Neophyte / Adept (38 page)

“Whose blood, Halsey, is in those Cups?” said Ballard. “It
doesn’t matter. I don’t want to fight. This place”––and here I
thought he meant Rome––“is like––I
dunno––like my
luminarium
,
or something. It’s where I come to be myself, if that makes sense. It’s where I
can reflect.”

He was speaking about the garage. “It’s almost January,” he
said. “Soon it will be the Wolf Moon. Then there’s the Worm Moon and the Blue
Moon, the Hunter’s Moon. All kinds of moons. If I drop my pants, I can show you
the Ballard Moon.” He laughed, cutting the tension.

“You’re so hipster,” I said.

“Rome is a bastion. It protects us. I am not like my
brothers and sisters. I am more powerful. And I am this––this
werewolf
, that I am, for all time; only
Gaven and I have spoken of this. You must know, Halsey, because we are linked.
You
need
to know there is this
connection between us. It does have the wider effect of complicating our
relationships with the other supernaturals. I and my family, we are
bound
, through oath and pledge and
centuries, to being Protectors of Rome––and now I feel this same
kind of connection with you, I don’t understand it. I know that you are soon to
leave us, and that you will ask me to go with you.... What you and I are about
to do transcends the Sons and Daughters of Romulus,” said Ballard. “We’ve never
had a member of the Pack protect an outsider before. You
are
one of us, Halsey Rookmaaker, a Romulan Daughter.”

“Wait... what?”

“For Lia, she continues to be over-the-moon. Gaven is the
One. It’s only a matter of time before they decide to have kids. I have spoken
to Gaven...”

“Wait... what?”

“How
else
am I
supposed to interpret these
feelings
?”
he said. “I feel you hurting inside of
me
.
Almost as though––no, it’s as though–– It causes
me
physical pain. Your pain
is
my pain.”

When I meant for Ballard to show me his, I hadn’t meant all
of
this
.

“I am working to keep these feelings under control,” said
Ballard. “Probably, because I know how you would feel, if I told you.
Terrified––or like we couldn’t be friends anymore. But there is an
upside. I think I will always know when you are in trouble.”

He dropped the torque wrench he was carrying, as if my
emotions were causing him physical pain.

Ballard––felt
things.
It was almost like he was standing naked before me. He was showing
me
his
. “But you don’t feel that way
about me. Do you?” he said.

“Wait... what are we talking about?” I said. I was confused.
More than usual.

Was Ballard talking about what I thought he was? Was I
supposed to be a Romulan Daughter––more than just honorarily? And
these feelings of his. I needed him to explain that. He knew when I was in
danger?

“You and me,” he said.

“What about us?” I said, before I could stop and think.

“I understand if you don’t feel that way about me,” he said,
talking at cross purposes.

“Wait... Ballard...”

“Never mind. It’s all right.”

My Mark prickled, flaring painfully––I slapped
it with my off hand. Maybe it was in conflict with who I was. It was really
starting to hurt. Maybe I was in conflict with myself. Had Ballard just
declared
himself to me? “WAIT,” I said,
out of breath from the pain. “I don’t want to lose you, Ballard,” I said.

He made some laughing, dismissive hand gesture. “Honestly, I
don’t even think that’s possible,” he said, tapping his forehead.

“Huh? What does that even mean?” I said.

“Ask Lia. I know I have.”

“Ball
-ard,” I
said.

“It’s nothing. Lia just thinks that––if she’s
magic, maybe I am too. And maybe that’s, you know, why I could see you
coming––when I did.”

He was wiping off his hands, searching for another tool.
Looking at me only every now and then.

“My
senses
are
heightened,” he said, “all right? I get these feelings. Like I’m... constantly
on edge or something, I don’t know what it is.”

“Has it ever happened before? And what precisely is it?” I
asked.

I came forward to help him.

“But one thing is certain––” he said. “You and
me, we’re supposed to
do
something.”

He waited for me to say something. I nodded my head. I think
my brain had stopped working.

They will have a
Power... A Power of Sight...

“Look. It’s all right. I can deal with it,” he said. “It’s
not like I have a
choice
about the
way I feel. Only Lia thinks it may be a
Risky
thing. Like I haven’t got enough to worry about, I may also be the ghost of my
dead uncle.”

He laughed humorlessly.

Ballard’s emotional state was my main priority. He had
dropped anvil-sized hints of his feelings for me in the past––which
was why I had encouraged the Liesel thing, but apparently that hadn’t worked
out. Now what was I supposed to do?

“We need to talk about this later,” I said. “Definitely
later. Right now, I want you concentrating on that race. I––have
some things I need to do.”

Meanwhile, Ballard’s feelings may have been caused by
something else, entirely. I didn’t want to diminish them, but couldn’t they
have something to do with the fact that––he was my Protector? Maybe
he was
bound
, as he said, to see
inside my screwed-up head, or to at least know when I was out of sorts.
Out of mind, out of sight.
A power of
Ballard.

“That’s what Gaven said,” he said. “He seemed to think they
were natural feelings, my instincts, my prickly apprehension when you are not
around.”

“So you
can’t
read
my mind...”

Ballard looked at me defiantly. His words held a separate
meaning.

“I only see the real. Not the unreal.”

If Ballard’s Protector thing was the reason he was getting
these feelings... about me... that would make me Her. The Wiccan Prime Mover.
Which I was not. I couldn’t possibly be. I was sure of that.
Lia
––I needed to speak with
her. I decided to go home first. I asked Ballard about the
race––the Il Gatto triple circuit of Trastevere. He said it would
be sometime after the New Year but before Lia’s wedding,
“If...”

“That’s right.
If....”
I said.

With Ballard teetering on the precipice, Locke was even more
of a thorn in my side.

* * *

When I got home, my landlady was in a funk. “Not you too?” I
said. She eyed me beadily.

“You have new hallway person,” she said, “living down hall.”

“You mean a new Housemate?” I said.

She nodded, but there was something calculating in her look.
Like she was waiting for me to do something. I decided to effect my escape
forthwith, before my landlady could criticize me further. It was at the vending
machine I saw her... This
new
person...

She was exiting the door beyond the hall, with her back to
me, pulling at a handcart, when she turned, facing me. It happened in slow
motion.

One second, I was getting an energy drink, the
next––

I saw a bunch of cardboard boxes, and was just about to say
hello––perhaps go over the do’s and don’ts of the place, such as
do avoid the landlady, do not look too
directly at her
––when I saw who it was... Vittoria... Her
forehead creased.
“You,”
she said.
She looked at me, menacingly.

I saw her look at my Wiccan Mark. Luckily, it was concealed
underneath my sleeve.

“Me,” I concurred.

“What are
you
doing here?” she asked. “You don’t mean to say you
live
here?”

“For a while now. Why?”

“That’s just
perfect
,”
she said.

I wanted to know where she had been––what she
was up to; if she was any nearer to figuring out this whole Wiccan thing? If,
in fact, it required kowtowing to the likes of Ravenseal?

“None of your business,” she said.

We stared at each other for a full five seconds. Finally, I
nodded, and turned the key to my room. “You suck, Vittoria,” I muttered underneath
my breath.

* * *

It was important I emancipate myself. Seeing Vittoria
there––remembering how
she
had done it, I sat at my desk, removing the stationery from my desk drawer.
Next, I fished out the brochures from when Vittoria and I had been Initiates, during
the whole recruitment phase. I flipped through some of them. All the Initiates
had swapped brochures like
trading
cards. London looked magnificent. Old, otherworldly. But it was Prague which
stopped my eye. The brochure for Ravenseal was ornate. I found its address. A
letter addressed there would reach
her
,
I was sure. Veruschka Ravenseal.

Someone had written on the stationery before me. So I pulled
off a few pages with the ghosts of scribbles on them, and began afresh.

To Whom It May Concern... Though privately I knew it would
go directly to Veruschka...

I was flattered
when

I really enjoyed
meeting

I thank you for
your interest in selecting me

I need more time to
sort out certain of my affairs
.

Obviously
,
I wrote,
that means a delay in when
your man should be sent. Why SHOULD he be sent? I don’t NEED
––

I decided to begin again:

Dear Veruschka.

It’s me, Halsey.
I’ll be there later.

In Prague, I mean.

My friend is getting
married.

I want to be here,
for the ceremony.

Don’t send your man.
Just don’t.

Halsey.

That would have to suffice. I didn’t sign it Rookmaaker. At
this point, whatever happened
would
.
If Veruschka Ravenseal was coming for me, so be it. I sealed it and flipped
through the brochures some more, looking for a way out.

The fact was, Rome was home. I didn’t want to go anyplace
else. Perhaps I was becoming like Lia. Set in my ways.

Prague scared me. I didn’t know why.

In fact, I did know why.

It was almost like they thought they could do whatever they
pleased, in Prague––with the Hunters and somesuch. Hadn’t Ravenseal
ever heard the word
no
before?

The delay was dishonest, but I didn’t care, I had things to
do. For starters, it had become imperative I find my Wiccan House immediately.

Chapter 4
– Il Gatto

Our sleek heads broke through the cover of cloud, going up
the mountainside in the ski lift, Lennoxlove strapped to his Burton. I had
never seen him in the sun before. “I didn’t know vampires skied,” I said.

“Snowboard, actually,” he corrected.

Below us I could just make out the tiny figures of Dallace
and Camille. It was a moment before I realized Camille had also been a Wiccan
(as if it could go away). There was more to her story; I chided myself for
never having asked it, the question I needed to have answered. She and I were
practically family.

I watched as she pulled off a spectacular McTwisting
something-or-other, backside quadruple whatever. Straight into Dallace’s arms.

Lennox looked happy.

I felt the chairlift ticking below me: we were high up. And
then, I don’t know how this happened, it was like he was controlling it. Lennox
pulled a lever and we stopped.

And we swung, high up, between the sheer sides of a
plummeting gorge.

Lennox said, “We never let anyone come this far who hasn’t
first committed to going all the way.”

I assumed he meant me.

“Lennox... I really––I don’t know what you
mean...” I said, beginning to shake, and looking over the side of the lift. He
had just warned me against something. What? Dallace and Camille’s smiling faces
were gone. Instead, I was hanging over an abyss.

And then the large metal cable which supported us began to
give way, giving that eerie whine of taut tearing steel. And––

“Lennoxlove...” I said.

We began to fall.

* * *

I woke from the dream––sweating profusely,
tearing myself away from the memory of it. He had reached out for me, when the
wind had whipped us apart. I could still feel his fingertips grasping for my
own.

And then I looked around, groggy-eyed and confused, for I
had just heard him. Here in my bedroom.
Lennoxlove.
And I thought for a moment he had come out of my dreams, a kind of
hallucinatory experience I had not had since I was a child, when the world held
a kind of charm which could only be interpreted as magical.

My eyes refused to focus. I continued to stare around in a
confused sort of way. It was almost like raven song. It put me in mind of some
fabulous dream; but I was awake, I couldn’t be dreaming. I saw him standing
there, on the edge of my balcony––the French doors leading into my
bedroom. I smiled incoherently, one of those lush smiles, when the things of
your obsession seem to be on the brink of being yours. But also realizing that
something was not quite right.

I felt my hair and did a quick breath test––my
heart knocking uncontrollably.

Still, I was angry at Lennox for taking so long. He could’ve
at least written to me. Becca and Mistress Genevieve had, and they were
thousands of miles away. Yet with Lennoxlove, nothing.

“I invite you,” I said.

He stepped into my bedchamber, all hair and silhouettes.
First his eyes, which were glowing like lavender lanterns, followed by the rest
of him. The hallucination vanished; I was left staring at my hands in the dark.

The scene shifted. Lennoxlove was staggering over the hard
and cracked earth. Everything about him, all the land and sky, had been
scorched. Destroyed. The earth consumed in a poisonous fume. They were
fighting. I could see witches and wizards, werewolves and vampires, and other
things, besides. Flame erupted from the earth. There was shouting. Bodies moved
through the smoky black murk. Vittoria... her eyes shining contemptuously from
out of the dark...
stared at me
. It
was like I was seeing from a great height. A terrible and ravaged plain. This
would come to be.

This is what the world
will be....
The vision changed. I saw the Hunter entering upon a
heath––a dark ball of light shining in his hand, until I woke,
gasping for air, feeling the bed springs creak. My mind exploded in a rush of
stars. What was going on?

I crawled out from under the covers that had twisted
themselves around me, still laying on my bed, fully dressed in my jeans and
black sweatshirt, and fitted on my boots, listening to the sounds in the
hallway.

Shadows crawled along the ceiling of my room. Headlamps
roved along the walls. It was the middle of the night. It was a moment before I
realized where I was at.

I heard motorcycles outside. Voices. Lots of them. Revving
their engines.

My head was spinning. I felt outside myself. If I didn’t
move, it was almost like I wasn’t here.

In a trance, then, I fetched my helmet and got out of bed,
walking to the door. I opened it just as Ballard was preparing to knock.
“Surprise!” he said. “We thought you might be up for a little late-night
skullduggery.” A pair of watchful, dark eyes, looked out at me from the
doorway, down the hall. Vittoria was standing there, wondering what was going
on. Ballard did a double take. She was dressed in her nightgown. Maybe he could
sense she was my enemy. I told him to
“c’mon.”

“Keep it down, will ya? Some of us are trying to study!
Enjoy your dog walk,” she said, slamming the door.

Ballard again exhibited his strange connection to my
landlady––she didn’t threaten him at all. Instead, just smiled. “I
like you,” she said. “You good boy. Yes.”

“I just love her,” he said.

“Ballard, she’s insane. This place is insane.”
I fit right in.

Vittoria–– What was she studying for?

I felt guilty. I should be levitating things. Instead I
needed to buy more lightbulbs.

When I got down on the street, they were all there. Paolo
and all of them... Gaven and Lia and Liesel and Leander and the rest of the
wolf pack. Alphas and betas, commingling. All on their motorcycles. I looked for
Locke but he was nowhere to be found... There must’ve been thirty of them, all
in their helmets, astride their bikes, or else standing around, striking poses.
The six nine of the six nine. It was inevitable in so much awesomeness I feel
out of place. I stowed it––along with my uneasy feelings about my
new
neighbor
. Vittoria living down
the hall from me was just too much of a coincidence, didn’t I think? I wondered
what she was up to. Then, about what it was
about
Vittoria that I did not like.

I settled on the fact that she had a flower-Mark, like
mine––except it was onyx not silver. Was it that we had things in
common, that I did not like? Vittoria’s virtue was either Grace or Goodwill,
after all, the same as mine. Could anyone whose virtue was either one of those
two things really be that bad?
Yes
, I
decided.

I did a little whathaveyou, twirling so Lia could see me
decked out in my rider’s garb; it pleased her I had become so biker-ish. “There
she is. There’s Halsey Rookmaaker,” she said. Liesel was on hers. I could hear
it running fast and steady, thanks to Ballard’s ministrations.

Gaven said, “What’s up, Halsey?” He didn’t look like he was
suffering the ostracization described by Ballard. In fact, he looked happy. The
rest as well. Maybe riding did that. I always felt happy when I rode.
Free-like. As always, when I looked at Gaven, my mouth watered. “We just
thought you’d like to take a spin,” he said. “We’re having a
party––at my place.”

Pretty soon, we were all on our bikes, Ballard riding a
generic one. “The blue moon will ride again,” he promised, referring to the
monocoque of his other one––of a blue moon breaking through the
storm clouds.

“But the race,” I said.

“I’ll figure something out,” he said. It was clear he
thought little of the spare: a jumble of tubes and wires under a coat of primer
paint, so that he looked like a grey wolf.

Gaven’s place turned out to be La Luna Blu, The Blue Moon, a
werewolf-friendly tavern, in Trastevere. It was centrally located, in the heart
of the anti-vampire movement. Any time here, I felt like I was split in two, in
due
, as the Italians say. My
Lennox-allegiance at odds with all of them. But so be it. When it mattered,
Gaven could be clear-thinking, solid, leader-like––and work for the
interests of all. But he was no longer Head Wolf. He existed in a state of
semi-retirement. His perpetual alertness somehow diminished, subdued, as if his
coolness had somehow mellowed out and he had become even more super awesome.

Lia and them were racing while I drank my Succo del Gatto.
It banged in the back of my throat. A caffeine kick plus something extra.

I was on my Gambalunga, listening to its peculiar whine: a
rapid throaty rise and fall: thinking about my addiction memoir. For so the
Wiccan Diaries had become for me, a place I wanted to exist in
entirely––with Gaven and all of them; and with Lennoxlove, wherever
he was at.

Not Prague. Not Ravenseal. Not being
told
what to do.
No.
I
realized I was too old to ever again be under anyone else’s thumb. If that made
me eclectic––so be it, I was eclectic. Badass and whatever.

Liesel’s cycle fired; she and Lia were going toe-to-toe.

The other racers whooped, cheering them on. It was just a
straightaway, at the end of which they circled back, neither having outmatched
the other. But I heard a rip-tear and suddenly Lia disappeared.

It was quite something watching her maneuver her bike into a
standing wheelie. A trail of acrid smoke whomped into the air.

They were blowing off steam, like the smoke which issued
from Lia’s rear tire. The werewolves were relaxing.

For them that meant doing things which were reckless. After
all, endangering themselves on two-wheelers was nothing compared to the Cold
War they seemed to be in with the other supernatural enclaves around this
world.

Lia banked into a group of guys and was off her motorcycle
in no time, coming over to talk to me. I could remember being jealous of her.
Now I had only admiration for Lia. Maybe I was being unfair to Vittoria.
Judging her.

Judging her
correctly...
I said to myself...

If I could have, I would have said Lia walked with a
certitude belying the fact that she was so screwed up. We both were. After all,
how many times had we changed? She into a werewolf––and us both
into Wiccans. Lia was the only one I could talk to
about
magic. Simply because she was the only one I talked to who
was
magic. What Vittoria and I did
wasn’t talking. It was showing off. Warning each other to stay away. Whereas,
Lia and I were friends.

The requisite looker-on deposited into her hand a fresh
Succo del Gatto. Lia popped the top, and said, coming over to my Gambalunga,
“I’ve always loved this bike. It was Risky’s, didn’t Ballard tell you?”

My Gambalunga hummed some more.
Ballard...
I had no idea... Lia could tell it on my face. “He
lied
to me,” I said.

“That’s my little bro. He does things like that,” she said.
“Seemed to think you deserved it.”

If he lied to me about my Gambalunga, what else had he lied
to me about? If I couldn’t trust Ballard, who could I trust?

“Lia. Race for Il Gatto,” I said.

She eyed me.

“That may not be wise,” she said. “But it
may
be fun.”

The exhaust snorted.

“It’s Il Gatt-
o
,
not Il Gatt-
a
, Halsey. O not A.
Masculine, not feminine. The Head Wolf is usually a guy,” she said, as if I
didn’t already know that.

In this case, usually meant always––and we both
knew it.

“In fact, I wanted to talk to you about that,” she said.
“But first, I think you need a refill. We’ve been having a hectic time of late,
and this is an opportunity for
all
of
us, irrespective of gender, to let our hair down, so to speak, even if we’ve
shaved it all off.”

I watched her go in her tight-fitting leather pants, and
wondered if she would even want to assume the Werewolf Headship. Would I?
Did
I? With House Rookmaaker?

We hadn’t really spent that much time together, Lia and I.
Part of me knew that I was guilty of keeping my friends at bay. I hadn’t even
told her about my House––Ballard either.

The dog star, Canis Major, was bright in the heavens. Lia
came back with a newspaper under her arm I saw Gaven give to her.

She scrunched up her eyes at the front-page headlines,
folding the paper under her arm. “So...” she said.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“It’s nothing.”

I waited for what she had to say. She seemed to drink her
drink and ponder what she had just been reading. Weighing it on her Lia scales.

“Right. The race...” she said. That seemed to be what
everybody was talking about––who would win; who would be the new Il
Gatto...

I heard Liesel say to Ballard, who was hanging on her every
word, a short distance away: “Greek werewolves actually put Wicca back
into
its box. Wholesale rejection of
magic was key to their philosophy. The Greeks were after a kind of harmony
without magic. It was the Romans who let it out of the box again. So I guess we
failed in our duty. That was actually what the Renaissance was all about. To
try and get back to the Greek perfection. Do away with Magic. Instead, we
opened Pandora. You can see the results.”

Liesel said:
“Know
thyself. Nothing in excess.
Those were the two rules ancient Greeks lived
by. I like this little touch here, you did with my motorcycle.”

Ballard licked his lips. “You know we are
them––the Greeks,” he said.

“I guess what I’m saying,” Liesel went on, “is that if
I’m
elected Head Wolf––I
will try and take us from being out of whack, back to that place of harmony,
which is vital if we’re to sustain ourselves.”

Ballard only nodded.

“Oneness––not
twoness,”
said Liesel. “Maybe, you know, that is why Lia can no longer
shift. After all, she’s Greek. Maybe she was not
supposed
to have dabbled in magic.”