Lia bolted down her breakfast, a chocolatey cappuccino, and two pieces of bruschetta, a lovely Italian word, meaning toast.
We were late for practice, and I had not eaten anything. “You can’t conjure on an empty stomach,” Lia chastised me.
“Honestly, I’m more worried about throwing up when they realize I can’t do Magic,” I said, as we hurried along.
The tunnels went all over the place. I frequently had to check my map. Finally, we got there.
The central chamber was even more ominous than I remembered––perhaps my last visit, and Maria’s snickering, had made it that way for me. The sandpit looked gladiatorial. One wizard was standing there. Unlike the previous time, nobody else was up in the stands, laughing behind their hands, and whispering secret nothings about me.
Was I being paranoid?
Anyway.
As was our wont, Lia and I showed up late. We stood in a line next to the other Initiates, whom I could swear, said, “About time.” The wizard looked at us sternly.
He was––awesome-looking; there was no other way to describe it. One of those people beyond description.
He was in a loose-fitting white shirt with an open front. No wizard garb for him. The sleeves were rolled up. It looked like something someone would have worn to a duel... two hundred years ago––
I could see his Mark. It looked like a scar.
It twisted viciously up the length of his forearm; I wondered who had cut him... If that was even the right word.
Bright bits of metal, like rings with fingernails on them, were on his thumb, index, and middle fingers. They looked like talons.
But when I saw his face...
He had dark hair; it fell in locks. His shining, bright eyes, were like two limpid pools; they invited you for a swim; to get lost in them. He had a tall alabaster forehead, but on him it looked reckless and daring.
He waited for us to stop gushing among ourselves, perhaps used to female attention. The other Initiates and I couldn’t help ourselves. “Oh boy,” said Lia.
I sympathized. He was totally and completely incredible-looking. It made your mind go blank just staring at him. Where had he come from? Why were we just seeing him now?
He introduced himself, but I don’t think any of us heard him. “Ladies...” he said, trying to gather our attention.
He smiled, and it was dazzling. One of the Initiates popped. She reappeared someplace else.
“Spontaneous crafting. I like it,” he said.
He waited for her to come back down, before he began again. She had traveled without thinking about it, all the way up into the rocks.
“My name is Professor Lux,” he said. His voice was mellow, articulate. It said things exactly how they should be said.
The other girls giggled. One of them made a joke.
“Please,” he said. “We have not much time. You may call me Lux.”
Lux smiled and I felt my stomach butterflies. They were winging around, completely out of control. It wasn’t enough that I was going to have to fail, but I had to do so in front of Professor Lux! Not fair!
“I am the Styles Master,” he said.
“What coven are you from?” asked the girl who had spoken before. She had heavily-lidded bronze-colored eyes and witch-black hair. She looked at him like a bird of prey.
“Ravenseal,” he said.
The other Initiates nodded. As far as they were concerned, it was the only House, and they would be joining it shortly.
“My job is to prepare you for the Wiccan world...” He said. “Yes, you had a question?”
“How old are you?”
They giggled again.
Lux shot it down with a wave of his off-magic hand; the other one fascinated me, particularly the scar. His Mark was so deep it was like it was embedded in his flesh. Like his arm had ceased to be an arm and was pure Magic.
“Old enough that I am used to people listening while I speak,” he said.
Lux continued. “As I was saying. Time is precious. You have had to wait a long, long time. Now suddenly things are expected from you.”
“It’s unfair,” said one.
“What’s your name?”
“Badgley.”
Professor Lux had us go down the line: so I learned that the heavily-lidded girl was Vittoria. She was Basque. From Spain.
I introduced myself and Professor Lux kept his eyes on me for a while. Lia desperately tried to nudge me.
“Well, welcome to you all. The first thing we will be doing over the next few months...”
“Months!”
There was a general complaint that this was far too long.
“Months,” said Professor Lux. “You do not just whisper a few silly words and everything is solved for you. Nor do you spellcast without the proper appreciation of the ethics involved. To speak nothing of laws––or ardanes as we will now call them.”
I glowed. Something I was up on.
“Magic is mysterious. It is mind-maddening Magic. Both in who it chooses and how it chooses them.
“I will let you in on a little secret,” said Lux. “Magic chooses everyone. But so few actually want it. They let it go.”
He stared around at all of us. “That’s part of the test, you see,” he said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would do anything for Magic,” said Badgley.
“Well, you’ll be given that opportunity,” said Lux.
“If you’re the Styles Master,” said Vittoria, dragging it through the dirt. “Then you must be proficient in all styles. But why do you wear the rings?”
There was a consensus that this was a very good question. It was also completely rude. Professor Lux, give him credit, let it slide off. In fact, he answered the question.
“I don’t Craft anymore; not without these rings. And even then I choose to solve my situational problems by any means other than actual Magic. The reasons are my concern. You had a question.”
“Yes sir,” said one of the Initiates, whose name, I believe, was Shaharizan. “It’s just that––forgive me––your scars are very deep––and as you’re the Styles Master...”
“These are not scars. They are my Wiccan Mark––something most of us will be learning about––”
“Yes but, like, uh, Vittoria said...”
“Speak...”
“If you know every style, your style must be every style.”
“It’s true. My virtue is Virtuosity. These are the marks of someone with that style.”
There was a moment of silent awe.
“I told you,” said Lia who nudged me again.
“The Wiccan Virtues manifest themselves in the orientation, dimensions, and complexity of our Wiccan Marks, which is why Wiccans are very particular about who they let see them. Know the Mark, and you know the person. Virtuosity cuts through almost everything. That is why it is so pronounced. And prized. Whereas Malleability is hardly ever seen. It’s transitory. It can be anything. In that sense, it is the antithesis of Virtuosity. Virtuosity is bold and open. It says, ‘Look at me!’ Malleability is trickier than that.”
He proceeded to list the Wiccan Marks.
“Insight is straight. Very little detouring in the vein work,” he said. “It wants to know.
“Discretion. Discretion puts up walls. Very ornate marks. A lot of fury. But it’s to mask something else.
“Severeness is thick. Humor corkscrews.
“Goodwill... The last two are peace-loving. It and Grace can sometimes appear as flowers... We have a lot to get to...”
He showed us how to direct our magic. The talons on his hand were like some kind of superconducting aid to help him focus his Magic––as though it had somehow cracked. As though he had somehow been handicapped. Despite what he said about his scars––or non-scars, if he was to be believed––there was a story there.
“Forefinger straight,” he said. “The thumb and middle finger are like wings.” He called it the W. “Make the
W,” he said.
“W for Wicca.” I watched as Vittoria milked all the attention from him she could get. He directed her hand with his own. She smirked so he could not see, as he stood behind her. I watched as she pressed herself up against him.
“Yes, well. I think you’re getting it,” he said. “How are we doing, Miss Rookmaaker?”
“Very good, sir.” I directed it and a spell erupted from my fingertips. Lia whooped. But she went back to straining with her own.
“I can’t––”
Lux held my arm. His other hand was around my waist. He was directing me from behind. I thought I might not be able to breathe anymore. Or that my panting might give me away. Instead I held my breath. What was it with Magic and hot guys?
“I have seen some Marks that wrapped themselves around the wearer’s arm, forming almost a glove,” he said into my neck.
I nodded, trying not to hyperventilate, he was so close.
“That’s very good. The Marks themselves are a callous. This is very important!” said Lux, releasing me. I breathed again. He walked among the partners, listening to them, watching as they tried to shoot one another with their Wiccan Marks. But the spells, whatever they were, were like ghosts of spells.
“The callous will form only as you practice and learn to control your Magic!” said Lux.
“So my Mark––,” said one girl.
“Will reveal itself in its own good time,” said Lux. He clapped his hands together, drawing our attention. “Next time we will be learning about ardanes. And we still have to get you guys to recite the Wiccan Rede. No Magic without the Oath, I’m afraid.”
He dismissed us.
We filed out, and it was like flames erupting. The other girls and I couldn’t stop talking about Lux.
* * *
That evening at dinner was like some kind of announcement––everyone was there again. Lia and I continued to sit with the other Initiates.
I felt very Dragon Girl. Like we were being prepped for some kind of sacrifice or something.
If the other Initiates and I and Lia were going to have some kind of camaraderie, Did it involve being thrown into the mouth of a waiting animal together or just one at a time?
“There are only so many spots,” said Vittoria. She plopped a pickled beet in her mouth. “Listen, I heard all about it. They don’t take all of us. Just some.”
“Which Wiccan coven do you think you’ll be in, Vittoria?” asked one of them.
“I want Ravenseal. It seems by far the best. What about you, Halsey?”
I dropped my fork. She was looking down the row at me.
“Ravenseal would be nice,” I said, buying time and remembering Professor Lux’s arms around me. Was it really true that the Wiccan covens only had so many spots? If so they were treating us extremely unfairly. “To tell you the truth,” I said. Vittoria’s eyebrows went up. “I don’t think I will be in any of the covens, er, Houses.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because of where I’m from,” I said.
“Which is?”
I thought about it some more. “Not here,” I said.
I wasn’t from here. I didn’t belong here. But I would make do. I would make the best of it. I will craft, I told myself.
I had... I could...
Vittoria’s baiting couldn’t get me down though; oh yes, I know you, I thought, as I looked at her.
“Well I want Ravenseal,” she said. “They seem... competent. That northern coven has a chip on its shoulder. And look at Mariska’s hair. And she’s the Head?”
Vittoria seemed utterly unconvinced.
“What about Harcort?” I asked.
“Stupid name,” said Vittoria. “Stupid House. I’d rather be a dog.”
“Hey! Watch it!” said Lia, giving her the Evil Eye.
“Oh! I forgot! You run with them... don’t you?” she said.
But it was broken up by the tinkling of silverware against crystal glass.
The delegates from the five Houses, rose to their feet–– That is, Ravenseal, Harcort, Coven, Lenoir, and The Sons and Daughters of Romulus.
Everyone quietened down. Gaven was looking dashing as always. I couldn’t help but picture him in all his six-nine magnificence being mad at the other VIPs. Could a werewolf beat a magician, or a vampire, for that matter; and, if so, were we in any danger of putting it to the test?
I also wondered how he and Lia kissed. He was super tall.
Fortunately, they had more grand designs.
“Professor Lux says the Initiates are coming along well.” Gaven indicated him.
Lux looked roguishly handsome, but he was too self-effacing to make much of the compliment. The Gathering lost interest in him. They were more interested in what the big secret was. I looked around at them all.
At all of the male and female vampires; there were over fifty of them.
The Werewolves, of course. The Pack, if anything, seemed to be growing in number. So there was a healthy dose of females in the population. Being called occurred regardless of gender. Over half of them were women.
I caught sight of Locke, who looked away from me, when he saw me staring.
And the Wiccans. So many Wiccans. Their robes were like jewels: amethysts and emeralds, rubies, and sapphires...
The men favored blue and the women a variety of hues. But there were a few outcasts. I saw the serious one.
Gaven said, “Part of any get-together is knowing how to have fun!”
Maria looked like she could disagree but didn’t say anything.
“That is why, this Saturday, the Gathering will be transformed, from a dire attempt to decide the fates of our three worlds, to an evening to remember...”
I couldn’t be sure but I thought I saw him blush. But he carried on gallantly anyway. Gaven speechmaking was something I was getting used to. But now that I knew this about him I was beginning to accept him as the Leader of Leaders––or the Host of Hosts.
If this were Paris, it would be Maria making this speech.
“Three nights from now, we will be having a Ball,” he said. “And that isn’t hyperbole!”
His joke fell flat on the ears of his audience.
“You know! A dance!” Gaven said.
My brain began catching up with what he was saying.
“Yes, each of you are encouraged to find a date, if you do not already have one. There will be dancing, and I’m sure, plenty of opportunity to get to know the rest of the many interesting people we have here with us. This Gathering,” went on Gaven, “will be attended by more than just those of you who are assembled here, so you are encouraged to look your bests. Now I know my own fiancée is probably thinking she has nothing to wear...” Nervous laughter. “Not to worry. Come tomorrow night, you officially have forty-eight hours to attend to whatever you need to attend to: including getting a date!”
Okay, now he was just being mean.
“That means the tongue-tied will need to loosen those tongues, and everyone else––all of you suave ladies and gentlemen––work that mojo!”
Definite laughter. “The Ball will begin at eight p.m., and continues until Midnight. It is an excellent opportunity to say hello to those you may not have spoken to before now, and to get those bonds of friendship solidified, which really, this whole endeavor is about anyway. Anyone else?” he said, looking around. Now that he was on a roll, Gaven seemed to be enjoying himself.
The other delegates, all of whom were female, said nothing. They just smiled at him. Gaven therefore wrapped up with this sentiment.
“If we can enjoy ourselves together for one night, just imagine what we could do if we had all the time in the world?” He sat back down.
The Meadpalace absolutely erupted.
Vittoria was off, enumerating all of the problems. “I don’t even know anyone here. Much less any of the boys. There are not hot guys here. Oh excuse me. Unless you want to get fleas.”
Lia ignored her. “You know what this means
,” she said to me. “We finally get to go shopping!”
It burst like a spell from her unformed Mark. She squee’d uncontrollably. I had to admit. Now that I thought about it, it sounded like fun.
“But who will take you?” she said to me.
Reality dropped back into my stomach, along with about a million butterflies.
I didn’t know anyone here; when I ran through the guys, all I said was no, no, no. This was ridiculous. Where was Lennox?
Gaven was getting himself sloshed down at the long table. The vampires were all carrying on among themselves. So at least this was an opportunity to get them out of their antisocial rut. But did I want to know any of them?
“Who were the visitors Ballard was talking about?” I said suddenly. “Who were the visitors Ballard was talking about?” They must’ve been these non-Gathering gatherers––The outsiders who were insiders––The rest of the Magical and Supernatural world! Politics! I told myself.
Lia was thinking about where we should go. But we still had one more day of Wiccan training to attend to, and then––gulp–– I suddenly had no time. This was just wrong, throwing this off on me with just short notice. Honestly...
I didn’t even have my makeup or anything. Who was going to do my hair?
I didn’t want to go to a stupid ball. I wanted to study Magic.
“Halsey. Calm down. You look like you’re hyperventilating,” she said to me.
“Hyper is right,” I told Lia. “I wish my Mark would just form, so I could conjure my way out of this. I better not be thick like Mistress Genevieve. She looks like she has a runway going down her arm. I want swirls.”
“And you’ll get swirls,” said Lia, who looked like she thought I was cracking up.
“If I could do Magic I could just Alcatraz or alakazam... Ali Baba...”
“Abracadabra,” said Lia.
“Yes that. Just do my hair,” I said, indicating a strenuous motion that would result in my hair changing color.
“Would you really want to? You have such lovely hair. It’s like mine. We could be sisters.”
“Purple or magenta or some other derring-do.”
“You punned.”
“Pardon?”
“You punned. Daring do. Is that what you’re worried about, that your hair won’t be right?”
Neophyte / Adept (The Wiccan Diaries, Books 2-3) Page 14