Cory Putman Oakes - The Veil

THE
VEIL

THE
VEIL

Cory Putman Oakes

ISBN-10: 0-9829131-6-8
ISBN-13: 978-0-9829131-6-1

www.octanepress.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

For Mark:

My husband, my love, and my partner in all things

Preface

H OW WILL IT HAPPEN? I asked. I mean, if they decide to

They wont, Luc said flatly.

But if they do, I persisted. How do they do it, exactly?

Luc took my hands and squeezed them between his; for a moment, his deep green eyes were fiercer than I had ever seen them before. I wont let anything happen to you, Addy. Thats a promise. You have nothing to worry about.

Okay. But theoretically, how would it happen?

Luc gave me an exasperated look, but I took my hands back and crossed my arms over my chest. I was absolutely determined not to let this go. I needed to knowI deserved to knowwhat the worst possible outcome of my situation was.

As I watched him, frowning to himself and inwardly debating whether or not to answer me, I made myself a promise: I was not going to panic. No matter what he said, no matter how bad it was, I was going to remain calm. If only to prove to him that I could.

He sighed. Burning, he said finally.

Burning ! I very nearly shrieked, totally forgetting my promise of approximately two seconds ago. You mean, as in at the stake ?

Yes, he said.

I couldnt believe it.

Do you mean, I began, certain I must have heard him wrong, when the Annorasi decide to execute someone they burn them at the stake ? Like in medieval Europe, or some horror film?

Luc closed for his eyes for a moment, and I could tell that he was already deeply regretting having answered my question.

You have to understand, he said slowly. The Annorasi very rarely execute anyone. Most of us dont believe in the taking of life, human or otherwise. In our world, death is an extremely rare punishment.

I would hope so, I mumbled. I was trying very hard to keep my thudding heart from bursting right through the front of my chest. But burning ?

Luc shrugged. Historically, in your world and in mine, execution has always been just as much about making a statement to others as it is about punishing the guilty party. You have to admit, burning someone at the stake makes quite a statement. But execution is only imposed for the most extreme crimes. Things like mass murder, genocide, or the higher forms of treason.

Or, in my case, just being born.

Luc took my hands again and forced me to look at him. If I really thought it was something you needed to worry about, I wouldnt have told you, he said. You believe me, dont you, Addy? Promise me you are not going to worry about this.

I nodded, numbly.

Out loud, he insisted. Say you promise

I promise, I said quickly. My voice sounded oddly flat, not like my own at all.

That was the first time I ever lied to Luc.

Precalculus

I T S HARD TO KNOW EXACTLY where to begin a story like mine. I could do as David Copperfield did and begin with my birth (who can argue with Dickens?), but theres a lot of boring stuff between then and now I doubt youd be interested in.

I could start with the day my parents died, or the day not long after that when Gran and I left England and moved to Novato, a small town just outside San Francisco in northern California. But I was only six years old when all of that happened, and Im still a bit fuzzy on the details.

I could tell you all about my primary school years, my middle school years, and my first two years at Marin County High School, but to tell you the truth, nothing particularly exciting happened during those years of my life eithercertainly nothing youd want to waste your time reading about. I was a pretty normal kid; I was rather depressingly uninteresting, actually.

So I think Ill start on the day things started to get interesting for me: my seventeenth birthday. The day I got my first glimpse of the Annorasi world.

The day Lucas Stratton spoke to me for the very first time.

But more about him, later...

My seventeenth birthday started out like any other day. I woke up to the static blare of my alarm clock, which, as usual, seemed to be between stations, despite the fact that I set the dial carefully the night before.

I showered quickly so the bathroom wouldnt have a chance to fog up. I spent a little bit more time than usual blow-drying my shoulder-length, strawberry blonde hair, which was more strawberry than blonde now that the bleaching summer sun was a distant memory. When my hair was reasonably straight and my face properly moisturized, I threw on my usual jeans and, after a moment of thought, my new white sweater. Id bought it over a month ago with the rest of my back-to-school things, but I had yet to wear it for some reason. I wasnt saving it for anything in particular, and since it was my birthday, it seemed as good a day as any to try it out.

When I opened my bedroom door, I was immediately stared down by eleven pairs of impatient, hungry eyesthe same eyes that greeted me every morning.

Grans eleven cats followed me, like a long, furry cape, downstairs and to the back of the house where their food and water bowls were lined up neatly against the laundry room wall. I dutifully scooped food into each bowl, then made my way back down the line with a bottle of tap water, stepping carefully to avoid the tails and paws of the breakfasting cats, and gave them each a bit of fresh water.

Only Rialto, the oldest of the cats and Grans favorite, paused to thrust his enormous, black and white head underneath my hand in thanks for the meal.

I didnt bother with breakfast for myself. I stuck my head in the fridge only to grab the bag lunch Gran left for me every morning.

This particular morning, there was a perfect red rose taped to the side of the bag, along with a note:

Thats my name, by the wayAddy. Addy Russell. And yes, before you even ask, Addy is my full first name. Its not a nickname, and its not short for anything. At least, it wasnt back then. Addy has always been my name, even back before my last name was Russell.

But Im getting ahead of myself.

I tucked my lunch, rose and all, carefully into my black messenger bag, then grabbed my coat from where I had left it on the couch in the living room and headed out the front door of the house.

You know that house on your block, the dark, spooky one with the big iron fence around it and the overgrown front yard? The one little kids dare each other to approach on Halloween, and where the strange noises come from? I live in that house.

I use the word house loosely here. Its actually more like a mansion, although all of the rooms in the east wing have been boarded off for as long as I can remember. The only rooms we actually use are the ones in the west wing, but thats plenty of space for the thirteen of us (me, Gran, and the cats). Its exactly the sort of house youd expect someone with eleven cats to live in.

Because of the enormous house, a lot of people assumed Gran was rich. I couldnt have said for sure, not back then, but what I did know was that there always seemed to be more than enough money for all of the things she and I (and the cats) needed. She probably could have afforded to hire someone to spruce up the front yard and give the house a fresh coat of paint, but those kinds of things never occurred to her. Money and appearances didnt matter to Gran.