Julia’s Kale Feoer (Dreams Skin pulses. Pores sweat. A fever rages. A homeless man collapses inanalkyway , falling beslde arustingdumpster. A few feet away, passers-by ignore everything, rendering a dying man effectivelyinvisibk. Thebody liesonthewetasphalt. Rainhas beenfalling fromthegrayskyforhoursnow. Gregorisonly sixteen, but thestreet has been his home for overa year. He’s lived in the city of Seattle aU his life, but m u , he’s about to die there. Nooneoffershelp. Evmonagoodday ,fewpeoplewilllook him in the eye. Strangers don’t come near him, afraid that he’ll begfor change. Desperation led him to the alleyway; starvation brought him to an open dumpster; misfortune rendered him unconscious. And w , today, another “problem with the homeless” is about to be solved, awayfrom the scornfulglance ofthe wealthy andsignificant. As the rain soaks into Gregor’s amy surplus jacket, his body is wracked with pain. He ties to reason through what happened, searching desperately fur an explanation. He rem’embers rummaging through the trash; aglimpse of apacket offood; something quick and deadly sinking tiny yellow teeth into his skin. A brief thought: Did something bite me? His drugged brain reels, grasping for the truth like a drowning man. Hecouldhave beeninfectedwithjustnboutanything. Another thought: Maybe I could make it to the clinic before it closes. False hope dies quickly. Gregor’s health hasn’t been too good; he’s spent too much time there already. His medication has run out. Maybe whatever infection he had before today is growing worse. A s h a q pain in his head silences all speculation.. . and then the voices start. Chapter One: Ratkin Legends i i i I I L f He’s not even sure what the words mean; they’re all m e n s e . The sounds between thenoisesareunnerving. Chittering. Whufing. Scratching. The sound of a h a n d teeth grinding. The sound of thousands of tiny claws scratching, trying to break throughfrom God knows where. Noise and pain consume his mind. The rain beats down on his skin like a thousand tiny paws scrabblingat him. Muscles tense up on the back of his neck as he rolls into a heap of trash. The last sensation Gregurfeels before he falls into unconsciousnessisn’tpuinful.. . it’salmostsweet. Asdarknessfallsonhissenses, he feels the scampering offour tiny feet across his neck.. . . Julia’s Kale A young woman kneels beside a half-conscious man. She bandages his suppuratingwounds , searchesfor his identification halfheartedly. Thepassers-by onthestreet, tenfeetaway , keep theireyes focused straight ahead, struggling to ignore everything, straining to rendersufferinginvisible. One oftheir own has beenabandoned; the rest of them must survive. The woman’s cool blue eyes stare down at the sweating body. She regards him with kindness, with sympathy. Dragging the body out of the rain, she takes shelter in a doorway a few feet away. There’s a pile of dry cardboard; she fashions it into a crude shelter. Sheintonesabriefprayer, andsoon, the winddoesn’tbiteatherskin anymore. The rain doesn’t batter at the young man’s fish. The child’s open sores weep for attention. The first of the buboes are taking shape, round and surging with brackish fluids. As she adjusts the bandages, she prattles to the shivering body. “Sssssh. It’s all right, child. It’s all right. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. Be still, and I’ll start cleaning you up. Youneed to focus on the sound of my voice. I know you can hear me, child. Can you remember my name?Listen to your blood.. . you’ll hear it. I can remember your name. I can remember the names of all my brothers and sisters; you will, too. It’s in our blood. Listen. That’s the rhythm that pounds in your nerves. The thin strain of memory in your veins.” She falls silent, and Gregor’s chapped lips try to form u name: J-U-L-I-A. Ascratchingsound; ahiss ofair; achuckkundacough. “Yes, that’s it. Julia. Claws in the darkness. I’ve been through this, too. The visions haven’t started for you yet. If you fall unconscious again, we might lose you, child, bG I’ll keep you awake. Don’t worry, my first Infection was just as bad. When I close my eyes, I can still see the endless tunnels my ancestors burrowed in the spirit world. I am Claws-in-the-Dark, a mystic, a child of your family. Welcome to the world of the rats.” Gregor sigh. She’s insane, he thinks briefly. Cute, but insane. Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess ... He laughs again, and coughs. “We are all Mother’s children. Let the fever run its course, and you’ll understand. While you’re fighting it, I’ll tell you a little story. Would you like that? Stay awake! That’s something else your blood should remember: stories. Your mother, if she had but the thinnest strain of Rat blood within her, no doubt told you stories when you were small, and you listened. Listen to the sound of my voice.” Gregor is focused on two words: Rat blood? Nonsense. She’s speakingnonsense. Fairy d e s . Her ownlittle world. Thenhe begins to fade into a warm fever dream, and the first of the stories begins. “When the world was young, beasts ran free throughout the world. In the beginning, the Earth Mother breathed life into everything: the birds in the heavens, the fish in the seas, and all creatures that walked or crawled or swam or flew. And from all this chaos, one creature evolved to live in the center of it all: the smartest, the boldest, the most dangerous creature on Mother’s world. That creature was the most intelligent, for it could rise up on two legs and say: I am human. “And in the beginning, Mother looked down and blessed the bravest and wisest Women and Men, making them guardians of Her world. Their wisdom came from their affinity to the artimals She had created. These Blessed Ones were neither fully Beasts nor fully Men. They wandered until they found the sacred places of the world, and cared for them as they cared for each other. The rest of the humans ran free, like the beasts in the fields, but the Blessed Ones acted with Her guidance. “IknowourMotherbymanynames-&Goddess, theEarth Mother, Gaia. You may call Her what you will. No matter what name you choose, you will know that She watches us from every tree and leaf, every river and cloud, from the heavens above and the asphalt below. In Her wisdom, She blessed the Changing Breeds so that they could protect Her creation. She blessed us with Her strength, so that we could heal quickly from injury and disease. She blessed us with the Changing Ways, so that we could ...
Ratkin · Werewolf