Neophyte / Adept (52 page)

“Thank you, I guess,” I said.

I was allowed in.

I climbed to the topmost domov, where Ballard was being
held, and broke through the treetops: and there, in the distance, was Prague. I
saw it! But no golden dome sparkled in the afternoon sun.

It looked dark over Prague. I turned my eye away, and saw
Ballard, where he lay on his bed. His eyes wide open.

“Some view, huh?” he said.

“Oh Ballard.”

“I know it looks bad, but don’t worry. I heal all right, in
the end.”

He was wrapped in gauze like a mummy, but I could see half
his face, which was smiling.

“Is there pain? How are you feeling? Can I get you
anything?”

“Just Rayven,” he said.

That reminded me.

“You should have told me,” I said.

“About what?” he demanded.

“About Rayven... and stuff. You knew his name! You know
everything.”

Ballard huffed. I sat on the end of the bed, where he
grimaced.

“One of the perks of the job,” he said. “I figured we’d go
to Prague––and well––whatever. Gaven told me about
Rayven and the Dark Order. And about me. I have an
it
, inside of me, a thing, my therian, or something... A Lare...”

“So it isn’t Risky?” I said.

“What? Who?”

“Nothing––it’s just––they made it
sound like
reincarnation
––and
I
thought...
Maybe
your animal was like the ghost of your
forebears––you know––
spirits
.”

I drew the circle out in midair, thinking, Is there a spell
for everything?

Ballard’s eyes got big. Had anyone ever told him
he
was magical before? I figured I would
keep that secret, for now, until he was ready to hear it. He’d certainly kept
secrets from me before.

“Risky’s dead,” he said. “Believe me. He’s not coming back.”

“I’m just glad
you’re
back, Ballard.”

It felt like Risky had been watching over me. Maybe the grey
wolf was Risky’s animal, his sangoma? A Lare.

“Me too,” said Ballard. “Don’t tell
them
, but I’m looking forward to getting out of here.”

“When can you get out of here?”

I was thinking about Prague.

He leaned forward. Where the bandages ended, his skin was
reddish and raw. I had the sense
Grigori
magic––magic used by the Grigori, their incantations, and so
forth––was different from spells such as Wiccans used, or the Sons
and Daughters of Romulus, if they still had any left (suddenly, I didn’t feel
so guilty about that racing stunt). That the words themselves were particular
to the individual who uttered them, depending on which
coven
they were from. Fire could be invoked in
many
languages.

“Don’t tell them,” said Ballard, “but I’m getting out of
here soon. I want to go with you––To finish our journey!”

“You need to rest, Ballard. Prague can wait!” I said.

The old lady who had been looking out for him, came back;
Ballard rolled his eyes. “She’s manic,” he said.

“Your time is up.
He
needs rest,”
she said to me.

“Now you know how I feel about my landlady,” I whispered to
him.

Ballard looked at her, mutinously.

“Remember,”
he
said to me. For a split second, I thought he had been trying to put a spell on
me. “We’ll go––
together
.”

* * *

Ballard could stay here, but I couldn’t. Time seemed to be
doing funny things to my head. For some reason, Rayven had been trying to cut
out my animal––my therian––as if I had one!
Do not let
it
survive.
Otherwise, why had he uttered that particular spell? He
had aimed it at me. Why, unless he thought I had a therian. What were the
Lares?

Did I have a therian? No matter what Ballard said, I knew
the grey wolf was important.

With that thought, I would meet it, and if my feet just
happened to carry me to Prague, so be it.

It was a wrench leaving the Gambalunga behind. My personal
property would be safe, including my Diary, which I left strapped under the
seat, in preparation for a quick getaway. The benandanti wouldn’t like it if
they knew I was leaving them––heading to Prague on my own.

It was just me and my hoodie, gone to find the lake. The
snow had melted away and it was raining. A light drizzle pitter-pattered
solemnly on the ground.

If Grigori had magic, then did vampires?
Does Lennox? Does he have a Mark like mine?
Camille did, I thought.

Thinking about Rome, I got an uneasy
feeling––like we had been gone too long. Now, it was only a matter
of finding the grey wolf. Then Prague, and Selwyn if I could.

I doubled back, fetched my backpack, and quickly scribbled
two notes.

To Asher, Laurinaitis
and Manon:

I came here for a
purpose––and until I finish it... I can’t discuss any plans for the
future without first seeing Prague for myself––

Tell Ballard I’m
sorry. Please watch over my Gambalunga.

Halsey

P.S. Don’t worry. I’m
supposed to be meeting someone.

Next I wrote a letter to Lia. I made sure everything was in
order––that I had all my stuff––and then I
went––headlong, into the trees––chasing after it.

* * *

Part of me knew I was being really stupid. After all, if the
grey wolf was after me, so was Rayven, but I didn’t care. I had to figure
certain things out for myself, regardless of what happened to me, even if that
meant getting myself killed, or, or injured, or something.

A recklessness had come over me––like there were
lots of mes and current-Halsey, what I might call
this
-me, couldn’t be on her duff for very long.

BE RECKLESS.
Okay––I would be.

Genevieve was my Godmother. She had my back. But she also
had been preparing St. Martley’s for war. Why?

Combat and fight
mechanics.

That was code for The Atlantic may protect us from European
witchcraft and wizardry, but guess what? Oceans can be traversed! And forests!
Wizards and witches can fly!

The Stromovka was a stopgap, a band-aid, nothing more.
Things were being drawn to the oldest of magic cities––including
me. My boots were already caked in mud before I hit upon the path which led to
the lake.

I figured I’d start there. See if I could catch sight of the
grey wolf. Maybe it was trying to get me on my own. There was nobody else
around.
Come on, come out.

My pack felt light. I only had my personal effects. The
letter to Lia would be dispatched once I got to Prague. I didn’t even have
Ballard’s map with me. I knew Prague was yonder. Perhaps the area around Prague
was like a siphon. It could sift lost souls.

What if you were marked for something? I told myself.
Something no one else could do. But you had to change who you were, to do it?
Could you go through with it? Or would the transformation be even more than you
could bear? If it changed you enough, would you cease to be you?

I was thinking about the Super Bitch, this so-called lupa
mannara, my quintessence. This animism, like a solar eclipse, or the ring of
fire. When the sun was occulted by the moon, it created this fringe, the ring
of fire, which blotted the other out, like the ring on my finger, except
inflamed.
Harm None.

I stepped into the clearing and Lennox was standing there.

“What kept you?” he said.

The “Leh” part of the sentence got stuck on the way out. Was
this what my Power of Sight was? Things being taken for granted and just
happening?

I was sure he wasn’t an hallucination.

Stepping closer into the clearing, he echoed my footsteps.

“I haven’t
seen
you in six months,” I said. “And you think you can just stand there, looking
all cool like that?”

“Pretty much. Yeah,” said Lennox.

He ran his hands through his hair, the act a kind of
nonchalance.

“Besides, you need my help,” he said.

I pushed past him.

“I’m going to Prague. You know, that place filled with
vampire hunters? I can only assume your parents meant the Grigori,” I said,
referring to Dallace and Camille.

He tried lifting branches out of my
way––viburnums and so forth.

“We need to talk,” he said. He wasn’t trying to stop me.

His violet-colored eyes looked like flames in a lamp.

“And the Understatement Award goes to.”

“I’m serious,” he said.

“So am I.”

Privately, I thought:
I’m
a Neophyte now. Out of my way, buster.

“Stop doing that,” I said.

“I was just trying to help,” he said. He let the clump of
witchhazel go, and it slapped me in the face.

The words intrigued me. “It’s a deal,” I said. “You help me
in Prague.
Then
we’ll
talk.”

“Deal,” he said.

I held out my hand for him to shake. The contact caused an
electrical reaction, such as a storm within my brain.
No fair
, I thought. He put his hood up and I followed suit.

The sun was setting by the time we stepped from the trees.
Finally, after what felt like months, I was free of Stromovka. The Vltava was
glittering with the lights of the city. Prague was in the distance. The
Districts of Magic. I had made it.

Chapter 11
– Voettfangs

Lennox lost no time in warning me against the places we were
headed. He didn’t seem to need to be filled in, either, which meant either he
didn’t care or he already knew what our mission was; in which case had he been
stalking me? I knew that was in his nature, but still––

“Beware eye contact––and guard your mind. We
need a procurer––I know the perfect place,” he
said––all paranoid and shizz.

I wanted to see all the magic spilling from the streets.

Lennox, however, warned me against such overt interest in
the goings-on within the Districts of Magic.

“Wait until we get there,” he said. “You’ll see.”

We were crossing the Charles Bridge, to a place called
Golden Lane, where Cubist houses twisted in the night sky. The Velvet
Revolution had changed Prague. Now Art Nouveau blended with more modern styles.

Everywhere were shops and cafés. Gargoyles and gutter
spouts, bell towers cupped with bronze tops, Gothic rib vaulting, scraffito;
not to mention the foraging monks and the Sisters from other
convents––I almost wrote covenants. When they crossed paths with
Lennox and I, they crossed themselves. It made me feel unnatural.

“Just wait,” Lennox kept saying. “Just wait.”

He tried to engage me in conversation, but I said, “Later.
Just wait. And stop cheating.”

He did apologize for missing my birthday. I noticed him look
through the shop windows. Lennox strolled, as if he didn’t have a care in the
world; I was more hunched. There were a lot of people around, shopping and so
forth. I kept expecting someone to jump out, or I dunno, attack me or
something, forgetting I had a vampire with me: he could move ultra-fast, and
rip, tear, gnash, and who knew what else? One of the things I needed to ask him
about was the Agonies. Then I remembered our deal, and thought,
crap. No talking.

I was over the whole angry-with-him thing––but
he wasn’t to know about that. For all he knew I had given up on him completely.
I was seeing someone else––
that’s
it
––I had a new boyfriend––
Ballard
.

Old Town. Surely the entrance to the Districts was here
somewhere.

Golden Lane was awash with brightly-colored
houses––all kinds of shops–– Book dealers had their
wares stacked neatly outside.

I made a list of everything I would
need––thinking about the fortune that had been left to me. Books,
alembics, chalices, athames, crystals, candles, fiery wands–– There
was a whole world of Wicca to tap in to!

A world of cauldrons and broomsticks––familiars
and
un
familiars: swords and potions
and so-forths.

I realized that that was what the soul spirits
were––the things that were in Ballard and me, and within Lia and
Gaven, and all the Romuluses and Remuses––not to mention the
benandanti––witches and wizards traditionally kept dogs and cats as
familiars. What if they were born with them? Had I had this little soul
parasite in me forever? What was it?

Asher had once told me that
true
Eclectics––those disparaged wanderers without any
House––were often the result of wizards or witches who’d mated with
shape shifters in an effort to produce Wizard Shifters, what I was trying to
become.

Had either my mother or father
been
an Eclectic? And was that why Rayven had been sent? To squash
out my animal?

Dark-eyed beautiful men and women passed me in the street.
“Hold on,” said Lennox. He went up to a newspaper vendor and took out what
looked like several silver coins. “Just as I thought. Attacks have been
happening two-a-day in Letná Park,” he said, reading the newspaper. He pointed.
“You see it, over there?”

I looked. A plateau of trees high above the city, looked
down on us. “Joggers, people out walking their dogs....” said Lennox. “When you
get back home, take out a subscription to several of the dailies; I do.”

“Have attacks been happening a lot lately?” I asked,
thinking about Rayven, and if whether or not Lennox was up to speed. Of course
he was! The benandanti watched and waited, but so did
vampires––that was almost their only job description! Watching... seeing
everything around you die...

“You have to read between the lines to see the supernatural
at work,” said Lennox. “...but yes, Halsey! Come on.”

We started heading into the darker parts, when he warned me,
“It is imperative you do what I say––no don’t argue!
You’ll
see.”

I took his word for it.

Just then––a shout––someone
screamed! Three kids my age came running past. They had blue eyes, like
headlamps in old automobiles, literally glowing in the dark. Lennox pressed me
to the wall. “Aetherheads,” he whispered to me, nuzzling my jaw. We disappeared
into the shadows.

From under his arm, I saw an enraged witch pull back her
sleeve and shout:
freki, ulfr, valdyr!

Three gigantic wolfhounds erupted from her fingertips; they
were like smoke.

“Menskr málaferi;
I’m getting too old for this,” she said, before disappearing down the lane
after them.

“What language is that?” I asked. “I’ve heard it before.”

“It’s Grigori. Come on,” said Lennox. “We’re nearly there.”

I followed him down the alleyway, listening as the witch
chased after the aetherheads. Apparently, they’d stolen her purse. Several
bangs issued from the direction they’d come, a cobblestone path which seemed to
twist out of sight––
not a
place sane people would go
, I thought.

It was a reaffirmation of the knowledge that magic could be
invoked in a variety of languages; I wished to learn them all.

“And––can––you
know––vampires do magic?” I asked.

Lennox laughed; it was like old times. “I thought we weren’t
talking anymore,” he said.

“We’re not––but if we
were
––” I said. “Can they?”

“Vampires are powerful creatures; we rely more on instincts,
but yes, we have magic––
a
little
.”

“Cool.”

It seemed obvious. After all, they could live forever. My
perceptions of magic were changing. Now
I
was a Wiccan, and I knew what that meant. Not a vampire. Or a werewolf.

It was halfway to the question I really wanted to have
answered––that of Marek and the Watchtowers and the fact of his
having been one. Surely, Lennox knew about Marek and his past? He was Lennox’s
mentor, after all.

“It was you in the woods,” I said. “The other scent
Laurinaitis spoke of!” My time in the Stromovka seemed like a distant memory.

“If I could’ve come sooner, I would have. But they make that
difficult,” said Lennox.

“And the aetherheads?” I asked.

The alley we were in was lit by moonlight. Obviously, if the
aetherheads had come from it, we must be close to the Districts of Magic. Where
were they?

Lennox paused.

“Power can be bottled and sold, the same as any drug,” he
said. “Their eyes were glowing because they’ve lost their souls. Aetherheads
are
worse
than zombies! Addicted to
the aether, they’ll do anything to acquire it. We’re here...”

I had been so busy talking, I hadn’t noticed how twisted up
we’d become. And Mistress Veruschka wanted me to come live here?! There was no
way! A wrought-iron gate stood before us, I was sure hadn’t been there a moment
before. Instead of the Golden Portal, which led in to Prague, or Golden Lane,
down which we’d come, I was standing at a Gate––
the
Gate, in point of fact. Because the
moment my eyes adjusted, I saw a new, secret lane––the entrance to
the
Other
Prague, as I had called it
in my imagination––The Districts of Magic. I wondered how the
witches and wizards had managed it.

If magic had split, I imagined the explosion to have leveled
Prague. Only, it had happened in secret. As had the First War. No one knew
about it! It wasn’t in any history book I’d ever read! Was there an alternate
magical history that I would have to become attuned to?

The non-magic world disappeared on the spot. So did the
safety blanket of my old world, the place I had come from, and back to which I
could never go; not after seeing all this! It was unlike any place I’d ever
been.
All-magic....
I saw what that
meant, suddenly!

“We don’t have any of this in Rome,” I said to Lennox. Then,
I thought: Do we?

As for St. Martley’s, Mistress Genevieve would’ve whisked us
out of a place like this so fast our heads would’ve spun! There was an endless
variety of shops and cafés; if anybody but a witch or wizard saw them, they
would need to be silenced, the shops were so obviously magical.

Only a witch or wizard could see them, I recognized.
That must be it.
But what about a
vampire? How did Lennox know of the Districts of Magic? And was there more than
one? And if I was just seeing this now––what else had I missed?

I still couldn’t believe that Lennox could craft.

I grabbed his arm and took him over to a café. They all had
names like At the Sign of This, or At the Sign of That; such a linguistic setup
was commonplace in Prague. We were At the Sign of the Double-Edged Sword.

I kid. It was
The
Spyglass Café
. My pockets were empty. I had no cash. Lennox removed more
silver coins, pressing them into the hands of the waiter and ordered two
rauoskeggjaor, cinnamon-topped latte macchiatos, then he turned, and smoldered
at me. “These are skillingr,” he said, indicating the tiny silver coins. “I
knew we would be in Prague. I saw it; as I’m sure did
you
.”

He passed me a tiny coin and I looked at it. It was stamped
with the Golden Dome. So much had gone unsaid, I really didn’t know where to
begin. Not saying was worse than not knowing. Perhaps Lennox had his reasons
for never informing me of things.

“The vendor. Was he a wizard?” I asked.

Lennox had given the newspaperman magic
money––the skillingr.

“Skillingr, to non-magicals, becomes regular money,” said
Lennox. “He saw what he wanted to see.”

Maybe I saw what I wanted to too––had I ever
thought of that? But it was weird to think the money could look like euro, if
need be. I would need to get my hands on more skillingr, if I was going to go
shopping, I told Lennox––because, let me tell you, I said to him,
my eyes beheld
.

Primarily I wanted a dictionary of spells––if
such a volume existed––and in all languages! Books were the order
of the day. Where were the books?

“That’ll have to wait,” said Lennox. “Now tell me about
Selwyn.”

So he
did
know....

Our drinks had come. “Thank you, gildisbrodir; enjoy!”

Mine hissed with some unknown magic. Lennox thanked the
waiter, who departed.

For all the neon lights and come-hitheryness of the
Districts of Magic, cracks in the wonderland were beginning to appear.
Don’t look at the lights
, I told myself.
I didn’t want to be dissuaded from what I had to do. I needed to stay focused.
Lennox was right. Still––it couldn’t hurt to at least peek, could
it...? Where was the Master House?

“Well––when you were gone––I met
him––and that’s another thing, Lennox––my parents left
me a
House
––” I said.
“––Selwyn told me––”

He put down his drink. His hood was so low I saw only his
eyes glowing out of the darkness. I couldn’t be sure but it looked like
something like victory passed his eyes. He obviously knew the power a Wiccan
House entailed.

“And when we get back––I’m going to go looking
for it!” I proclaimed.

House Rookmaaker.
I smiled fiendishly.

My eyes probed for the Master House––and then to
Lennox’s sleeve.

“Hopefully, we can take care of that as well,” said Lennox.

He asked for all the rest of the pertinent information,
which I gave to him: the marker; Selwyn; Veruschka Ravenseal (“So why she
thinks she can
win
me,” I said).

“The place we’re going to is called Massimo’s,” said Lennox.
“But first, I think we should do some
shopping
!”

It was the magic word. We spent two hours going through the
stores. Lennox wasn’t kidding, when he said Praguers stayed up late. It seemed
to get noisier the later it got. As everyone came out, I saw nothing of vampire
hunters or any of that kind of stuff. Rather, the magical inhabitants of the
city were stocking up on things like amulets and lunoculars and horoscopes.
Lennox bought me a silver necklace made of apatite––blue
asparagus-stone.

The lady who sold it, kept going on and on about its
metaphysical properties. “It aids in communication, sir, ’tis a most spiritual
stone, and may be used as an elixir against weight gain, thus its position on
the Mohs scale. ’Tis also known as the Stone of Acceptance. Will you receive
it?

“And for you, Miss?” she asked me. “Ah, black onyx, combine
it with silver as a mirror onto the soul!”

The silver chains were engraved with the word
Italy
, making me feel homesick?

Lennox and I left the apothecary’s shop, him with onyx, and
me the apatite; onyx offered
protection
,
and I liked that word (or should it be ward?).

I looked and looked for spell books, but there were none.
It can’t be just the codex
, I thought,
disappointed. Maybe crafting was an oral tradition––spoken, not
written down. The only problem was, I couldn’t see myself speaking it with
anyone, unless we were in a duel; by which point I wouldn’t have very much to
say to them anyway! Finally, I found the place.

It was in an out-of-the-way dungheap, which didn’t speak
well for the literacy of wizards. It was run by a pair of warlocks. They
reminded me of the S Bros, actually, Sándor and Septimus––finicky
and like they knew stuff. The shop was called Voettfangs––and it
was run by the Voettfang brothers, Samuel and Stig Voettfang.