you know, Janus. Give him your breath. You are har now. You must think like one. Think magically.”
I forced Kithara’s mouth open with mine and huffed a long, slow breath into him, along with a fervent prayer for life. Somewhere I heard a clock ticking. I breathed into him again. Come on, Kithara. Suddenly, his back arched and he gasped in a lungful of air. I gave him my breath again and he returned it, the sensation like inhaling choi smoke. Now my senses seemed all mixed up. I was tasting colours and smells and sounds: fuchsia and emerald, the fragrance of orange blossoms, a meadowlark’s song. He opened his eyes and looked at me, dazed.
“You’re alive!” I cried. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” I hugged him to my chest, half dragging him off the couch.
“Ow! Fuck Jareth, you’ll crush me to death,” Kithara gasped.
“You deserve it. You scared me to pieces. How is your back?”
“It hurts. Mmmmph,” he said when I kissed him again. Our breath seemed to pour together, mixing in the cauldron of our lungs into some kind of crazy flavour that just got tastier and better. I felt ecstatic.
“What is that sensation?” I asked. “Am I still drugged?”
“No,” Thiede replied, amusement colouring his voice. “That was your first harish kiss. It’s called sharing breath. Not too bad, huh?”
“Har? I’m Wraeththu now?” I cried. “Is that althaia thing over? Oh, thank god!”
Thiede chuckled. “Yes, you have nearly finished the transformation, although the effect would be significantly improved by a bath. Now, before I send you kids off to complete Janus’ change, I have some things to tell you.”
Painfully, Kithara wrenched himself upright. He looked daggers at Thiede. “So you decided to show up at the eleventh hour. I could have used your help weeks ago, when they first captured me. I’ve been through hell, Thiede. No thanks to you.”
“It took me a while to find out where you were,” Thiede said mildly. “View this as a learning experience, Kithara, something to humble that massive ego, or if you prefer, a vision quest to obtain the higher caste you now have. And you’ve accomplished something else of importance. You found Janus and now you’ll bring him back to join us.”
“Did you know all this ahead of time?”
“No, but I know it now,” Thiede said. “Is there any wine around here?” With a rustle of garments, he composed himself in a leather chair near the fire.
“Wine? Yes, I saw some earlier in the pantry,” I said, feeling dazed. What was Thiede? Clearly, he was more than Wraeththu. Was he a god? As I looked at a rack of wine bottles, I could hear the buzz of Kithara’s voice, still angry. “I have a massive ego!” he was saying. “You shithead! You just don’t like competition.”
I had to smile. Was this how we talked to our gods? If so, I approved. I selected a bottle and then went hunting for a corkscrew.
Thiede’s words weren’t audible but they sounded soothing. The exchange went on for a while until Kithara’s angry tone quieted. Then Thiede called, “Janus, is there anything to eat in there? Kithara is hungry.”
My stomach woke up and snarled. I realized that I was starving too. It had been days since I’d kept anything down. Fortunately, the larder seemed well stocked. I opened up two cans of soup that I set simmering on the stove.
When I returned with wine and three glasses, I found Thiede sitting on the couch with Kithara lying stretched out, his head resting in Thiede’s lap. Kithara’s eyes were closed and he looked quietly content while Thiede fondly stroked his hair as if he was a cat. I felt a flare of jealousy. Thiede’s elite, indeed. Were they lovers? Sounds buzzed in my head, as if they were speaking to each other on a channel that I couldn’t hear.
Feeling like an intruder, I set down the wine. “Excuse me. I think I’ll clean up this mess.” I pulled the disgusting shower curtain along the floor, out the back door, and dumped it in the yard, figuring that would be enough for now, I’d clean it in the morning. I couldn’t think ahead any further than that. I looked at the forest in the spectral light, feeling a strange sense of well-being as if I was pulling energy from the earth up into my body. With considerable trepidation, I looked down at myself, nearly naked, wearing only my grimy, stained briefs. My arms and legs appeared normal to me, pale in the moonlight. No sign of the ravages of althaia. I looked at my left arm. The burn was gone. Gone! I felt my face. Both sides felt normal. I couldn’t detect the rough ridges of the burn, although that side seemed a little tender. I flew into the house and ran to the bathroom. With eyes as big as boiled eggs, I stared at myself in the mirror.
It w
as a fucking miracle!
My face was whole again! More than whole. It was exquisite! This couldn’t possibly be me! I was so used to seeing the hideous burn that I hardly noticed my good side. Now it was as if some ideal version of that unburned side had taken over my whole face so that even though I looked like myself, I was a stranger to my own eyes. I had become one of those boys I used to pine after in the zines - a mix of masculine angularity and wide-eyed, full-lipped feminine softness. My skin glowed as if I’d been out in the wind, especially on the burned side. When I turned my face to the left, the only remnant of the burn was a thick, silvery scar slashed across my cheek where the bone used to be visible. It gave me a dashing look as if I’d been in a swordfight. My eyes were the same elongated almond shape with their fringe of dark lashes, but now the colour had intensified from hazel to a brilliant emerald green. This couldn’t be me, could it? Was I dreaming?
Thiede was right. I seriously needed a shower. I was covered in dirt and blood and my dark hair was greasy with whatever nasty stuff my body had exuded. That alone convinced me this wasn’t a hallucination. I grabbed soap and a washcloth and cleaned up the worst of it. All the while, I kept turning this way and that, probing the burned side with my fingers and marvelling at how supple and smooth it felt compared to the rigid, pitted mess it had been. If only I had known, I would have sought out the Wraeththu long ago.
Then I heard Thiede’s voice speaking in my head. You can admire yourself all you want later, Janus. I have something to tell you before I depart. I can’t maintain this too much longer.
Maintain this? Now what was he talking about? I came out into the living room to see Thiede seated in the leather chair opposite Kithara.
“Enter a new har!” Thiede said flinging his arms out in a grand gesture. He winked at Kithara. “Now tell me, Kithara, that you regret this little adventure.”
Kithara was staring at me, open-mouthed. “Wow,” he said. “Shit, Jareth, you’re, well, ‘stunning’ doesn’t do it justice.”
A tingling wave of pleasure surged through me, settling in my loins. I hadn’t had the nerve to look down there yet. Wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“Come have some soup, Janus,” Thiede said. “Both of you need to take it easy for a while. I want you to eat and gain strength.”
“Yes, mother,” Kithara said.
I sat down on the couch next to Kithara, who handed me a steaming bowl of soup. Thiede cradled a wine glass in one hand, looking at us much as a sculptor might admire his latest creation. “I always enjoy watching the birth of a new har,” he said. “It gets me right here.” He thumped his chest with the side of his fist. A log shifted, throwing sparks.
“Tell him,” Kithara said.
I looked at both their faces. Kithara’s eyes flicked away guiltily. Thiede crossed his legs and settled himself. “Well, Janus, as you know, we are a new race and do not yet understand the extent and limits of our powers. We’ve learned a great deal, but there is so much more to know. A good strategist must know his capabilities. We must go cautiously and test, experiment. It is unfortunate but inevitable that some may get hurt in the course of this self-discovery.”
“What has this got to do with me?” I asked. This sounded suspiciously like some kind of justification for atrocity. I sipped a spoonful of the soup, vegetable beef. It was the most delicious thing I’d eaten in forever. Not standing on ceremony, I tipped up the bowl and drank it down. I could feel strength flowing into my body.
Thiede tapped lacquered nails on the arm of the chair. “This is about your parents and your disfigurement, Janus. I feel that you should know the truth, even if you hate us for it. Only then can you complete the healing process. So here it is. Initially through accident and then by experimentation, we discovered that our blood could transform young men into Wraeththu. We found that it didn’t work on women or older men. That knowledge came painfully. We didn’t know how young we could incept a boy. We didn’t know much at all. We still don’t. My acolytes spent much time searching for those with potential to improve our stock. One day in a park, I saw you and your brother and sensed that you both were special with the potential to develop occult powers, so we came in the night to take you.”
“My brother, Jordan? Is he alive?”
“Yes. His name is Arahal now,” Thiede said. “If Kithara is my left hand, Arahal is my right.” Kithara nodded at that.
I sat up suddenly. This was extraordinary news. “Can I see him?”
Thiede smiled. “If you come back to Carmine City, most assuredly.”
“And what of my parents?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, Janus. They perished in the fire.”
“So, there was a fire?”
“Yes, not intentional on our part and it wasn’t what affected you. We succeeded in capturing you along with your brother, but there was a gun battle with the police and I was hit in the arm causing blood to spray on you.” He pulled up a sleeve revealing some thick white scars on his upper arm. “My blood has, shall we say, rather unusual properties. You lost consciousness. In the confusion, we thought you were dead. My error, Janus. We were outnumbered and had to run. It was only years later that I learned you had lived. Apparently, your body had begun althaia, but your system didn’t absorb enough blood to complete the transformation. Instead the althaia was arrested at a preliminary stage, making it appear as if you had been burned. An interesting result and not something I would have anticipated.”
“Shit,” I said, stunned. Memory began to return, in terrifying bits. A tall figure pulling me along as we ran. The cracking reverberation of gunfire. A sudden splatter of liquid scorching my body. Screaming. Shadows filled with flames. Waking to hear a solemn white-coated doctor explaining that my parents were dead and that I would carry burn scars for life. I ground my teeth. “You left me for dead? But then once you found out what happened, why didn’t you come and finish the process?”
Thiede shrugged. “Other priorities intervened, and in any case it would have been a risky venture. I figured we’d bide our time. Perhaps it was a good thing in the long run, although it may not appear that way to you. Like a sword, you’ve been tempered in the fire of adversity. You do not yet know your own strength, Janus, but I’ve been following your flight from the circus. You’ve done well. You will make a fine addition to our tribe, if you choose to join us.”
“Do I have a choice?” I growled. “And why are you calling me by my stage name?”
Thiede smiled. “Our souls progress in power by choosing a path through life’s thorns. Whether or not the choice is real or illusory is a philosophical issue. Does the butterfly’s wingbeat change the future? For myself, I prefer to think of it as playing chess with the universe. As for your name, when we complete the transition to Wraeththu, we usually take on new names as a symbol of rebirth. In your case, the name Janus is appropriate. The reason why is something you must work out for yourself. Welcome to your new life, Janus. I expect great things from you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to run. Come and share breath with me before I go.”
I was in shock and couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. We both stood. He took me in his arms and kissed me. His body felt like malleable iron. His breath flowed like fog into my lungs, spreading throughout my body, finishing with a crack of lightning. He shredded me.
Then, he did the same with Kithara, taking a long time about it, somewhat to my consternation. Thiede was the consummate seducer. When he was done, Kithara looked as dazed as I felt, but colour had returned to his face.
Thiede stepped away from us and said, “Now, I leave you with another question. Was I really here?” He smiled, sly as a cat. And then he winked out. It was as if his body suddenly attenuated into a thin line and then disappeared through some kind of dimensional doorway.
“Close your mouth, Janus.” Kithara laughed.
“What the hell was that?”
“I’ve given up trying to figure out Thiede. He’s a law unto himself,” Kithara replied.
/>
“He’s a bastard! Tell me I’m supposed to be happy about discovering that he’s responsible for my parents’ death, my brother’s abduction, and my horrid deformity. Healing me now is small return for all that he’s put me through!”
“Yes, that’s true,” Kithara said unexpectedly. “I’m not too thrilled about him abandoning me to a maniac with a cattle prod and a kink for hermaphrodites either. You have to understand, he’s not playing in the same sandbox as the rest of us. It’s not that he doesn’t care. He does, but he’s... well, it’s hard to explain. I love him and I hate him, but it makes no difference. He’s beyond my reach. So, here’s what I think. You can focus on your hatred and pain or you can move on and revel in your new body.”
It made a certain amount of sense. Kithara usually did. Besides, a terrible, aching need was building inside me. I moved into his embrace, feeling him mould against me. His blood thundered in my veins. We shared breath.
“Mmmm, that’s lovely,” Kithara sighed. “Remember what I said about needing aruna to make permanent the changes inside you?”
Aruna. The very name seemed to call me, beckoning with cool fingers. My insides were jangling, like cats climbing over each other in anticipation of dinner. “Harish sex. Yes, of course, how could I forget that?”
“Come.” He took my hand. “I’ll introduce you to the gift of the Wraeththu. This will make up for all that agony. I promise.”
Steaming hot water felt desperately good against my skin. The bathtub in the master bedroom was huge and fit both of us perfectly. I rested in Kithara’s arms as he washed my hair. He kept leaning over, sharing breath with me. It sent shivers throughout my being, as intoxicating as a hit of choi. I wanted him to keep doing that forever, but I was nervous. A virgin in every sense.
Paragenesis: Stories of the Dawn of Wraeththu Page 15
