Neophyte / Adept (57 page)

Blackstock said, “They must be copycatting, Lux! That’ll be
it! They read what He did––but they have not his
power
, none have. No! I’ll hear no
differently!”

Lux tried to protest but Blackstock overrode him. “I will
monitor the situation. The Council of Magic is not a rash body. We need more
time, Lux. Let’s see how things develop. Until then, I suggest we all go about
our business. Agreed?”

“Aye!” said the members of the Council.

“May I say my piece now?” said Veruschka. “Because I’ve been
patient long enough.”

“By all means,” said Blackstock.

“That ‘sed esse in silentium’ business, it means ‘the silent
existence’; it’s what the vampires in Paris are so big on, Arty,” said
Veruschka. “Before you start talking about the Dark Order and dredging up
unfortunate memories you might want to have a talk with them. After all,
they’ve made it their business to destroy Houses.

“As for Miss
Rook
maaker,
she may ‘go her own way,’ yes, but I’ll be watching her, and I’ll be ready. You
can bend rules only so far before they break, and there I’ll be, Miss
Rookmaaker.”

The Ravenseals departed.
You
to your corner, we to ours.
Lennox had the Star Wheel in his arms, ready to
go.
My Gambalunga
, I thought,
Ballard’s motorcycle
; we needed to get
our stuff.

Lux knelt beside Selwyn and put his three fingertips on him.
I watched as the panther slowly materialized. Selwyn was gone, but not forever.
The black cat was in his place. Its blue eyes shone and Professor Lux stood
back. “His therian will look out for him until he’s ready to return,” he said.

The touch of Selwyn’s fur was electric. Ballard and I had
accomplished what we’d set out to do. Now, it was getting back that would be
the challenge.

Chapter 14
– The Trial

The trouble was we were about six hundred miles from Rome,
and you couldn’t exactly take a giant black panther on the Eurorail.

The sun was pale in the east and the Silver Lindens ranged
high overhead, when we finally left Prague. It was just Ballard and me. Lennox
was taking Selwyn back separately. Selwyn’s mind was still a blank. That part
of him was too deeply submerged, I wrote in my Diary. Still, half a protector
was better than none, especially as Selwyn had giant claws and could rip to
shreds anyone who tried messing with me,
Veruschka,
et al
.

So what if I didn’t want to join their House? They should’ve
just taken Vittoria, anyway. I bet she’d go with them, if they’d just ask her
real nice. Perhaps I’d suggest it to her, when I got back:
Hey, V, good news! Ravenseal has an opening! Now you can leave here and
never come back, biiitch!

Ballard and I were making our way through Central Europe.
Crossing borders reminded me again my visa was up. Naturally, we avoided
several spot checks.

The thing was, I needed a
permesso di soggiorno
, a permit to stay, when I got back to Italy.
Otherwise, the EU could kick me out. I could apply for a work permit, but those
were difficult to get.

“Mr. Person In the Questura––please, please,
please,” I said to myself, “I was
born
in Rome, I just can’t prove it––but if you check my Wiccan
House––
you know, where the
magic’s at––”

I was a foreigner who wasn’t, an émigré who never emigrated.
Plus, I didn’t exactly have time to work a day job.
Things
were out there. I needed to open House Rookmaaker. The
Grigori were coming. They had already attacked once in a maneuver to unseat us.
Before I knew it, Ballard and I were in the Veneto, the plains beneath the
Dolomites. The last of the drumlins receded past my taillamp. Here were lakes
so blue, I saw the sky reflecting back at me.
If only I knew what to do
, I thought.

* * *

It was the twentieth of May; the annual solar eclipse
floated over Rome, welcoming us back. Beat, I looked forward to getting back to
my room. But on the outskirts of Rome, we were prevented from advancing by a
line of motorcycles and their Riders revving their engines, looking at Ballard
and me like we were total strangers. I couldn’t tell who they were. Just, that
they were not the usual I Gatti. Or were they? They kept their helmets on and
their visors down. We couldn’t see their faces.

Ballard cut off his engine. On every Rider were black
leather jackets with the words The Warlockes stitched into them. Who were The
Warlockes? I wondered.

The leader of their pack stepped from his motorcycle. I
could see “I-Gatti” stenciled on it. It was a bike
Ballard
had worked on. A lot of the bikes were like that.

Paolo lifted his visor.

“Sorry, Bal, can’t let you pass,” he said. “You or your
girlfriend.”

“What the hell is this?” said Ballard.

“New rules, kid, for a new regime.”

Ballard walked past him. “I see other Riders, but they don’t
show me their faces. Who put you up to this?” he said. “Wait, let me guess,
Paolo. The War-
Lockes
? Locke did.”

He drew his finger across a pink Rider’s jacket who could
only have been Liesel. She fidgeted, nervously. “I see how it is, now,” he
said.

“It’s not just Locke, Ballad, the Council said, as well,”
said Paolo.

“Yeah, but Locke
is
the Council,” said Ballard, coming back to him. “You know I want a trial,
right? I am still Head Wolf, Paolo.”

“Don’t push it, Bal.”

But Ballard, getting on his motorcycle, did push it.

“A trial, Paolo. It’s the only way.”

Liesel wasn’t the only Rider I recognized. Blunt’s and
Giorgio’s square frames were unmistakable... as was Lysander’s. Who else was
here?

“Ballard, what is it? What are they doing?” I asked.

“They want to exile us, Halsey.”

* * *

So not only did I have a House to find. Now, I might not be
able to. We passed through them without a further glance. Why, I thought, was
Locke stirring things up? Ballard waved good-bye and I sped off for Via dei Condotti,
to my landlady.

* * *

BANG!

Vittoria was still in her room. I thought about asking her
what she was up to, but decided against it.

There was a flop at my door. This was something that had
been happening ever since I took out those newspaper subscriptions. If
something was happening, I’d know about it in a heartbeat. Same old, same old,
I thought, flipping through them––but wait...

There was an article by Emma Skarborough, in
La Repubblica
, on stray Roman tabbies in
Largo Argentina––which was a place near here: “Calicoes, gingers,
smoky grays––Roman grimalkins have always had their place in
Rome––and their supporters––until now,” she wrote.

I read the rest of it. From the way it sounded... but, no...
You’re dreaming, Halsey. She would
never
do that... But would she?

I booted up my laptop and checked my e-mail. I felt guilty
not having checked it in so long.

Nothing.

Nothing from nobody––
niente
...

The IX website was still going strong. Stars and symbols
falling from the header. Nothing had changed. It was still counting down, still
bothering me.

I thought about the Riders, wondering what their reactions
might be if the Grigori attacked and Ballard and I weren’t in Rome to help
defend it. Boy, will they be sorry when we’re gone, I thought. No more Chosen
One.
If I am.
If House Rookmaaker was
within the city limits, and I was exiled, could I still go there? I decided to
ask Ballard.

On the way, however, two members of the vigili urbani tried
stopping me. Rome was in full crackdown mode against us. How had the Riders
managed––? I swerved out of their way and fingered the accelerator.

The shop was empty. Being on the outs with I Gatti didn’t
seem to have bothered Ballard. In fact, he was working on his own pet project.
A logo for his new motorcycle company.

“What d’you think?” he said, showing me the insignia he’d
created in his notepad.

“I figure every time I sell a custom jobby I’ll slap one of
those on the side of it,” he said. “Maybe create a new army. The Ballards.” He
smiled at me, happily. “If you want,” he said, “I’ll make you one for your
House. It’ll have to be eclectic, though, or represent them.”

“I think right now I’m homeless,” I said.

“Still no luck finding it, huh?”

I shook my head, no... not that I’d tried finding House
Rookmaaker yet. Still, what
would
the
insignia for it look like?

Rooks are
birds––too close to Ravenseal
, I thought.

Ballard took the sketchpad back.

Maybe
, I thought,
I wasn’t
supposed
to find House
Rookmaaker? In which case, was I going against my parents’ wishes? They stuck
me down the rota, after all. It was on their orders Selwyn shipped me off to
St. Martley’s. Or someone did. Maybe they had no intention for me to come back
to Rome. But Risky had....

I looked at him, up there, smiling. Why
had
he intended Ballard and I to meet?

“You know,” said Ballard, sketching a picture, “a place that
big would have to be noticeable. Your House, I mean. You couldn’t just put it
anywhere.”

“If only I could ask the twins,” I said. “You know, the
Master House? They signed off on it. They must know where House Rookmaaker’s
at.”

What if House Rookmaaker’s not in Rome? I thought. I
couldn’t remember seeing any willow trees, anywhere near here...

“I keep thinking my parents’ House is in Rome, but from the
way Wiccan covens like to keep their distance, maybe it’s not?” I said.

...Pendderwenn had hived from Ravenseal, and look how far
they’d
traveled. They’d come all the way
to Rome. Where had my parents gone when they left House Pendderwenn?

“I wish Risky was here. He would know. Maybe he did know...”
I said.

“Done!” said Ballard. He obviously hadn’t been listening.

I looked at what he’d drawn, thinking, What are my parents
hiding? What is Risky hiding? And where are they hiding it?

“Maybe it’s big, Ballard. Maybe it’s so big they knew I
wouldn’t be able to handle it, or you. Not yet, anyway.”

Then, why do I feel
like I’m running out of time?
I thought to myself.

* * *

It was a cat, which I liked.

“Can you add ‘House Rookmaaker & its Members’?” I asked,
showing him where.

Ballard obliged.

“No problem,” he said. He quickly drew it out. “There!
Finito! Done!”

The question was,
who
were the twelve names that were going to be listed under House Rookmaaker? I
thought about that before filling them in.

HOUSE ROOKMAAKER

&

its Members

a list

Selwyn-cat

Ballard

Lennox

Marek

Me

Gaven

Lia

Sándor

Septimus

Asher

Laurinaitis

Manon

Meeting Ravenseal had ticked me off so much I wanted nothing
to do with ordinary magic––or them.
To embrace outsiders––That
was what House Rookmaaker
was for. As Rome had embraced me, before it banished me, I thought, acidly.

The problem was, I’d already filled it in, and there were
still more openings needed.
Could
a
coven have more than twelve spots? Was there any way?

ROME––It’s called The Palio. A three-lap
horse race in Sienna, Italy. Except the Roman version involves motorcycles and
the winner is declared Head Wolf. A strange moniker for the leader of a gang
known as The Cats.
By Emma Skarborough.

Did she know what she was doing? Ballard’s cousin had just
outed I Gatti. And here I’d thought I could start my own House. My stuff was
all unpacked––Directory, Everything book––but it would
have to wait––everything would.

What would happen if they found out about us? If the
non-magicals knew that supernaturals existed? It went against the sed esse in
silentium, The Silent Existence.

I kept finding myself in extremis and to top matters off,
Ballard’s trial was coming up. My trial was coming up. What was I going to do?

* * *

Tourist season kicked off in Rome with record temperatures
and the motorcycle ban was lifted. Ballard’s shop was filled with customers, finally.
The money was rolling in. Unfortunately, that meant I’d lost my ally in all
things supernatural. Lia and Gaven had been released on bail, so we weren’t the
only ones facing the heat. La Luna Blu had been gutted by the fire. But they
were rebuilding, and some of the Warlockes had crossed the divide separating
the two werewolf camps, and were helping I Gatti rebuild it by clearing out the
charred remains.