Neophyte

by T. D. McMichael

  Rome was next. I took the newspaper with trembling fingers.

  GANGLAND VIOLENCE ERUPTS AS ATTENTION IS DRAWN TO MOTORCYCLE CLUB IN TRASTEVERE

  ROME––Vigili urbani, the city’s municipal police, responded Sunday night to reports of bag-snatching and other disturbances committed by individuals racing motorcycles. It turned deadly, however, when police discovered the whereabouts of their secret lair. By Emma Skarborough.

  “‘Upon arrival, a fight broke out,’” I read, “‘whereupon the gang’s hideout, La Luna Blu, went up in flames.’––Oh, Ballard––” I said. “‘Members of the so-called motorcycle pack fled into the night, along with a number of wild dogs, police believe may have been involved in a heavily-financed illegal underground dog-fighting ring.’ What? Isn’t she, like, your cousin? What is she doing?” I said.

  Ballard snatched the paper out of my hands. “‘Mr. and Mrs. Gaven Overstreet are expected to face an inquiry into the illegal goings-on, along with heavy fines and possible jail sentences,’” he read. “Halls, I need to get back.”

  Three attacks, in three papers, in three different cities––Gaven and Lia in jail–– “That’s not even counting the Benandanti,” I said to myself. The Stromovka had burned down just last night. I looked at Ballard, wondering how much we should tell Lux. He was Ravenseal, after all. Better not, I thought.

  “Professor Lux, someone’s destroying Houses, why?” I asked.

  “Not just Houses,” said Lux. “The Vampire Bank was attacked too, although it survived. It’s been happening for weeks... Arsons, brushfires... it’s code.... You have to know how to interpret the headlines... It means the Dark Order is back....”

  There was a series of lightning strikes, followed by bodies emerging from the aether. Professor Lux scrambled to adjust the rings on his fingers. Wizards and witches were popping into existence everywhere, including Lennox.

  Veruschka was with Bonewits and Scroop. They were looking indignantly at me. “You!” said the Head of House Ravenseal. Others were materializing as well.

  “Seems we’re all here,” said another wizard, a stranger, I’d never met him before.

  “House business, Blackstock, the Council has no jurisdiction,” said Veruschka, her nostrils flaring.

  “I’ve heard otherwise,” cut in the wizard named Blackstock. He pointed to Lennox. “According to this vampire, Halsey Rookmaaker is free of any responsibility to your House.”

  Veruschka was irate. “You can’t be serious? Vampires are not trustworthy, Artemidorus.”

  “I can prove it,” said Lennox. “Or rather, Halsey can.”

  “Vampires are our allies,” said Blackstock. “Besides, Veruschka, the proof is in that young lady’s backpack, if you’ll listen...” The Council of Magic was stitched in silver on his magic robes.

  “What proof? What are you talking about?” said Veruschka.

  “Just that she belongs to another House,” said Blackstock, smiling pleasantly.

  Lennox motioned for me to unzip my backpack.

  I took it off and unzipped it, kneeling down; there were dozens of witches and wizards present. The Directory spilled out along with the Everything book––but also my Wiccan diploma and the red marker.

  “May I?” said Mr. Blackstock.

  I handed him the marker along with my diploma from St. Martley’s.

  “Ah, yes, Genevieve’s House! And what’s this? A Marker? Well, well, seems you were supposed to be selected by someone else.”

  BANG! Ballard transformed into a werewolf. Several of the witches and wizards reacted, brandishing their marks, before settling down.

  “She runs with wolves, Artemidorus. Werewolves. You know what that means,” said Veruschka, insinuating the worst.

  Ballard snarled––but his attention was drawn elsewhere––to the Master House, itself.

  “See? Not broken. What did I tell you?” said Scroop, snidely.

  “It’s not that, it’s just––”

  Veruschka suggested we take “it” off the streets, but Artemidorus overrode her.

  “Go on, Miss Rookmaaker, what is it?” he said to me. We were obviously on his territory.

  He handed me back the Marker.

  I held it up, rubbing it with my Wiccan fingertips. This was mine, I thought. It meant I was supposed to be taken by a different House. Not Veruschka’s. Only, the person who was supposed to have done so, wasn’t able to select me––had been prevented. By whom? The Lenoir? The Master House? I looked at Blackstock....

  “I’m Halsey Rookmaaker––and, well, House Rookmaaker,” I said. “The person who gave me this was in my House. Only, he’s an Eclectic. We both are. But that’s all over with, because I believe I can find my parents’ House–– I belong in Rome, not in Ravenseal.”

  I looked at the Marker with the number six on it. Where I had been rubbing it, words had appeared. Written on the Marker, in handwriting that could only have been Selwyn’s, was a message:

  “BEWARE THE DARK PATH.”

  Blackstock motioned for a witch, who whispered in his ear, briefly. “I see,” he said.

  Ballard continued to sniff and paw the ground. Had Ballard taken the opportunity to see if Selwyn was really at the Master House? His fur was standing on end. I looked at him, thinking, What is the Dark Path? Hurriedly, I rubbed the Marker. The message disappeared. I rubbed it again. It reappeared. There must’ve been some kind of spell put upon it. I erased it before anyone could see.

  “According to Siobhan,” said Blackstock, “there is no record of House Rookmaaker in our Heraldic Hall. However, the Marker was sent––which means, either the Hall of Records has made a mistake, which I doubt, or someone does not want that House found.”

  “There! You see? She belongs to me!” said Veruschka.

  “Having said that,” Blackstock went on, “I have read no rule that an Initiate must absolutely complete a course of study with any House, regardless of how they may have been selected. Miss Rookmaaker, is it your intention to join House Ravenseal? They would do wonders for your career, you know?”

  I shook my head no.

  “Then, if you’re certain,” said Blackstock, “I have no choice but to free you of that commitment, and that, Veruschka, is final. Now, Miss Rookmaaker, you are aware that magistrae, or mistresses as they’re sometimes known, outside of Prague, must be thirds, are you not, if they’re to lead their own House? Even if you were to find House Rookmaaker, I could not let you proceed, unless it was held in interreges––an interim Head running the show until the day you turn fledged––at which point the House and its running would be turned over to you––with all of the responsibility that that entails. So that’s what I’m recommending. I’m going to give you an opportunity to solve this little puzzle. If House Rookmaaker exists––as you say it does––and you can find it––then I’m sure we’ll have gained a wonderful new House––or an old House, as the case may be. Veruschka?”

  She eyed him, saying nothing. “Good,” said Blackstock. “Then, if there’s nothing else––”

  “There is one other thing,” said Lennox.

  “By all means. Anything for one of the Lenoir,” said Blackstock.

  Privately, I thought, Who would attack the vampires?

  Lennox whistled. Massimo appeared, followed by Menelaus.

  “He’s raving––and that’s when he’s coherent,” said Menelaus, dragging someone behind him.

  “We think aetherheads got to him, sir,” said Massimo, showing us.

  Selwyn was with them! He looked terrible: Hair all over the place, like he had been held somewhere against his will, or worse, driven mad...

  I tried reading his mind, but it was shut down. The aether cloud was still around Selwyn. I could not penetrate it.

  “We think someone may have done something to him, sir, tampered with his mind, likesay. He’s not cut,” said Massimo proudly. “His therian is still intact.”

  The rest of the wizards made way for Selwyn who
stood before us––his hair was disheveled, his eyes a dazzling shade of blue.

  “Aether. I knew it,” said one.

  “I haven’t seen this brand of magic before,” said Blackstock, peering at Selwyn intently. “It’s almost like–– but no––that’s impossible. Lux––you’re a virtuoso––see if you can read his mind.”

  Blackstock stood back. Lux rolled up his sleeves. I again was treated to his amazing mark. But whatever he tried, it didn’t work.

  “Even with the tridents, my magic is too weak,” he said.

  “The reason I ask,” said Blackstock, “is because I’ve read about this. But it was so long ago. It’s something the Fifth of Fourth used to do. Mess in wizards’ minds. But they’re gone now––they cannot be back––”

  “I have reason to believe that that is not entirely true, sir,” said Lux. “I assume you’ve been reading the newspapers?”

  “Houses are being destroyed. So what of it?” said Blackstock.

  “Wasn’t that His maneuver, sir? I mean, back in the day? He was a necromancer and they never die,” said Lux.

  “But the Dark Lord back––it’s just impossible––”

  “You know I’ve told you about this Hiving business will come to no good,” said Lux. “Wizards and witches should be able to make their own decisions. The ardanes are more like amendments, after all––they can be repealed.”

  “Even if that were so, we cannot fight Shadows. Let them come out into the open, Lux.”

  “But this type of enemy does not fight in the open, sir,” said Lux. “Whoever’s doing this is organized––everywhere. It’s just as He operated before.”

  I watched Veruschka out of the corner of my eye, but if she was involved in any of this, she didn’t let on.

  Ballard trotted off into one of the corners and came back as himself. I tried to read his eyes, but he avoided my gaze. Selwyn was alternately in and out, mumbling nonsense words, or else catatonic. “Sed esse in silentium,” he hissed, “sed esse in silentium.”

  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 Rookmaaker, 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.”