Neophyte

by T. D. McMichael

  “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.

  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.”

  “Lennox! ’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.

  Massimo raised his glass. “Welcome,” he said, “to Tungleskins! That’s what we call it, when a beast of unknown origin is on the loose, a tungleskin. What I want you two to do is find it, and then, if you please, kill the monster, do you think you can do that for me? In return, I’ll do you a favor.”

  He sang the last part.

  “I’ll look into whatever you want––but no promises, Lennox! They’re too easy to make!” said Massimo. “What do you want, anyway? I know you didn’t come here for the company, Lennoxlove.”

  “His name’s Selwyn. Halsey will fill you in on the rest?”

  “Ah, so that’s your name, is it! And a good one, too. Well, my dear, tell old Mas.”

  It was a moment before I could respond. “The Dioscuri grabbed him from me, in Rome,” I said. “He can turn into a black cat––a panther; and he’s Eclectic.”

  Massimo rubbed his hands together. I was uncertain how much I should reveal, but if it meant saving Selwyn’s life... “Good, good, that’s good,” he said. “But, did you say Dioscuri? All right, all right. A deal’s a deal. I’ll see what I can do. But I’ll want a pelt. Something I can hang over the bar, Lennox. It w
ould be nice to have this place filled up again. I have debts, you know. Not that that matters. Do you remember Barney? Eaten. They found his mackintosh. Blood all over it. You stop this whatever-it-is, and I’ll find your friend. Do we have a deal?”

  Lennox and Massimo left off with business, and after several toasts––none of which I drank––the meeting was concluded.

  Maybe it was the aether, but it didn’t seem to hit me, until just then: We were going into the forest to find this creature––to kill it, if we could––as soon as possible. I unzipped my bag and pulled out the Everything book. It was never too late to become Adept.

  Chapter 12 – Quintessence

  Could it be? Was the tungleskin doing these killings the grey wolf? What else could it be? Yet, I had always imagined the grey wolf as a kind of sangoma. My therian. Somehow made corporeal.

  But then I remembered the snow and thought, It can’t be; the grey wolf made no paw prints... So how it had eaten anybody....

  The following night (because Lennox was a vampire, so naturally the best time of day would be to creep in the woods at night) we left our hotel room, and made our way to Letná Park. It was past the Hunger Wall, all the way to Lookout Point, from which we had a stunning view of the Vltava as it flowed past Prague Castle. It reminded me of Rome, in a way, with the many bridges crossing the river, and how the Tiber sparkled at night.

  An Englishman, passing by, warned us to be careful. “It’s not safe after dark,” he said.

  A small restaurant and café were closing. Tourists were heading down the stone steps, abandoning Letná Park, which led to the embankment below. We were soon alone.

  I had flipped through the Everything book back at the hotel room, learning some quick spells. The Grigori section was full of hard-R words. Words like noranveror and smáskitligr. Lennox had watched me studying, lost in thought. It wasn’t until I hit upon an especially potent spell called a feiknstafir, that Lennox said, “I’m Marked too, you know. My scars.”