Neophyte / Adept (15 page)

Now I began hyperventilating.

“Halsey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I said it as resolutely as possible. It was just
one night. “Let’s go shopping. Come on. This place is starting to smell like
BO.”

“You should be here when we all shift,” she said, and then
her frown became really pronounced. Was she crying?

“Lia, what’s wrong?” I said.

She shook her head when I came to her. We sat down on the
bottom bunk. I had my arm around her. She had her face in her hands.

“I can’t... anymore,” she whispered to me. “Ever since I got
here.”

“What do you mean you can’t? You can’t turn into a
werewolf?” I said.

She sniffed. “I can’t shift,” she said.

“Does Gaven know?”

“He says the Magic may be interfering. It’s not a case of
having been a werewolf for too long. I asked him to talk to some of the
Wiccans, but, you know,
hypothetically
.”

“And?”

“They said there’s never been a witch who’s both. At least
not for a while.
Over a century
, they
said.”

“You mean a witch and a Shifter, a Witch Shifter?” I said.

Lia nodded and then tried to get a hold of her emotions.

“Did they say if your Shifting ability will come back?” I
asked.

“They d-didn’t––k-k-know...” she said, and
started to blubber.

Some of the other werewolves came to look. I gave one of
them an angry look and kicked the door shut, but the sound dribbled out anyway.

“Lia, we’ll figure this out,” I said, “do you hear me? Just
don’t give up hope.”

She wiped away her tears, and then took a gigantic sniff.
“I’m okay,” she said. I saw her stand up and square her shoulders. She threw
her head back, and her dark-colored hair cascaded down her back. The next
thing, she was putting on her riding jacket. “I feel like going for a spin.
What do you say?” she said....

We returned that night with gowns we purchased from Via dei
Condotti. They cost a fortune!

It was amazing what it felt like to be back; like I had
never left Rome; but also, that I might never come back. Everything was
changing.
I
was changing. So was Lia.
I also got some jeans and stuff.

We had everything we needed to do our makeup and
hair––and
shoes
; Lia and
I got lots of shoes!

Chapter 15
– Party

Saturday, the day of the dance, dawned cold and dark. We had
been at the Gathering now for nearly a week. Tonight I would be attending my
first ball; the thought of it filled me with nerves, but they were good nerves.
Rumors swept through the Werewolf side of things, over who would be in
attendance. What Supernatural luminaries might we have the pleasure of getting
to know firsthand?

Lia was a bundle of feisty, maligned energy. She got up
early and by a stroke of genius had one of the Wiccan
witches––Gisela, I think her name was––who admitted us
into the Gathering, do a bit of voila-action upon the cubbyhole of a desk in
our room. It was transformed suddenly into a suitable place where we could put
on our faces––cosmetically-speaking. We now had a large diva
esque
makeup station with mirrors and
big pretty lights and another full-length mirror on the inside of the door. And
a sink. I watched the witch perform her spell––but however she did
it was beyond me. Lia decided to get to the bottom of it.

“So, Gisela, right? Just how fledged are you, anyway?”

Gisela’s nose wrinkled at being addressed. She was an arctic
blonde.

“You’re from the Covens, right?” persisted Lia.

“Yes,” said Gisela, as if she thought this might go on
longer, and was in a hurry to get away.

“What’s the matter, you don’t want to talk to us?” said Lia.
I sat up in my bed, holding a candle, watching her. There wasn’t enough room
for all of us to stand up.

Gisela said, “I am not supposed to offer my criticism or
support to the Wiccan Initiates––”

“We’re Neophytes now,” said Lia. She held up one finger.
“One day gone. One
year
to go. Then
I’ll be just like you. You are Adept?”

“I am not supposed to influence the decision of the
Council.”

“What Council? I thought we got to decide which House we
wanted to be in for ourselves,” said Lia.

“No.”

“No, we don’t, or no, you don’t know?”

I watched as Lia bullied Gisela out of the room. “No, you
don’t get to ask me that,” said Gisela.

Lia slammed the door in her face. She turned to me with a
triumphant smile, a little wistful for the unfortunate attitude of some of the
Wiccans. “I gotta say,” she said, “if it’s a choice between her and being a
werewolf... argh argh arwoo... I think I’ll keep the fleas. Don’t tell Vittoria
I said that though.
So
, you’ve been
quiet. Got a hot date?”

I blushed. She smiled at me mischievously. “It’s okay. You
don’t have to say. But you
do
have to
get in this chair. Come here,” she said, kicking it out for me. “Crawl your
skinny ass out of bed. We’ll have to work straight through breakfast, lunch, and
dinner. I tell you...” I crawled out of bed, and set the flickering candle on
the countertop. Lia and I proceeded to dump out all of our cosmetics onto the
table and sorted them. “I’ll be glad when we can just focus on the witchcraft,”
she said.

She looked at me in the mirror, taking stock of the “raw
goods,” as she called them. She ran the sink. “I need to wash your hair,” she
said. Her fingers were massaging my scalp. “That’s right. Good.” I had had
similar experiences basting turkeys before––except I was the
turkey. Lia frequently grabbed for her power tools like we were in the
motorcycle shop. She tweezed, plucked, and pinned...

I talked. I got her to open up to me more about her family’s
curse they had going on of being werewolves. “The
old
stories,” she frequently said. “According to the old
stories...”

I was more interested in now. “What’s it like?” I asked.

Lia thought a bit. My hair was in her hands. She yanked it
roughly about. When she talked she had to do it out of the side of her mouth,
because the other side was full of pins.

“Like wrapping your legs around a wild animal,” she said. “I
mean, you know, you have your Gambalunga. What’s it like when you put on that
helmet and start the engine?”

“Wonderful,” I said.

“But instead of being separate from it, it’s like you are
the thing. And there are all kinds of upsides.”

“Such as?” I said. I had already heard Ballard’s list of
werewolf powers, but I wanted Lia’s take.

“For starters, speed. Werewolves are fast. There’s also
werewolf constitutions. Eat what you want. Do what you want. I like hamburgers
and French fries, myself.”

As she talked, I saw a flicker in her eyes, the corners of
her mouth relaxed, and her eyelids half-closed––I could tell she
was thinking about it. It made me think about what it was like for her and
Gaven. I mean, they got to be this together, they got to be werewolves
together. They got to run in a pack. Something such as that would be a loss,
indeed, when it was gone.

“The thing is,” she said, “that a long time ago, it didn’t used
to go away, being a werewolf. I mean, there used to be stories. According to
them, if a werewolf abstained––attacked no human
being––then after a period of so many years, they would retire and
return to their former selves, presumably as humans, to live out the remainder
of their days. Which I’ve always thought was a kind of promised land. But that
was then. Now it isn’t so much a curse as a way of life. And I have to say,
once you’ve tasted it, it’s hard to imagine going back. I certainly can’t, and I
think about it a lot. Gaven says he’s ready, but I don’t know. I’m going to be
this for another six years. Unless the Magic takes. I’ve been thinking about
it, and you’re right. It’s like when they threw me, temporarily, off the
Wolves’ Council–– Which, by the way, did you hear about the Magic
Council––? Gisela certainly didn’t mean to let that slip. There’s a
lot of factions going on here. Anywho. I’m in a state of flux. I know what she
was talking about, when Veruschka Ravenseal said minds get narrowed. I want
what I want. And I’m too old to be in school again. Of course, we have other
secrets, werewolves. But some things you need paws to comprehend. I can tell
you this... that when a werewolf
dies
,
so does the shape changer. It’s called
reper
-something-or-other,”
said Lia, “and it’s what happens when you get stupid. Which is why Gaven is
practically a stranger. He’s on the lookout for anyone acting in a way they
shouldn’t be. Which means he’s pretty much busy all the time. Oh well. At least
I get to hang out with him tonight.”

How could I not love this woman?

“Lia... I’m kinda glad I know you,” I said. She yanked my
hair again. If I had to pay for her being neglected, so be it. Who knew hair
could be so cathartic.

* * *

It was time. The lights were all low, and the magic that
usually shone from the corridors, filled the hallways with twilight. Lia and I
stood in our gowns in front of the full-length mirror, admiring one another, as
the clock ticked to zero hour. It seemed to boom over the PA System, announcing
the start of the evening’s festivities. We could hear doors opening and the
sounds of the Wolves meeting each other for their dates. Lia winked at me.

“Whoever he is, he’s lucky,” she said.

I thought Lia exhibited more than her usual skill at fixing
things; she had used real craft-magic getting the two of us together. Her hair
was in an elegant twist and her eyes, Midnight and dusky, obviously had big,
Gaven-sized plans for the night.

We wore white evening gowns in deference to the black robes
we had worn as Initiates. White for Neophyte.

It was time to go meet our dates.

“Remember,” said Lia, taking my hand and opening the door,
“it’s a cotillion ball, a coming-out for of-age Crafters––you look
great, by the way. As such––”

“Halsey!”

Ballard came running up to me.

“See, told you so,” said Lia.

But he had come with someone else. A woman older than he
was.

“May I present––Liesel. From the Sons and
Daughters of Romulus,” said Ballard.

Liesel said, “I really like your outfit, Halsey.”

“Incidentally,” said Ballard, carrying on before I had had a
chance to respond, and whispering to me so that only I could hear. “They don’t
usually make them like that. Just don’t tell Lia.”

Clearly he couldn’t believe his good luck.

“I don’t know, Ballard,” I said. It was clear he didn’t know
what he was talking about, because next second Gaven arrived. He beamed as Lia
left me and took his arm.

I said hi to Liesel who commented on the locket I was
wearing. “It looks very old,” she said.

“Seventeen years old!”
I said.

But then I forgot where I was and the sound got shut out.
Lux was waiting for me at the entrance to the Werewolves’ dormitories.

I nodded at Liesel and walked past Ballard, who momentarily
stared after me, amid the others filing out. Lux stepped back, letting them pass.

He had brought me a pink corsage, “Until you have a flower
of your own,” he said.

I had to stare at him before my mind would work. He
obviously meant my Wiccan Mark. I didn’t know what it would be when it
appeared.

“Shall we?” he said.

He held out his hand to me, the one with the scar on it,
whereupon I noticed that he was not wearing his rings.

“They’re called Tridents,” he said, when I commented upon
this. The skin there was blackened, reddish raw.

“Do they hurt?” I asked, seeing the three fingers which made
up his Wiccan W. The index finger especially looked like it had been burned. It
was different-colored than the rest of him. Despite what he said it looked like
scar tissue.

Before he could reply, however, we were being swept out into
the Gathering. Where we were headed I had no idea. Apparently the warlocks who
had helped build this place had been busy the length of time it took Lia and me
to sufficiently coif our disobliging hair.

Even the lock I usually had to blow out of my face knew
where it was supposed to be tonight.

The same could not be said for the Gathering. It had been
transformed. Now holly, garland, and mistletoe bedecked every passageway in and
out of the place. We were being led by streamers to the Star Room
itself––the place where the other new-minted Wiccans and myself had
been practicing under the tutelage of Professor Lux. I thought what Vittoria
might say (“Teacher’s pet”), or indeed any of the other Neophytes, if they saw
me hand-in-hand with him. That he’s too old for you, probably. Let haters hate,
I thought. I had Lux. And we were going to a dance. Something Lia hadn’t said.
It used to be that such as I, at such as this, were called debutantes, and it
was our opportunity to exhibit and be seen. I had looked for European witchcraft
all of my life––
since St.
Martley’s
––never having really expected to find it. Now they
were going to be seeing me, these witches and wizards!

It was weird.

What did
they
look
like? How did
they
behave?

Mistress Veruschka, et al, were here as ‘representatives’––nothing
could be so false. But Wiccans outside of the Gathering! They were going to be
in attendance, as well as other Supernaturals! It wasn’t just my coming out. It
was the coming out of the world!

I found Ballard, with my eyes, engaged in conversation with
Liesel; she was in a pretty sequined dress that showed off her figure. I
suddenly saw her laugh and Ballard throw his head back; she continued to giggle
behind her hands. What was I doing?

I looked at Lux, who smiled at me.

“Nervous?” he said.

“Not one bit,” I said. “I can hardly wait.”

As the tunnels opened up and the ceilings became less
oppressive, light filtered in, and the clicking of heels and whispering of
cloth gave way to the sounds of hundreds and hundreds of individuals from here,
there, everywhere. There were more Supernaturals at the Gathering than I could
imagine! I looked for Asher, Dallace, Camille; what I saw instead were trains
of people I had never seen in my life; it really was an opportunity to dress up
and show off, like a parade, almost, and thanks to Lia’s ministrations, I had
nothing to be worried about.

I saw men––some so Mediterranean their eyes
looked like they had dragged the sea with them; and women––like
jewels in a box, bright and sparkly. They greeted each other and enquired as to
this or that. Having always perceived of werewolves as eternally young, I was
surprised to see very wolfy-looking older men and their dates; all of whom
looked like it was high times indeed. Then there were the werecats.

“Don’t ever call a werecheetah by a werepanther’s name,”
said Lux. “They will so dislike you for that.”

“I think that’s a were faux pas,” I said. “...A werepaw,” as
he steered me through the assemblage.

I looked out at the assembled skin-walker’s
convention––and then I noticed the vampires––and
something miraculous happened.

They were happy. Everyone was. It was like they were glad to
be here. I had to give myself a little pinch; they were all smiling and
laughing. And all of it, the paranoia––the them versus us... None
of it seemed to matter anymore. For tonight at least we were as one.

Periwinkle-blue dog’s-bane and hydrangeas the size of
footballs covered the sides of the catacombs, with twinkling glitterdust that
floated in midair. Butterflybushes filled with real butterflies stretched
towards the many hummingbirds I saw drinking from flutes of coppery foxglove
like champagne glasses filled to the brim. Still we continued, past nasturtiums
of nasturtiums and the devil’s-walkingsticks I saw guarding the way, past
garlands of holly, and even a roisin dubh or two. And all the while I clutched
Lux’s arm. It was perhaps a spell like the one Camille had weaved at Venice,
ethereal and otherworldly; on the garden, not Lux.

I wound my way through the tunnels with the other guests. No
amount of magic could fool the eye when it came to discerning who these magical
people were. The foreign werewolves and other shape changers, the vampires and
the Wiccans, they gave an air of mixed breeding and savagery, of refinements
and the most well-polished animal instincts. The vampires were like
velvet-lined boxes or the powder rooms of movie stars, all, I realized, with
that most coveted of possessions.