Neophyte / Adept (3 page)

“It is for you,” he said.

I took one and ate it. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.
“Mmm. Nom nom. I’m waiting,” I said. He poured the lemonade.

“You truly are incorrigible,” he said.

“So my hat it pointed, and your teeth are. So what? Witches
are in covens the same as vampires. You’ve been at this longer. I told you. I
know the sum of squat. I want more. I’ll take answers first.”

“And after that?” he said.

“I don’t know. We’ll see,” I said.

“Fair enough. Vampires’ senses are heightened: this means
hearing and sight. Touch and taste, however, are relative to the raw material.
Some blood is better than others,” he said, when he saw the question forming on
my lips. “Just as some vampires’ connoisseurship––well, let us say,
they think they know what is for the best.”

“Paris. The Lenoir, you mean.”

“They rule the Immortals. But their reach is greater, more
powerful. And it is growing. But enough of that. You wanted to know
how––” he motioned to the garden; its reach extended to Lennox. I
suddenly became aware that I was sitting in light; he was not.

“Dallace––and I, and Camille––but
Dallace––he must’ve been a wallflower, when he was a mortal. I
would have loved to have known him, then. What is the more romantic version?
That he heard the rhythms of your heart, or that he was listening to them in
the first place? He pays attention, Dallace. Dots the i’s, crosses the t’s.”

“So when you said he was perceptive...”

“It isn’t really a Power, it’s just him; which is one of the
reasons why we’re here...”

“But why
are
we
here?” I asked. “Not that I want to leave; just the opposite, in fact. I would
love to explore. To see Venice.”

“So you shall. If things hold.” He looked at me. “I am
afraid that
I
must go,” he said.

“What? Now?” I said.

“Soon. Days. I needed to know that you would be in good
hands. Camille and Dallace will pro–– They’ll make sure nothing
happens to you... while I am away.”

The visions. My dreams. Had Lennox just admitted that he
knew something was after me? Was that why he was standing out on that finger of
rock? And was he still, in a sense, on duty? Was Lennox...
protecting
me?

“I thought you didn’t need to do that anymore. I thought
nothing was after me,” I said. “Well, besides Marek. But he’s not coming back
again, is he?”

“Would you want him to?” he asked.

Lennox produced an envelope. It was made of thick cream
parchment, and had a wax seal. “It’s unopened,” I noticed aloud.

“It’s addressed to you,” he said.

Dallace and Camille returned. They had been up all
night––all of them. I had been left out. “Good morning, Halsey
Rookmaaker,” said Dallace. Camille smiled at me; it was only polite.

Chapter 3
– Lost Cause

Dear Diary,

Do I retreat within
myself? And make of things more than they are? Don’t answer that.

I have just spent the
day with all of them; we didn’t go anywhere. I got the impression that they’re
all kind of aimless. I don’t mean that in a bad way. Even Lennox is prone to
staring at walls.

I suspect it has
something to do with having a lot of time. Anyway, they’re out now. They take
shifts guarding me. Camille is off hunting. The other two are wandering around
somewhere downstairs.

I spent some more time
alone with Camille today. She told me about Hunters.

“Vampire Hunters,” she
said; somewhere in Prague or something. If they’re not here, now, I don’t
really think about them. It came out during a conversation about something or
other. “The young are vulnerable to hunters,” she said. “Another reason we’re
so communal. It’s for protection.” She stared at me with her big eyes.

I think I’m getting
paranoid. Nobody’s telling me anything. Scratch that. Just that I’m safe and
not to worry. But that’s not really true, is it? I’m not really safe. If I have
three vampire protectors, but things can kill vampires...

Do my protectors need
protecting?

Lennox is always
whispering, and when I ask him about it, he just smiles, and says not to worry.

I got a letter today.
There were actually four of them that were delivered. And that’s another thing,
it must’ve been by hand, because there’s no stamp; probably while I was
sleeping. An invitation, Diary, to something called a Gathering, or
the
Gathering
, I’m not sure.

I won’t transcribe it;
it just said I was
summoned
. ‘You are
hereby summoned.’ Which struck me as odd. There’s a difference between a
summons and an invite. A summons is a command, which means that I was born into
something, or that I signed up.

I don’t recall having
done either.

It was sent by the
Lenoir.

* * *

I paused to think about that.

* * *

The Lenoir. I have
heard it pronounced both ways. Like the American
jaguar
, and the very French
Len-wa
.
I favor the latter. They are, after all, from Paris.

Vampires have a
saying. That all vampires are from Paris. It is the simultaneous audacity, and
clannishness of the Paris Coven, that I hate. Lennox is of course encouraging
me not to think of them in those terms. But I choose how and what I think, and
the process by which I do it.

I feel claustrophobic,
Diary. I miss Rome. But if this summons is truly a command, I won’t be missing
it much longer. The Gathering takes place in Rome; or on the outskirts, at any
rate. There are a series of tunnels. I guess I’ll see it when I see it.

It sounds like
Jubilee. The Romans have this thing, Jubilee, where every twenty-five years
they get together and celebrate, I would guess to punctuate generational
milestones, almost. More significant than the Olympics, or any other event that
takes place every four years. This takes place every twenty-five.

Well, so does the
Gathering.

It said that I would
be ‘tested’, the summons.... Diary––I don’t know what’s going on,
but I don’t like it. We’re going out. They’re calling me.

* * *

I put my book away; it was black-bound and could hold my
angst. In Venice, there is the idea of the città salotto. The city as salon. As
gathering place. Innumerable small islands, in a sense, interconnected. With
all the doors thrown wide open. Inviting waterside cafés... etc., etc.

They were waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. Camille
wore an embroidered black dress, with a silver choker; her eyes peeked through
two curtains of shiny dark hair––that same lick of red, that was
the color of blood.

She smiled at me, genuinely this time.

Dallace marveled at my appearance. “I didn’t know your
size,” he said. He and Camille had supplied me with a small wardrobe, while I
was here.

I had on a pretty silk dress and heels. Lennox took my hand.
“Shall we?” he said.

I nodded, anxious to see the city. We were going out!

I had never experienced anything like it; but then again,
what other city in the world was quite like this one? We left the dark chambers
and entered the Grand Canal, Venice’s chief waterway. Where we were headed was
Riva del Vin––a kind of Main Street.

Camille and I sat in the back of the boat together, the
Bellezza Immortale
, Dallace throttled
along slowly; we were in traffic on the waterway, it was amazing.

Water taxis went to and fro; there were suitcase boats,
loaded with luggage. The Canal is only about two-and-a-half miles long. The
water lapped mildly around us.

And of course there were the gondolas. Tall Italian men
stood in them and rowed passengers along. Everything felt safe. It was a cool
September night, and the light on the water danced in my eyes. I inhaled the
smells––the water, the food. Lennox had neglected to mention
vampire
smelling
. They must, mustn’t
they? I had remembered him sniffing my hair.

Camille took my hand and held it with both of hers. I looked
but she was staring off in her own little world. My stomach rumbled.

“How do you like the city?” she asked, smiling, and turning
her bulbous blue eyes, to look into my own. She didn’t often blink. I had the
impression that she didn’t need to.

“It’s wonderful. But I would be afraid of getting lost
here,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

I thought a moment. “Well... it’s self-sufficient; it’s been
around forever, and it certainly doesn’t need
me
. Venice is almost a trap.”

The bells in her voice chimed. “Exactly how I feel,” she
said. “You know it’s disappearing, don’t you? Every year it gets closer and
closer.”

So I had heard.

“Venice is like Atlantis,” she said. “One day it will be a
myth. People will be sure that it never existed. The earth is swallowing it up.
Wonderful what mortals will do, isn’t it? They’re so afraid to let things die,
they will try and save a lost cause. This is the point. That this world,
our
world, is stuck in the past, nothing
can prevent its slow decay. One day, it will cease to exist, as will we.”

I think I said something about drinking blood and not to
talk that way anymore.

“You are young. You still have your passion,” she said. “I
will say no more.”

“But I want you to go on. I want to know more, particularly
about your past,” I said. “Who made you? And how long have you been?”

Her liquid emotionless eyes cared for nothing. I could see
her death, written dismissively in them.

“Such secrets are not for mortals. I only wish to offer a
warning. Be not too hasty to enter
our
world
. For I am death, I am the dead.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “There’s nothing for me here, or
anywhere––except Lennox.”

“But you said it yourself. This place, Halsey Rookmaaker,
us
, we are a dead end; we are nothing,
we had our time; while you, you are just starting. Your life is like a wheeling
star, spinning recklessly; it could shoot,” said Camille.

“The only question is why you are in such a hurry to give it
all up. To let life go,” I said.

“But I am not alive,” she said.

I wanted to shake her. The boat was pulling into the dock.
“All I’m saying,” she said, “is that the trajectory of your life is in your own
hands. Right now you could be anything. But that window won’t stay open
forever. Oh! Look! I just love water lillies.”

I went to dinner with Lennox at a small café, sniffing at
the scents of rosemary and juniper, with the Rialto Bridge in the background.
He ordered the wine and whatnot. I had a nice dish of caper berries and
marinated white anchovies, he assured me was delicious. How would he know?

His whatnot disappeared mysteriously, as I dug into the main
course.
Sarde in Saor.
It sounded
worse than it was. Fried sardines.

I was somewhat irked with the conversation I had had.
Something of it played in my face.

“What is it?” he said, being all charming and stuff. Dallace
and Camille had gone window shopping. They were like two old lovers surprised
by everything. It gave me something to consider, actually.

I deigned to answer. “Vampires being all self-analytical and
pseudo-deep: I get it you live forever boohoo.”

“What?” He laughed.

I told him about Camille.

“She’s like that,” he said.

I rolled a marinated pine nut in my mouth. “If you want to
be with me, be with me. Come on, Lennox, love. We spend half our time not
talking to one another.”

He blushed without blushing.

“See? If you can hear when I wake, I can at least hear when
the three of you whisper. I think I listened to your conversation all night. I
had funny dreams. Not the bad ones,” I said. “Just sounds, shapes, mostly. And
Camille. She called you Lennox, love.”

“Lennoxlove.
One
word. And stop that.”

I stared at him. And ate another fish. “This isn’t good,” I
said. “The fish is excellent. But my not knowing your name.” I dropped my fork.
“We’re supposed to be going out...
dating
...
I don’t even know your name. It’s not good, Lennox, love.”

“Stop saying that.”

“But, Lennoxlove...”

“I didn’t bring you here to fight,” he said.

“No. Just to ditch me,” I said. The wine was excellent, the
food was excellent. Everything was excellent, just not us.

“No offense to your family––they’re actually
quite nice, and under different circumstances, I would love to get to know
them,” I said. “All right, Camille’s a little weird, and Dallace has been alone
too long, but when you go, I go. We can either go together, and face whatever’s
coming for us––you with the Agonies, and me
whatever––although, if you ask me, what you’re going through sounds
like it doesn’t exist––I’m not undervaluing it. I just don’t
understand why you would let something else control you. You are who you
wish
to be, which has always been my
personal philosophy, come what may. It sounds like a load of hokum, is all. But
if I’m not invited, sobeit, you’re going to have to come find me in
Rome––’cause that’s my home. Otherwise, we need to just break up.”

I left off and ate a sardine. Little did I know that he
would actually take me seriously.

* * *

We walked that night through the sestiere of San Marco, in
the only true piazza in Venice, where I saw a strange clock tower and a
mechanism of blue and gold. The sun was the hand of time.

I realized it was the zodiac and the phases of the moon. Two
huge bronze statues stood above us; they moved suddenly and struck the bell.
Dallace explained them. The clock boomed.

“They are the
Mori
,”
he said. “Italian not Latin. They are the Moors. If it were Latin, they would
mean death. They guard the clock.”

It unsettled me for a second, watching the clock. Not least
because it looked like the Wiccan symbol for the Three Protectors, otherwise
known as the Triple Goddess.

Infester had explained it to me. The Triple Goddess told the
story of the Three Protectors. One, who was steadfast, never moved; that was
the circle. The others, the crescents, could only be there some of the time.
But Infester had an ingenious theory. It wasn’t because their interest in her
had waned. Quite the contrary! It was because they were vampires. They could
only protect me some of the time. And I, I––

As I looked at it, the full moon was like the sun, chasing
away the crescent moons––which were represented in the moon phases
of the clock.

As soon as I returned to Rome I was adamant about finding
magic; I knew who needed to help me. There was also a Fourth Protector.

The famous pigeons slept in their alcoves; the square was
dark, unusually empty, even for this late hour. I took Dallace’s arm, as we
walked along. Lennox and Camille were behind us, whispering about who knows
what.

“Something troubles you, Halsey Rookmaaker,” he said to me.

“Camille and I spoke. Did she tell you?” I asked.

Dallace said, “Camille is good about not revealing
confidences. What did the two of you speak about?”

“It was weird. We were talking about Venice, how it’s old
and stuff,” I said, walking along; his footfalls kept time. “But I got the
sense that we were talking about something more than that.”

“Camille has troubling gifts.”

“She’s very nice,” I said.

“Perhaps if I explain what Venice means to me,” said
Dallace, “and why I live here...”

I waited for him to continue.

“We don’t rule Venice,” he said. “Rather, we fit in. We love
it too much to sully it with blood. This is a peaceful place. It teaches us
patience, to take our time. A human ungifted with our preternatural speed could
cross her in an hour, taking his time. It sets us a different pace, brings us
back to our former selves. To a happy equilibrium. In Venice, you have all the
time in the world... to be human.”

“But something troubles me,” I said, “and I require your
edification, if you will.”

“Please. Go on,” he said.

“Well, it’s just that you said you
‘love
it too much’. And that’s just the thing. Can a vampire truly
really love?”

“You’re worried about Lennox.”

“Do I need to be?” I said.

“It’s true. What he faces is very real, Halsey Rookmaaker.
It’s so real, that he’s afraid to let you in on it. As you can see, I lack some
of my wife’s discretion. Perhaps I should say no more.”

“Or,”
I said,
turning so that we could look at one another––Camille and Lennox
were nowhere to be seen, “what you say is more to the point, and so, of greater
value. No offense.”