Neophyte / Adept (53 page)

Stepping over the threshold, a silver bell tinkled, and I
felt a rush of immense pleasure. It was just as a shop should look with umpteen
heavy cases full of books––some so old and neglected they were
filled with dust––stacked right up to the ceiling, and all over the
place. Books were everywhere, and on all things. I wanted to live here. There
was a spiral staircase which led to the next level. It was like navigating a
forest. Stacks and stacks of books were in all directions. They were simply
everywhere, stuffed in cases, or else stacked higgledy-piggledy wherever space
could be found; and where there was no space one simply re-stacked the books to
make space available. I didn’t know how I was ever going to find anything. It
was a mess. Confused. Out of order.

“Not to worry,” said Samuel Voettfang, the head of the shop;
his brother, Stig, had his face in a book of numbers.
“Now
, how can I help you?” he said.

Er––right. For such a small and claustrophobic
place, they were way too big––facial hair was everywhere. The
Voettfangs were more like lumberjacks than librarians.

“I’m looking for a book of spells,” I said.

“Ah, now. What degree are you? No––don’t tell
me! Let me guess.... A Neophyte, correct?”

“Well––yes,” I said.

“Uh-huh,” said Samuel Voettfang. Lennox had wandered off
someplace––I saw him flipping through books by the window display.
An old-fashioned press, with movable type, sat in the window. I remembered his
immense collection back home.

Voettfang nodded. “I know just the thing,” he said. “Now
where is it?” He began rummaging through his books. They toppled on top of him.
“Neophyte... Neophyte... N for––Here we are!”

Pleased that he had not just pulled out
The Idiot’s Handbook to Becoming Adept
, I looked at the new volume.
“Unadorned––but specifically for Neophytes,” he said.

It looked rudimentary. The title was NEOPHYTE: HOW TO
SURVIVE YOUR FIRST YEAR OF MAGIC by Swillard Mannfall. I’d already done that,
thank you very much.

“Have you got anything more advanced?” I asked, thinking of
Vittoria and her training, and sure she was making headway.

Voettfang grabbed it back. “Not to worry,” he said.
“Advanced... advanced... Let me see. Ah!
The
Illustrated Magical Arts, Volume I
. A picture book. No? You’re right, you
want something
advanced
-advanced.
Trying to be Adept, good on you!”

Perhaps he could see I wasn’t kidding around.

“Don’t worry. Not to worry. Now where is it?” he said.

He dug through his books some more. “Ah-hah!” he finally
shouted. “No, that’s not it!” He looked like his shop had never let him down
before––but it was giving him a serious run on the matter. “Ah!” He
lifted out a huge leather-bound tome. It was falling apart, the pages spilling
out of it. “Some light foxing––boards knocked––but it
will do––it will do,” he said.

He put it down on the counter where it thudded, causing the
lightbulb next to me to explode. Or possibly that was me.

“The Everything Book,”
he said. “...If you want more, you’ll just have to figure it out for yourself.”
It sounded perfect.

“Book of Shadows, obviously–– well-beyond
fledged––my only copy too–– Unannotated––
The language is kind of tricky–– Are you sure you don’t want
something easier?”

My only question was how I was going to carry it out of the
shop? Voettfang looked good-naturedly at me and I shook my head. “This is the
one––I want this one,” I said.

* * *

Lennox settled up with him. I promised to pay him back, in
full. It went into my backpack, which was suddenly full (full of secrets and
things to learn).
The Everything Book
––even
in my head it sounded fantastic––and sure to make me fledged.

“A word of advice––just because you
can
do something doesn’t mean you
should
,” said Voettfang.

As I left I heard his brother say “They always want to
become Fledged––thinking it means something.”

“Just because you’re a numskull,” said Samuel Voettfang to
his brother.

* * *

“
Where to now?” I asked Lennox.
“Massimo’s?”

My bag felt heavy. I wanted to be home right now, so I could
peruse the
The Everything Book
thoroughly. Here were things that could not be found on the Internet. And I’d
tried. Voettfang had handed it to me like it was dangerous––like he
was glad to be rid of it––and maybe he was. Still––it
looked very old, and very used; like the secrets it contained were worth
knowing.

Voettfangs went into the back of my head as a place to
revisit on the off chance I ever found myself in Prague again.

“If anybody knows what’s been going on, or where your friend
is, it’ll be Mas,” said Lennox, slipping his onyx necklace out of his pocket
and putting it on.

But, how come Lennox looked nervous, like we were in danger?
Were we? This
was
Prague, I thought.
Of course we were!

I hurried after him, down the cobblestone street, until
finally, we turned a corner, and there, glowing in the distance, was the Master
House!

It looked like Broadway, with the Master House stuck in the
middle of Golden Lane. What I was not prepared for was just how many of them
there were: hundreds upon thousands of witches and wizards jostling every which
way. All of whom, it may be said, could not possibly be in magic houses. It was
just impossible. Who were they with, anyway? Not Eclectics. For some reason I
felt Eclectics were unwanted here.

The golden dome dominated the skyline––which was
lit up with pastel light. That was where the twins were at! And Selwyn...

I suddenly felt very small. What could
I
do? There were streets which led off in all directions, but they
all came here, and at its center, The Master House.

Before I did anything else, I found a mailbox which was
nearby and sent off the letter to Lia, explaining what had happened, and where
Ballard was now. The Sons and Daughters of Romulus needed that information.
Perhaps they could come and get him. I did drop one interesting tidbit,
however. “Guess what?” I wrote. “I may finally be able to explain how you can
craft and be a werewolf at the same time––or at least one at a
time.”

I was still unsure how wizard-shifters did both
simultaneously. I guessed being a werewolf was a magic all its
own––but maybe with
The
Everything Book
I could find that out.

I felt so lighthearted, it was a moment before I felt the
omnipresence of something evil. “Is it always like this?” I asked, mugged by
the atmosphere.

Lennox was incognito. I imagined a Vampire hunter swooping
down on him––wondering if that was not just the product of a
gullible mind. Perhaps Camille had been kidding when she told me of the Vampire
hunters.

“A curfew is in effect––they have to get indoors
soon,” said Lennox, indicating the shoppers. They looked like there was a
tremendous weight upon their shoulders.

The Master House was to blame. I could feel it. Lennox
pointed to something.

Flyers had been stapled around. “BEAST ON LOOSE. SKILLED
CRAFTSMEN
AND WOMEN
REQUESTED––
TO STOP THE
KILLING
.” As if we’d do otherwise.

Faces of victims had been pasted one over another on a center
pole in front of the Master House, which was big and imposing, built of marble,
like a modern-day Pantheon. All except for the dome, which shone like gold.
Looking up at it made the hair stand up on the backs of my arms. I don’t know
why.

Nobody came or went from the Master House. For all its
authority, it looked cold, austere, unoccupied, silent and empty.
Later
... I thought.

Right now Lennox and I were on our way to
Massimo’s––but I spared a moment for the dead men and women and
their children and dogs––all killed in Letná Park. That was on the
edge of Stromovka. Maybe that explained how the benandanti had not stopped
whatever it was. They didn’t know about it.

We turned down a lane. Someone came out at me; I reacted
instinctively. “Spare some change....” His eyes on me, I formed the W. I could
see the blueness. An aetherhead.

I handed him the skillingr Lennox had given to me before we
continued on our way. “I wouldn’t go down there, miss,” said the aetherhead.

“Is magic
that
addictive?” I asked Lennox, trembling.

To the aetherhead, it must’ve been. Always I had felt like I
had something inside me––some
other
me––I attributed to the fact I had been leading a dual existence:
on the one hand, a student at St. Martley’s; on the other, everything that had
happened since I started keeping The Wiccan Diaries. Would Prague furnish me an
answer to this
seeking
feeling I’d
always had in my guts but been unable to do anything about, or would it only
add to the mystery and confusion?

What is power, if you don’t know how to use it? I thought.
Aetherheads were magic––until they were junkies. Could Wicca really
be abused that badly? How would I know when I did?

Lennox said, “At first, the aether is neat and fun before it
grabs hold of you. Afterwards, everything is harder, including the magic....
It’s Fledged in a bottle, is what it is––until it wears off...”

He stopped. “Remember, we mind our own business and they
mind theirs––it’s when people forget that, we get in trouble.
Sed esse in silentium.
The silent
existence. Come on,” he said.

He opened a door I didn’t even know was there, and raucous
sounds came out.
You to your corner, we
to ours.

I wanted the no-talk rule abolished.

Lennox and I walked into Massimo’s, but it wasn’t called
Massimo’s. It was called Tungleskins; a reference, he assured me, to moonlight,
and the fact nothing good ever happened past midnight, especially in Prague!

The talking died down at once and everyone eyeballed the
newcomers.

Where was Ravenseal, in all of this? Or the Council of
Magic? I wanted to see everything I’d turned down by not coming to House
Ravenseal.

Lennox led the way past Wiccans and warlocks and
whathaveyous. I think I saw one man with a face like a crocodile, but it
couldn’t have been! The bartender gave us a stern look. He hissed when we
spoke.
“Tsss-o... Tsss-o...”
he said.

Lennox plunked down his skillingr. “Gimme two. Clean glasses,
this time, Menelaus.”

“Len
nox! ’S that
you? Only, I’m not allowed to serve you drinks.
You
know that.
MASSIMO!
MASSIMO!”
he shouted.

“Quiet!” hissed Lennox.

“Mas told me not to let you in.
‘I don’t want that vampire barking around here, no more,’
he said
to me.”

“Where is he? Get him, Menelaus. But first, our drinks, if
you please.”

“Right,” said Menelaus, pouring two jiggerfuls of some murky
liquid, which hissed and smoked, and smelled like menthol.

“We’ll be over here. I’m sorry I yelled at you,” said
Lennox.

“Right you are, Lennox. Always happy to help one of the
brotherhood!”

Lennox raised his glass to me, while Menelaus went to fetch
his boss; “––bottoms up,” he said.

I tipped mine back and he followed suit. This chill went
over me––followed by a kind of euphoria which was intoxicating.
“Whoa. What was that?”

Lennox poured himself another one.
“That,”
he said, “is the aether; one shot won’t hurt you, Halsey.
Besides, we’re going to need it––and you’ll be glad of the
taste––now you know what it feels like.”

My blood was boiling. Menelaus came rushing
forward––he was a giant, walrus of a man.

“I told you. I told you you were going to get me in trouble,
Lennox.”

“IS THAT THE VAMPIRE?” shouted a voice. I could hear Lennox
clench his teeth. “You should be in Rome! Along with the rest of the relics!
Ha! Ha! Ha! HAAAA!”

“How are you, Mas?”

“Better, now you’re here. I suppose you’ve heard,” said an
even more gigantic man, he had arms like barrels, and the ground thudded when
he walked. “Tricky things, the Supernaturals––and when one’s on the
loose....”

“So you think it
is
someone in the community?” said Lennox.

“Definitely. It’s definitely a player. Hi, how are ya?
What’s with the hoods?” said Massimo. “Look, you shouldn’t be here, Lennox.
They’re looking for you. Marek too. Spies all over. Menelaus, why are we
standing around?! Find us some chairs!” he shouted.

“But sir! You said I was never to let––and these
were your words, sir––
that
bloody vampire
in here ever again! Not after last time...”

“About that,” said Mas, disregarding the bartender and
throwing his arm over Lennox’s shoulder, who buckled with the weight; he led us
to an out-of-the-way booth where we could talk; “I really must thank you. If
you ever need anything––anything at all––now’s the time.
Tell me, Lennox, what do you need?”

I wouldn’t be surprised if he and Lennox exchanged a series
of secret handshakes there and then. I caught the whiff of something criminal
about Massimo. He had a skullduggerous mind, with an eye for any advantage. But
what did that say about Lennox? Or me, for that matter?

He clapped his hand over his mouth. “Too much generosity
will kill me, but a promise is a promise, Lennox. How is the old devil,
anyway?”

“Occam? He’s fine. He’s in Paris.”

“Good. That’s good, Lennox. Who is this, anyway?” he said,
pointing to me.

“A friend. Someone with power, Mas. So you best be careful.
She isn’t to be trifled with.”

“No, of course not!” said Massimo, winking at me. I returned
the gesture.

Menelaus was back.

“Your drinks!” He was off again, irritated with us. I was
still not sure whether or not I should be angry with Lennox. He slipped me the
mickey, after all. I wondered what the aftereffects would be? Currently, I was
sort of tingly. Everything seemed far away, like it was doable. Like nothing
phased me. Or maybe that was just because I was happy. Which I guessed meant
Lennox was off the hook. Still, I wanted another drink.