Neophyte / Adept (The Wiccan Diaries, Books 2-3)

by T. D. McMichael

  The mist felt like vaporous tentacles swallowing me whole and playing tickle with my skin that was covered in goosebumps. Some kind of barrier separated the outside world from knowing about this place. I could only assume it was the work of the warlocks Ballard had said helped I Gatti shield campagna and the Gathering from unwanted non-magical attention. For everything that could transform, or else conjure, or otherwise bend reality––such as vampires and their ability to live forever––demanded from me a respect and acknowledgement that they too must be magical.

  We were in an underground facility, like a loading dock almost, except it went on forever. I Gatti’s motorcycles formed a huge double line. The Riders putting down their stands, and stepping off them. I followed those in front of me, and removed my helmet. My long black hair cascaded down my back. The rest continued to pour in. Underground the engines sounded five times fiercer. Ballard was looking ahead to his sister. I could see her and Gaven talking to someone in long, dark robes.

  Around us, hewn from rock, was a kind of cathedral-sized debarkation zone. The sunlight pierced the mist from the gigantic opening. The last of I Gatti arrived and the engines cut out. Ventilation swept the fumes away. I looked one last time at the meandering Italian hillsides, and in the distance, Rome, like a citadel, standing sparkling, in the afternoon sun. Suddenly the voices ahead were amplified. Ballard tapped my shoulder. “They’re calling for you,” he said. I looked ahead and saw what he meant. Lia was waving frantically. “Halsey!” she said. She hardly ever spoke to me. It must be important.

  “Go on,” said Ballard, “I’ll catch up.”

  But I didn’t want to. Leaving him wasn’t an option. Whoever the figure in robes was, she looked at me like I was a bug. It was Ballard who got me to go, giving me a shove. I reached back and grabbed him. “You’re coming with me,” I said. He sighed, and said, “All right.” So together we walked past the others, up to Gaven and Lia, and this new person. Lia was looking at Ballard with the same look as the other lady had for me. “Did I say Ballard, Ballard?” she said.

  “Shut up, Lia.”

  “Ballard has a point, we came in pairs,” said Gaven, “we should stay that way.” Lia glared at him. “That means you and Halsey... and Ballard and me. It’s check-in time.” He patted Ballard on the back.

  I finally stood next to them. Lia glowered at Ballard, who returned the look. But she said “Hi,” to me.

  I could suddenly see her overwhelming absolute sheer joy and euphoria for where we were. This rush of unspoken shared affection. It was almost like she said “Can you believe it?”, and yes I could, and no I could not.

  Yes I could believe that at this point she and I were potentials, if not shoo-ins for magic, no I could not believe that she looked at me with affection and warmth. We had a past, after all. A past that could freeze unfreez-y things. Here she was, Lia, like it was all forgotten. And I could swear, seeing her there, that it was. That was magic all in itself. Lia said, “This is her, this is Halsey–– She has a thing for you to sign,” she said to me.

  The witch read down her clipboard. “Rookmaaker, Halsey. Sign here, please.” She eyed me beadily. I could see where Lia had signed in big, loopy lettering. There weren’t that many of us Wiccan potentials yet.

  “Where are the others?” I asked.

  Lia had done hers with a flourish. I mimicked it and signed my Rookmaaker in style. For some kinds of signatures demand as much. That you are here. That you are present. And that you have a fire. An élan. Lia looked on with approval.

  “Represent,” she said, proving once more that we seemed to have some kind of mind link, a shared exultation for the things to come.

  “This is it,” said the stern-faced witch. “At least for Wicca. You will soon understand why.”

  I looked at Lia.

  “As for the others,” went on the witch. “Vampires, et al... they came in the night. I would not presume to monitor the Sons and Daughters of Romulus.”

  “That’s us,” said Gaven, cheerily. We thanked her and went on. Large doorways led off in all directions.

  “Stay together,” said Lia. The rest of the werewolves filed in, past what’s-her-face, who seemed to have channeled my landlady. Ballard held my palm. His paw was firm and sweaty. I cared not.

  Lia somehow pulled a switcheroo and started walking with me. It was a vast subterranean complex. Gaven knew where he was going. He walked at the snake’s head of our human daisy chain side by side with Ballard who had reluctantly surrendered my hand. Every now and then he would look back at Lia and I, would Ballard, amazed that we were not fighting. Overhead the rock tunnels had been dug out by hand. Magic had made this place. Torchlight followed us wherever we went, but there were still dark corners, and secret places, where those of us could whisper, who were so inclined. No doubt a requirement with so many magical delegations pouring in from all over Europe and the beyond. Was the United States like this? St. Martley’s was so self-sufficient, a world unto itself. It was hard to imagine the Sisters having to bow to any outside influences. There must be South American vampires, mustn’t there, and Wiccans there, and Asiatic enclaves of shape changers––not to mention everywhere else. I carried three things with me. The first was my diary. The second, my parents’ hand-me-down copy of the Magus Codex, a kind of beginner’s spell book for Neophytes, I had dug into the previous summer with mixed results. And the last was my laptop.

  We left the rough portion and exited through the underground tunnel into a silver and porcelain hall. Red porphyry columns with inlaid stones and high overhead ceilings with bright heaven-spun lights. Miniature obelisks littered the sides of the round hall. We filed in. There were two more figures in robes, ready to greet us. Gaven handled all of the ceremonies. Each member of I Gatti was given a care package, which included a map. It was something seeing these hardened female warriors and guys ripped from body magazines holding boutique bundles with wrapping paper sticking out of them, but that’s what they were doing. My own included a map. It looked like a snowflake almost, with a huge central circle, like a nucleus, and then, clearly delineated, sections for Werewolves, Wiccans and Vampires. The Magical Three.

  In shape, it was very like the Aurelian Wall. The geographic boundaries were clearly marked. Obviously the masterminds behind this little get-together, say what they would, didn’t want the particular ‘races’ mingling. There were tunnels that led off to No-Man’s Land, which must be like the one we had just left, and rooms that were clearly outlined, but didn’t have a purpose. The central room was for the Gathering...

  My pulse quickened deep in my chest. I was leaving hand marks on my books. My fingers were nervous with sweat. It ate into the cloth of my diary. I had been neglecting my diary. That happened when I didn’t have time to pause and reflect. It was all happening too quickly. I suddenly wanted more time. But I was out of time. What did they expect me to do, invoke, raise up, incorporealize, bewitch, ensorcell, do sleight of hand? I was a fraud, a flimflammer. I wasn’t special.

  Lia completely took me out of my head. “I still need to take you shopping,” she said to me, her eyes gleaming, and her smile as radiant as a million suns.

  Gaven continued whispering with the two docents. I took the opportunity to look them over more fully. These two were a man and woman, in appearance exactly as the woman who had signed in Lia and I. Witches and wizards. Their robes were intricate and flowing; the silver-bright threads imbued with flowing lunavotum symbols. The cloth looked alive. Obviously it had been enchanted with something. They continued with Gaven, but I noticed them look from the corners of their eyes at Lia and me. Gaven laughed, and they shook hands. They left us. It was just the werewolves and I standing in the hall.

  I felt like a third wheel. Although fourth would be more accurate.

  I felt between was what it was. Not a werewolf. Not a vampire. Not a Wiccan.

  I realized what was wrong. I should be here with St. Martley’s. In fact, I had the strangest sensation that St. Ma
rtley’s didn’t even know anything about what was going on here. I decided to get to the bottom of it.

  The whispering was like a barrelful of loud and whispery things. I stood nervously on one toe then the next, and blew the strand of hair out of my face. My forehead buzzed with a million thoughts and ideas. Gaven looked like a sculpture decorating the center of the hall. We all looked to him. I suddenly admired him very much. He and I had never really spoken. I shushed my inner monologue and waited for him to speak. Lia bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

  “We’re here,” he said, he looked from one to the other of us; I could feel the atmosphere change. “I have just been speaking with Stavros and Gisela. They are from a northern coven. Not Prague. Everyone is here. We were the last to arrive. But there’s a problem,” he said.

  “Isn’t there always?” said someone.

  I listened, wondering what it could be. Gaven made sure the doors were closed. He looked to one of his guys––Paolo, I think––huge and buff and put stars in your eyes. A thumbs-up was passed between them. Gaven continued with what he had to say.

  “I know that you’ll want to get moved in, but a word of caution first. We arrive optimistic; not stupid. The Wiccans have informed me that the vampires arriving was not without incident. Part of the purpose of the Gathering is to renew old ties. Risky wanted this. I trust Risky. There is a Welcoming Ceremony later today. I and the warlocks and everyone who worked on this to make it the safest place possible have supplied the Gathering with whatever you may need––that includes food, clothing, and sleeping accommodations. We can live here indefinitely. In just a moment I will break you into groups. Each group will be assigned a Team Leader. He or she will have the responsibility of protecting that group. Do not make it difficult for them to do so. Leaders report to me.”

  There was some general nodding. Some of the faces looked a little glum. Others were angry. They didn’t like this business about the vampires.

  “This is the last time that we will have an opportunity to be alone like this. Just because the Wiccans say something, doesn’t make it so,” said Gaven. “Remember that.”

  He changed gears.

  “While you are here, you represent us––the werewolves. Do not give them an opportunity to point the finger at us. Lia, Halsey, as Wiccan potentials, you have carte blanche, and also a bit of a conundrum ahead for yourselves. I will not tell you to say this or not say that. Nor will I ask that you spy on either of the other groups. The better you are able to move between Wiccans and werewolves, the closer our ties to the vampires, the better for all sides involved.”

  He proceeded to identify the Team Leaders. One was Paolo, whom he regarded as a beta, a number two. The werewolves cheered when Paolo’s name was called.

  Gaven called three others. Their names were Locke, Leander and Liesel. I got assigned to Locke.

  I was hit with an overwhelming fact. This Gathering was about Politics. For all this talk about magical partnerships, the real reason we were all here was to check each other out.

  Gaven assigning me to one of the werewolves, when in reality I was here as one of the Wiccans––invited by a vampire, no less––the letter was still in my diary––gave me my anchor. It gave me my freedom to fail. It was like he was saying if I didn’t make it with the Wiccans, I could always find my place with the werewolves.

  That was the same lifeline Lennox had extended to me. Because it would always be us. If everything else failed, Lennox and I could always go live on Rat Rock.

  There was some whispering that Lia should’ve been made a Team Leader. But I knew better. She and I would soon have very hectic schedules. Hope, hope.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me,” said Gaven, “I need to go have a talk with the delegates from Ravenseal, and the other magical houses, and the Lenoir. Leaders show your groups to their rooms. Everyone is on their best behavior. Be good.”

  He found the door he was looking for, and before I knew it he was gone.

  “What did he mean by other magical houses?” I asked Lia. “And who, or what, is a Ravenseal?” Lia was also in my group. She shushed me as we walked along. Locke, as a werewolf, was unusual. He looked guarded. Like his mind was closed. I looked for Ballard, but he was with Liesel’s group. I saw him looking at her butt as she led them off in another group through separate doorways. There were doors and doors, in this place. And miles of tunnels. Locke explained. But he had no interest in babysitting a bunch of us. Nor should he. Everyone here was an adult. The werewolves had all come of age. Except for Ballard. And I––I was almost eighteen. My birthday was in three months. Anyway it gave Lia and I an opportunity for some privacy. And after the initial shock, I found I quite liked being in her company. She said:

  “Ravenseal is the coven from Prague. There are also the Harcorts and the Covens. But the Ravenseals have the most power. They are from where Magic began originally. So I hear. The Covens come from really far away, so I guess they don’t matter. I bet that’s where the name comes from. Covens. Otherwise they have a serious lack of imagination.”

  “And the Harcorts?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I think they’re British or something. We’ll see. Oh. And that’s another thing. Gaven was furious. So I guess he doesn’t agree.”

  “With what?” I said.

  “If we are, well, indoctrinated and everything...”

  “Yes?” I said.

  “I mean, if we’re chosen to be, well, you know––Anyway we have to take one of their names.”

  “What d’you mean?” I said really fast.

  “It’s like a House name. House Harcort, House Coven, House Ravenseal. I would become Lia Harcort. Or you might be Halsey Ravenseal. You’ll see.”

  “You mean we have to take their name?” I said. Something about that really bothered me.

  “I know right. Gaven was really upset. He wants me to take his name, you see.”

  She said it with a certain pride. How could she not? He was a total hottie.

  We meandered through very confined spaces. Some of the tunnels barely fit the description. We had to go through them single file, or else duck low. Glass globes of gas lamps were in niches in the walls. Other sections were more hi-tech. I don’t know if that’s the right word. It was almost like the Gathering had been built on the bones of something far more ancient.

  We were finally shown to our rooms. I stood under the glow lamps and marked the space on my map. Accommodations were tight, but manageable. I could hear voices in the distance. Locke said, “This is you.” Lia and I had a compartment all to ourselves. Perhaps that was by design. It consisted of a bunk bed cut into the wall, a minuscule closet at the end, and a workspace for a single occupant––so obviously we weren’t going to be spending too much time in here. Lia called top. So I guess that made me a bottom. We did have a slatted door that could close. And it was a wing of the compound occupied entirely by werewolves, so I tucked my diary under my pillow. And I put the Magus Codex and my laptop under my bed. All so that Lia could not see. Next I reread Maria Lenoir’s letter. She was here right now. The docent had said that everyone had arrived. That meant Dallace and Camille, if she was also coming, had arrived. I had allies.

  Maria’s letter was like a threatening specter––and I wondered what she would be like.

  Old, probably. I had never really spoken to Lennox about vampire aging. Did that mean she had Powers as well? She had passed the Agonies. She must have. And she was not alone. The Gathering was filled with dangerous things that could kill me. I needed to be wary and stay alert, and above all, protect the other werewolves.

  Somehow I didn’t think I would be having those dreams while staying here. The dreams were about possibilities, after all. The things I could become. I remembered Mistress Genevieve, in one of her tiresome speeches, I missed now that I was no longer their chief subject. She had said that for a young person like me I could be anything. “Right now, you have doorways open to you. But it won’
t always be so. We make our choices. Soon you will have to choose for yourself.”

  I had. Instead of the world, I was in a very small closet. It wasn’t a room at all. “I hope the food is good,” said Lia.

  With Lia.

  Chapter 10 – Welcome

  There was a large rectangular hall listed on the map in what I had come to privately call neutral territory––not a part of one of the delegations’ territory. It was the dining hall. I labelled it MEADPALACE. Somehow that seemed apt. The Meadpalace was where we would be meeting later today. So Lia and I spent the remainder of the time getting to know the werewolves on our block. That is, Lia introduced me around some. If I might be one of them some day, I should at least get to know them, right? There was no segregation while we were here. Guys slept with girls, and vice-versa.

  There was Raina. She was a beta. You could tell it by their natures. When Lia invited her to sit down with us she jumped at the opportunity. Lia warned me. “You have to be careful with Betas. They’re the tricksters.”

  Lorentz. An Alpha. “Everybody wants to be Gaven,” said Lia.

  Pendderwenn, Blunt, Giorgio, Berenice, Michelle. I tried to remember all of their names. But it was too much.

  “That’s pretty much everyone in the Pack, of those who are in this group,” said Lia.

  I could tell them by their beauty. The werewolves were earthy, splendid and pure. I could tell them by their beautiful and bright smiles and untainted spiritual openness. They had been whelped in Roma.