The Wraeththu Chronicles by Storm Constantine, Paul Cashman Read Free Book Online Page A

will all be over and you'll know everything you want to. Now, you have an hour or so yet. Do you want to see Cal before I take you away?" His voice was less harsh.
     
    I glanced up at him; a face inscrutable with restrained amusement. "Yes . , . please."
     
    He laughed then and patted my shoulder, reaching for another cigarette. "Treat him gently, he's as nervous as you are."
     
    Yes, I thought, probably because he knows what is going to happen to me.
     
    Cal slunk in like a guilty dog and Seel left us alone. When our eyes met it was like being scalded and we both looked away quickly.
     
    "I brought you into this," Cal said with a grimace and a weak attempt at humor.
     
    As usual, all the wrong things started pouring from my mouth. "I don't know what's happening, but the way everyone's carrying on, it must be worse than I think. Unhealthy for me, anyway!"
     
    Cal sat down beside me. "Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he profaned. I had never heard him swear before; he was so fastidious. "Oh, God, I don't care what the law says. I'm not supposed to tell you anything but, yes, in a way, it is unhealthy. You must have heard the stories; some of them even died... It's not all exaggeration, you know."
     
    "Oh Cal!" I gasped. "Thanks! Thanks!" I put my head in my hands, arrowed by shock. Possible death was a consequence of becoming Wraeththu I had not considered.
     
    "You had to know. There is a risk, but I think knowing that will make you stronger. You are strong, Pell." I looked at him through my fingers. He was sallow with worry. "It's necessary," he said. "We cannot afford to carry dead wood."
     
    "I know." I straightened my back and closed my eyes. I could feel my hair, soon to be gone, heavy on my shoulders; the first time I had even noticed its weight. "I want to be Wraeththu," I murmured.
     
    "I want you to be as well," said Cal and inevitably we fumbled toward each other, Nearly every time we had touched, I had clung to him like a mewling brat. Tonight was no exception. He wound his fingers in my hair and stroked my neck. I could feel him sighing. His smell was clean and musky, like new-mown hay.
     
    "You've only known me a week, or so," I said.
     
    "A week, a lifetime; what difference?" He held me so tightly, I nearly choked.
     
    Seel walked in and found us like that, just holding onto each other as if for the last time. He passed no comment, but he obviously did not trust Cal not to blab everything to me. We had been alone for about ten minutes.
     
    Just before midnight, Seel stood up and signaled to me. "Now, Pell," he said.
     
    "Just bring him back in one piece," Cal told him, not smiling,
     
    "Oh come on, Calanthe, my dear, you'll be there, watching, I know you will." Seel started herding me toward the door. As we left, he called back over his shoulder. "Just start thinking about aruna, Cal!" And he laughed. "What's that?" I asked him, not really expecting an answer. "The finest time of your life, little Pellaz. If only I could be you." A sentiment I was not averse to sharing, adding drily, "If I get through the Harhune, of course."
     
    Seel made a small noise of annoyance. "You're not safe for a minute, are you. I might have known he'd tell you something. Cal's so emotional, I sometimes think he's still half human."
     
    There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality. When you are young, it is so easy to blunder into situations when misplaced heroism is no substitute for good sense. As I followed Seel to the Forale-house, I started doubting. I had no idea what they would do to me. I had given myself into the hands of strangers with no assurance that they were concerned about my well-being. Cal had glamorized me. His wistful and haunting beauty, his mysterious and perhaps violent past, appealed to me, an inexperienced and immature boy, as make-believe superheroes had appealed to young boys throughout the ages. As much as I realized my impulsive folly,