Neophyte

by T. D. McMichael

  Maybe I wasn’t this Chosen One after all. Maybe I was just me. Halsey. Maybe Lia was the Mythic Chick...

  I reread what I had written. What the heck was a Half Lighter? It was just another question I had for a magical world I knew nothing about.

  People were stirring. Soon it would be time to get up. I stared at the candle flame the action of which made me think of Lennox.

  He was far, far older than I. Perhaps he knew what was going on. Gaven had recommended circumspection. Waiting and watching. Whoever these people were, time would reveal them.

  In the meantime, I had magical studying to get ready for. I fetched out the Magus Codex and flipped through it some more. I had been neglecting it for far too long. There were the strange curling bands I had seen before––drawn on the figure of a witch or wizard. The marks of the Adept. Perhaps what happened when you became fledged. When you had reached an elite magical level. They ran up the hand and seemed imbued with some mysterious significance I was too naïve to know about.

  The Spellcaster’s Mark.

  Lia shifted––but not really. She turned over. If she had turned into a dog––then we would have had problems. I didn’t want her drooling on me. Or Asher, for that matter. I was Lennox’s.

  Possession for a vampire was like obsession for a mortal. Try as I might, I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of living forever, of being immortal, much less being with the one I loved. Already we had been separated by circumstances of Fate. I hated using words like that. But that’s what this felt like. Like someone had chosen to interfere with our Life together; Lennox’s and mine...

  If I had to guess, Maria...

  That mocking, better-than-you attitude of hers, really got under my skin. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to see her again.

  But I knew better than to wish for something so impossible. She was just as interested in the Initiates as the rest of them had been. I wondered why?

  What was so important about the Initiates that everyone was so crazy about them? Surely there were enough other magical people. I had seen gobs of them.

  “Try not to think about it. We’ll make it through this,” said Lia.

  I couldn’t help myself; I crawled out of bed and peeked up at her. Yep. Talking in her sleep. Her mouth was hanging open.

  “Don’t worry, baby... don’t worry...” she said.

  Her long, dark hair hid most of her face. Lia was wrapped in her sheets, like she had been tossing and turning all night. I decided to go take a look around. I hurriedly dressed in my Initiate’s robes. I didn’t bother dragging a brush through my hair. Maybe there was a spell for, like, split ends and bed head and stuff.

  I crept through the sleeping berths, but there was no need. Wherever the werewolves were, they were no longer here.

  I tried Ballard’s, but he was gone. Where could he have gone to? I wondered. Was it just Lia and I?

  I crept into some kind of informal gathering hall. The tunnels twisted and turned. There were stuccoes on the walls. I didn’t know what they were.

  A glow lamp spluttered and went out. I turned.

  Asher was coming from some kind of secret entrance, there in the wall. I felt for my map, but I had lost it. It was too late. I was caught.

  I made a mental note to never ever leave that map in my room, ever, ever again––

  If I even ever made it out of this alive.

  I wondered if he would be angry at me, Asher. Angry at me for wandering around. The maps made it pretty clear that some places were off-limits. It depended on who you were. And who you were with.

  I didn’t know where I was. I was lost. That had to be a good enough excuse, surely.

  He was standing there, halfway on his way to someplace else. He seemed to know that I had gotten confused.

  “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he said, “much less wandering around the halls at night. It isn’t safe. You can’t just go anywhere you feel like, Halsey Rookmaaker.”

  “I’m not,” I said.

  Meanwhile, that looked like exactly what he was doing.

  “I’m on my way somewhere,” said Asher, as if that explained what he was doing out of bed.

  I bit my lip. I didn’t know him that well; not yet. I didn’t know if Asher was good or evil. He gave off a Marek vibe. It could go either way. I certainly had reservations about the company he kept. Hanging out with the Lenoir. It didn’t make sense. Unless he was lying.

  “You’re not a vampire, are you?” I said.

  “Certainly not,” he said.

  But if he wasn’t, what was he doing with them? Certainly not a servant. Asher seemed too proud for that. Like he was noble almost. He apologized for scaring me.

  “Not at all,” I said. “I just didn’t know there were secret passageways and stuff.”

  “Has no one told you what this place is?” said Asher. He wanted to take me back to my room. “Come...” he said. “I will make sure nothing happens to you.”

  I followed, waiting for him to talk. It turned out to be a futile effort.

  “I give up. What is this place?” I said.

  “It’s what it used to be,” said Asher. “Not what it is now. You forget the past at your peril.”

  “I don’t know my past,” I said.

  But he turned and stopped me. “We wear that on our faces,” he said. “Follow me. I will guide you back to where you belong.”

  He moved cautiously, like a cat. And like a cat, he had vertical pupils.

  I followed after him with about a million questions.

  “Something is in the ether,” he said. “I feel it. Do not you?” He stopped and turned to me; I had been admiring his stalking body. His eyes looked like two moons glowing out at me from the dark. But I felt only safety. And a desire to know more.

  “I know that there is something out there, Asher, perhaps waiting for me, perhaps waiting for us all; and that it is only a matter of time...” I said. “But tell me, now that we are here together, what are you––for I would know you, but only as friends.”

  Now that I was alone with him I had seen what Lia meant; a prerequisite, therefore, had to be me stating the obvious. That I was seeing someone else.

  Asher seemed devil-may-care––until he leaned into me.

  “The moon does strange things to the earth,” he said. “Its rhythms affect the other. I am not out-of-body, nor persona non grata, Halsey Rookmaaker––”

  “Halsey,” I said. “Halsey Rookmaaker makes me sound like I’m––I don’t know––something I’m not. This Mythic Chick.”

  “I didn’t come here to get a suntan,” said Asher.

  We were a hundred feet underground. “Of course not,” I said.

  He was really close. I felt my hammering heart like it was trying to give me away. Asher invaded my personal space with impunity. I gulped.

  “Now what?” I said, half-breathlessly. I was almost in a swoon.

  “I answer your question of course. I am like your friend Ballard.”

  “What does that even mean?” I said.

  “I will not give up his secret, as he has not entirely figured it out for himself,” said Asher. “Suffice it to say, I have my eyes on you.”

  They glowed non-threateningly. “I’m good. You don’t have to worry about me,” I said. I needed him to turn around so I could catch my breath. “That still doesn’t answer what you are,” I said.

  “That... is complicated,” he said.

  “And what you’re doing here...”

  “Again. Complicated.”

  “You can be simple with me,” I said. “Try.”

  He chuckled. It sounded like he had a furball.

  “I am one of the Celeres––personal guard to the Magister Equitum, himself,” he said. “He sent me here.”

  “With the Lenoir?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  I didn’t even know who that was. Much less what a celery stick was.

  “Celeres,” said Asher, smiling. He had a powerful jaw
. It was good for ripping. I could see his sharp, pointed teeth. “We guard the Wolf King, the other shapeshifters and I.”

  “But I thought Gaven was the Wolf King,” I said.

  “He is Il Gatto, the King of Cats,” said Asher.

  “But he turns into a werewolf,” I said. “Gaven is a dog, not an ailuranthrope.”

  “Again, you forget the past,” said Asher.

  I had a headache. I wanted answers, not cryptic crypticness.

  He smiled at me. “Perhaps another time, Halsey Rookmaa––”

  I glared at him.

  “When you have been here longer,” said Asher. “Right now I need to take you back. The first day is about to begin. You don’t want to be late. This is your life we’re talking about.”

  Was he trying to change the subject?

  “Because it won’t work,” I said. “I will get to the bottom of this, of everything. I’ll go it alone, if I have to.”

  “You’ll go with me, and then, yes, you will get to the bottom of things. I have no doubt.”

  “Answer me one thing,” I said. I could afford to be stubborn now.

  “You have only to name it,” he said.

  I studied Asher’s eyes. I could tell he meant it. That he would answer me one question. I decided to make it a good one.

  “If you’re not with the Lenoir,” I said, finger quote, stress-stress, “then what are you doing with them?”

  “Ah, that is an interesting question. And one, unfortunately, that I cannot answer. I can, however, ask you a question of my own?”

  “Go on,” I said, feeling as though I had already been played with, but resigned to hear the question anyway.

  “If you’re not with the werewolves, Halsey, then what are you doing with them?”

  “It’s complicated,” I said.

  “So there’s that,” said Asher.

  He took me back, and Lia was there. By the time I got back into my room, she was wide-eyed and awake.

  “Where have you been?” she said. “I thought I had missed it. I woke up and you were nowhere to be found. You didn’t go to the Gathering without me, did you?”

  “I wouldn’t just leave you behind,” I said, my mind still full of Asher––from his cat paw gracefulness, to his cryptic warnings and obfuscations. “You should know me better than that.”

  There was something that Asher didn’t want me to know. And what had that been about Ballard? He didn’t know himself?

  If he didn’t, who did? Certainly not me.

  * * *

  The Lenoir Finding Party consisted of Maria Lenoir and the male vampire she had come to the banquet with. His name was Pier Alexander.

  Pier Alexander and Maria Lenoir were waiting for all thirteen of the Wiccan Initiates when Lia and I arrived. I saw them whispering behind their hands. Lia and I had our maps out, but there was no need. The Gathering had been designed so that the central chamber––The Star Room as I called it––was easily accessed. It was here that we were to be indoctrinated into the ways of Magic.

  I put away my map. I didn’t know what I expected, but not this. It was a sandpit. Exposed rocks jutted from the earth like teeth. I could follow the fissures up, into seating areas. I half-expected the werewolves to be seated up there, or else running around, practicing.

  They were not.

  Instead the sandpit was filled with the other Initiates––eleven girls from all over Europe––which raised even more questions in my mind. Such as, Do I even belong here? I was, after all, an American girl, from Massachusetts, U.S.A.

  Why had I been chosen?

  They were presided over by various witches and wizards, the only one of which I recognized was the Alpha female, who had spoken at the Welcoming Ceremony. She had shocking blue highlights in her hair––her cheekbones were so angular they threw the rest of her face into shadow. I didn’t know her name. I felt like I had messed up. But who could blame me? Maria Lenoir was, even now, giving me a look that could kill. It was almost as if she wanted me dead. She looked at her partner and laughed about something. He continued to whisper.

  I looked around but there weren’t very many other people here. The Star Room could’ve seated everyone in the Gathering––all the werewolves, Wiccans, shape changers, and vampires.

  Asher was absent, persona non grata. But I did see one of the wizards from the Welcoming Ceremony––the lighthearted one––up in the rocks, by himself. Two crags obscured his face, but he was watching us. He looked intent on something. So I wasn’t the only one here who had a lot to think about. I memorized his face.

  The lady with the highlights said, “Good morning! I see that we are all here. Wonderful, wonderful.”

  Lia and I hurried to our positions. We stood side by side.

  “My name is Veruschka Ravenseal. It is a pleasure to meet you. I have no doubt that we will soon know each other quite well. This is Mariska Coven,” she said, indicating another witch, whose hair this time was streaked (but badly) in candybright green.

  Camille had hair like theirs, except hers was candybright red.

  “Mariska is from the Covens, the coven Covens, as you may have gleaned from her last name,” said Veruschka Ravenseal.

  I had to get used to that; it was like the whole King Cat Dog thing––everything was backwards.

  “For those of you who don’t know, that is a northerly coven, the exact location of which is their secret to disclose. I myself am from Ravenseal. You should all have received your letters, and know where that is. Can anyone guess?”

  “Prague,” said one.

  I peeked at Lia, who was looking at me from the corner of her eyes. She knew verbatim the XYZ’s and ABC’s of everything Mistress Genevieve had not thought fit to teach me.

  “And, of course, Fanishwar Harcort, from House Harcort.” Veruschka Ravenseal pointed her out.

  Fanishwar Harcort inclined her head. She had beautiful liquid-blue eyes. Her hair was candybright purple. “We are from England,” said Fanishwar Harcort, introducing herself in four little words, and her entire coven, who seemed present, even though they were not.

  The covens had sent delegates to represent themselves. It was very New World.

  “If you have guessed it yet, although have you? The purpose of the Gathering is twofold. One, we like to meet every few years––”

  “It’s been twenty-five since the last one,” said Mariska Coven.

  “Yes, thank you,” said Veruschka––she looked at the candybright green witch. “As I was saying,” said Veruschka Ravenseal... She waited to see if there would be another interruption. “Every few years we get together... To say hello... To exchange the best spells. But mainly to introduce our new chosen ones.” She seemed to relish the last two words.

  “Tell them why,” said Mariska.

  “I’ll get to that,” said Veruschka. “But first the other reason. Magic, you see, is mag-i-cal. Does anyone know what I mean by that?”

  One of the Initiates raised her hand. A blonde girl in a ponytail. “It can be used in-structively or de-structively,” she trilled. She said it like she was reciting from a textbook. I caught Lia’s eye, who winked.

  The Initiate was right.

  “The purpose of the Schools,” said Veruschka, “was to instruct young witches and wizards in the ways of Wicca. We could not have reckless crafters going about, doing whatever they pleased. That was how the trouble began in the first place. Therefore, it was decided, that the Wiccan coming of age would be after the seventeenth summer, but before the twenty-fifth. Too soon, and there’s no appreciation. Too late, the mind cannot attain fully-fledged status. Brains have a nasty habit of becoming close-minded.”

  I listened on, interested.

  “This Gathering is like Jubilee. For far too long magical upheaval has reduced the covens––to speak nothing of our cousins, the Sons and Daughters of Romulus.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Fanishwar Harcort.

  “That is why,” said Veruschka Ravenseal
, looking around at all of us, “we have chosen to meet here, of all places––at this temple of significance...”

  I didn’t get it. What made this place so special?

  “Amid the trenches of the Last War. The war we wizards made upon ourselves.”

  “It was not our fault.”

  “I am tired of running from that chestnut. I am here to tell you that it was.... But I get ahead of myself. Let bygones be bygones. And wizards wizards,” said Veruschka Ravenseal. “We have Initiates to initiate.”

  She brought up her hands, from her long sleeves, of which only the hands had been visible; it was just a moment but I saw the adamantine swirls, like a fine tracery of liquid steel, that were different for each witch and wizard. They began at her thumb and twisted themselves up to a life-spot at the crook of her elbow––they extended themselves to the index and middle finger of her right hand.

  It was said that a witch’s arm was her delta, through which her magic flowed. The symbol of Power of all true crafters was in their Mark.

  Magic flowed through her arm into her fingertips. It lit up her features and all other lights died out.

  She cupped the flame in her hand and looked to each of us––a fledged Wiccan witch––and it was like seeing a shadow reflection.

  I could be her.

  I could be her.

  I could be her.

  I and the other Initiates stood in darkness. The Wiccans surrounded us. Their lights popped on and moved about us. I could follow the slow trailing of their robes. The silver symbols like bright fish lurking in deep depths. Veruschka Ravenseal raised her voice.

  I wondered who had elected her; if there was even an election. Was Magic run by committee? I didn’t know.

  But it felt like Ravenseal was the best.

  Like the other Houses had to kowtow to it. Which reminded me of the Lenoir. How in their arrogance they considered themselves the only vampires. Was Ravenseal the only House?

  I didn’t know how we could all exist, if it was even possible. Perhaps that was the point.

  Ravenseal battled House Harcort, which battled House Coven.

  I rubbed the thumb and index and middle fingers of my right hand together, imagining myself with the Wiccan Mark.

  Imagining if I could possibly be her. This Mythic Chick.