Neophyte

by T. D. McMichael

  Where Lennox’s eyes were lavender, Dallace’s were like emerald planets. I could see the clouds roll in and thunder. His mind opened up and delivered a truly astonishing message: you truly have nothing to fear.

  I grasped at it hungrily.

  “You must be Halsey,” he said. I felt myself being sucked into his eyes. “This is my wife, Camille,” said Dallace. He helped me from the landing; Lennox looked on, with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  “Halsey Rookmaaker––you have an exciting name,” said Camille. “It’s so full of odd things.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. “It’s just what they gave me,” I said.

  “Oh, they gave you more than that.”

  She looked me over, if somewhat boldly. She and Lennox exchanged no pleasantries. But Dallace hugged him like a brother. “Welcome home,” he said.

  Lennox took my hand. “We need to talk,” he said to Dallace. Somewhere in the mix, Dallace had his arm around Lennox, and they were whispering ahead.

  Dallace’s garments were simple; on him, exceedingly daring. I could not get over his age, and that he looked like he had seen so much. I reminded myself that he probably had. Just how old was he, anyway?

  It was Camille I was with, and she was like fire. I heard the gates snap shut behind us. The outside sounds all went away; only a pleasant gurgling, I figured was thanks to the Eden they had constructed for themselves behind closed walls.

  Luxuriant large leaves, and the fingers of supple trees, blocked the sky. There were footpaths in the garden, large round stones with grass growing wildly between them. Lennox and Dallace walked ahead. They would turn, and by a trick of the path, disappear, leaving Camille and I to become acquainted. I was suddenly a jumble of awkward feelings.

  “It’s late, and you are in a garden full of vampires,” she said.

  Tell me about it. I could feel my heart beat.

  “I know,” I said. “Believe me.”

  Her long hair was straight and sleek, like a curtain of Midnight, and just a swirl, or band, of red, accentuating it. Two round moist eyes led to a mind that was almost child-like. “I will show you to your room,” she said. “For sleep is a boon. Come along.”

  I followed; the last thing I heard was Lennox’s voice raised in agitation. “Forget them,” said Camille. Her voice was wicked and singsong and had little bells in it. “Come along with me.”

  What else could I do? It was exceedingly late. Everything had a quasi-lucid glow. I felt myself moving, without really knowing how I got there. First up one set of stairs, then another, her voice telling me to follow her. “Your room,” she said.

  I fell into an enchanted slumber. All night long I heard the whispering moths’ voices. They were in the garden; I was not. When I awoke, it was morning. It broke into my lighted room, from a balcony. I had a serious case of déjà vu. For a second, I thought I was back in the Eternal City. The house was quiet. It was high up. I could see out over Venice from my bed covers.

  It was a moment before I realized that I had not had any dreams. No snuffling, or dark eyes. Nothing. Only peaceful, unperturbed sleep.

  My diary was on a small nightstand, watching over me. So far as I knew it had not been touched. If I was going to be so paranoid about it, I should just stop keeping the diary. Secrets are better left un-blabbed.

  My guard had been up. Some of it fell away. But then I heard them.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt her. That includes all of you. I’m serious.” Lennox’s voice.

  “What do you take us for? Monsters?”

  There was some general laughter.

  “She is not one of us. It’s dangerous,” said Camille.

  “He needs a lady in his life, even one so fragile,” said Dallace. I took the opportunity to mentally memorize both of their voices. The unreality of last night was, by now, gone. I was in a house full of vampires, and they were arguing, about me. Why?

  “But that’s the thing, is she?” said Camille. “In case you missed it, Lennoxlove, this gathering is taking place. It’s time you came to certain inexorable truths. Among them that you cannot protect her forever and always. At some point, she will be indoctrinated into the larger world.”

  “He knows that, Camille. And I want you two to stop arguing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Halsey Rookmaaker is awake. And she is listening to every word we say.”

  I felt the fluids in my heart gurgle through my veins. They had heard me. How? I didn’t even move. Lennox explained. I came down sometime after, and entered the garden. Dallace and Camille had gone for a stroll.

  “They like to walk in the garden,” said Lennox. “It’s bigger than it looks.”

  That still didn’t explain how they had known I was awake.

  “For someone magical, you sure find it difficult to accept the supernatural,” he said.

  I gave him that. “I never said I was perfect,” I said.

  “Just the one,” he said, getting that far-off look again. Was he in pain? Did it have something to do with the Agonies?

  “Don’t you see that I crave knowledge, and, well, everything?” I said, trying to get him to see reason, and open up to me.

  “I fear,” said Lennox, “that I will know nothing about you, and you will know everything there is to know about me.”

  “What is there to tell?” I said. I would let him decide if I meant him or me, by that. Something sparkled. I saw a tray of lemonade. There was only one glass. It was like crystal. There were also sandwiches; bits of cucumber poked from them.

  “It is for you,” he said.

  I took one and ate it. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. “Mmm. Nom nom. I’m waiting,” I said. He poured the lemonade.

  “You truly are incorrigible,” he said.

  “So my hat it pointed, and your teeth are. So what? Witches are in covens the same as vampires. You’ve been at this longer. I told you. I know the sum of squat. I want more. I’ll take answers first.”

  “And after that?” he said.

  “I don’t know. We’ll see,” I said.

  “Fair enough. Vampires’ senses are heightened: this means hearing and sight. Touch and taste, however, are relative to the raw material. Some blood is better than others,” he said, when he saw the question forming on my lips. “Just as some vampires’ connoisseurship––well, let us say, they think they know what is for the best.”

  “Paris. The Lenoir, you mean.”

  “They rule the Immortals. But their reach is greater, more powerful. And it is growing. But enough of that. You wanted to know how––” he motioned to the garden; its reach extended to Lennox. I suddenly became aware that I was sitting in light; he was not.

  “Dallace––and I, and Camille––but Dallace––he must’ve been a wallflower, when he was a mortal. I would have loved to have known him, then. What is the more romantic version? That he heard the rhythms of your heart, or that he was listening to them in the first place? He pays attention, Dallace. Dots the i’s, crosses the t’s.”

  “So when you said he was perceptive...”

  “It isn’t really a Power, it’s just him; which is one of the reasons why we’re here...”

  “But why are we here?” I asked. “Not that I want to leave; just the opposite, in fact. I would love to explore. To see Venice.”

  “So you shall. If things hold.” He looked at me. “I am afraid that I must go,” he said.

  “What? Now?” I said.

  “Soon. Days. I needed to know that you would be in good hands. Camille and Dallace will pro–– They’ll make sure nothing happens to you... while I am away.”

  The visions. My dreams. Had Lennox just admitted that he knew something was after me? Was that why he was standing out on that finger of rock? And was he still, in a sense, on duty? Was Lennox... protecting me?

  “I thought you didn’t need to do that anymore. I thought nothing was after me,” I said. “Well, besides Marek. But he’s not
coming back again, is he?”

  “Would you want him to?” he asked.

  Lennox produced an envelope. It was made of thick cream parchment, and had a wax seal. “It’s unopened,” I noticed aloud.

  “It’s addressed to you,” he said.

  Dallace and Camille returned. They had been up all night––all of them. I had been left out. “Good morning, Halsey Rookmaaker,” said Dallace. Camille smiled at me; it was only polite.

  Chapter 3 – Lost Cause

  Dear Diary,

  Do I retreat within myself? And make of things more than they are? Don’t answer that.

  I have just spent the day with all of them; we didn’t go anywhere. I got the impression that they’re all kind of aimless. I don’t mean that in a bad way. Even Lennox is prone to staring at walls.

  I suspect it has something to do with having a lot of time. Anyway, they’re out now. They take shifts guarding me. Camille is off hunting. The other two are wandering around somewhere downstairs.

  I spent some more time alone with Camille today. She told me about Hunters.

  “Vampire Hunters,” she said; somewhere in Prague or something. If they’re not here, now, I don’t really think about them. It came out during a conversation about something or other. “The young are vulnerable to hunters,” she said. “Another reason we’re so communal. It’s for protection.” She stared at me with her big eyes.

  I think I’m getting paranoid. Nobody’s telling me anything. Scratch that. Just that I’m safe and not to worry. But that’s not really true, is it? I’m not really safe. If I have three vampire protectors, but things can kill vampires...

  Do my protectors need protecting?

  Lennox is always whispering, and when I ask him about it, he just smiles, and says not to worry.

  I got a letter today. There were actually four of them that were delivered. And that’s another thing, it must’ve been by hand, because there’s no stamp; probably while I was sleeping. An invitation, Diary, to something called a Gathering, or the Gathering, I’m not sure.

  I won’t transcribe it; it just said I was summoned. ‘You are hereby summoned.’ Which struck me as odd. There’s a difference between a summons and an invite. A summons is a command, which means that I was born into something, or that I signed up.

  I don’t recall having done either.

  It was sent by the Lenoir.

  * * *

  I paused to think about that.

  * * *

  The Lenoir. I have heard it pronounced both ways. Like the American jaguar, and the very French Len-wa. I favor the latter. They are, after all, from Paris.

  Vampires have a saying. That all vampires are from Paris. It is the simultaneous audacity, and clannishness of the Paris Coven, that I hate. Lennox is of course encouraging me not to think of them in those terms. But I choose how and what I think, and the process by which I do it.

  I feel claustrophobic, Diary. I miss Rome. But if this summons is truly a command, I won’t be missing it much longer. The Gathering takes place in Rome; or on the outskirts, at any rate. There are a series of tunnels. I guess I’ll see it when I see it.

  It sounds like Jubilee. The Romans have this thing, Jubilee, where every twenty-five years they get together and celebrate, I would guess to punctuate generational milestones, almost. More significant than the Olympics, or any other event that takes place every four years. This takes place every twenty-five.

  Well, so does the Gathering.

  It said that I would be ‘tested’, the summons.... Diary––I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it. We’re going out. They’re calling me.

  * * *

  I put my book away; it was black-bound and could hold my angst. In Venice, there is the idea of the città salotto. The city as salon. As gathering place. Innumerable small islands, in a sense, interconnected. With all the doors thrown wide open. Inviting waterside cafés... etc., etc.

  They were waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. Camille wore an embroidered black dress, with a silver choker; her eyes peeked through two curtains of shiny dark hair––that same lick of red, that was the color of blood.

  She smiled at me, genuinely this time.

  Dallace marveled at my appearance. “I didn’t know your size,” he said. He and Camille had supplied me with a small wardrobe, while I was here.

  I had on a pretty silk dress and heels. Lennox took my hand. “Shall we?” he said.

  I nodded, anxious to see the city. We were going out!

  I had never experienced anything like it; but then again, what other city in the world was quite like this one? We left the dark chambers and entered the Grand Canal, Venice’s chief waterway. Where we were headed was Riva del Vin––a kind of Main Street.

  Camille and I sat in the back of the boat together, the Bellezza Immortale, Dallace throttled along slowly; we were in traffic on the waterway, it was amazing.

  Water taxis went to and fro; there were suitcase boats, loaded with luggage. The Canal is only about two-and-a-half miles long. The water lapped mildly around us.

  And of course there were the gondolas. Tall Italian men stood in them and rowed passengers along. Everything felt safe. It was a cool September night, and the light on the water danced in my eyes. I inhaled the smells––the water, the food. Lennox had neglected to mention vampire smelling. They must, mustn’t they? I had remembered him sniffing my hair.

  Camille took my hand and held it with both of hers. I looked but she was staring off in her own little world. My stomach rumbled.

  “How do you like the city?” she asked, smiling, and turning her bulbous blue eyes, to look into my own. She didn’t often blink. I had the impression that she didn’t need to.

  “It’s wonderful. But I would be afraid of getting lost here,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  I thought a moment. “Well... it’s self-sufficient; it’s been around forever, and it certainly doesn’t need me. Venice is almost a trap.”

  The bells in her voice chimed. “Exactly how I feel,” she said. “You know it’s disappearing, don’t you? Every year it gets closer and closer.”

  So I had heard.

  “Venice is like Atlantis,” she said. “One day it will be a myth. People will be sure that it never existed. The earth is swallowing it up. Wonderful what mortals will do, isn’t it? They’re so afraid to let things die, they will try and save a lost cause. This is the point. That this world, our world, is stuck in the past, nothing can prevent its slow decay. One day, it will cease to exist, as will we.”

  I think I said something about drinking blood and not to talk that way anymore.

  “You are young. You still have your passion,” she said. “I will say no more.”

  “But I want you to go on. I want to know more, particularly about your past,” I said. “Who made you? And how long have you been?”

  Her liquid emotionless eyes cared for nothing. I could see her death, written dismissively in them.

  “Such secrets are not for mortals. I only wish to offer a warning. Be not too hasty to enter our world. For I am death, I am the dead.”

  “I don’t care,” I said. “There’s nothing for me here, or anywhere––except Lennox.”

  “But you said it yourself. This place, Halsey Rookmaaker, us, we are a dead end; we are nothing, we had our time; while you, you are just starting. Your life is like a wheeling star, spinning recklessly; it could shoot,” said Camille.

  “The only question is why you are in such a hurry to give it all up. To let life go,” I said.

  “But I am not alive,” she said.

  I wanted to shake her. The boat was pulling into the dock. “All I’m saying,” she said, “is that the trajectory of your life is in your own hands. Right now you could be anything. But that window won’t stay open forever. Oh! Look! I just love water lillies.”

  I went to dinner with Lennox at a small café, sniffing at the scents of rosemary and juniper, with the Rial
to Bridge in the background. He ordered the wine and whatnot. I had a nice dish of caper berries and marinated white anchovies, he assured me was delicious. How would he know?

  His whatnot disappeared mysteriously, as I dug into the main course. Sarde in Saor. It sounded worse than it was. Fried sardines.

  I was somewhat irked with the conversation I had had. Something of it played in my face.

  “What is it?” he said, being all charming and stuff. Dallace and Camille had gone window shopping. They were like two old lovers surprised by everything. It gave me something to consider, actually.

  I deigned to answer. “Vampires being all self-analytical and pseudo-deep: I get it you live forever boohoo.”

  “What?” He laughed.

  I told him about Camille.

  “She’s like that,” he said.

  I rolled a marinated pine nut in my mouth. “If you want to be with me, be with me. Come on, Lennox, love. We spend half our time not talking to one another.”

  He blushed without blushing.

  “See? If you can hear when I wake, I can at least hear when the three of you whisper. I think I listened to your conversation all night. I had funny dreams. Not the bad ones,” I said. “Just sounds, shapes, mostly. And Camille. She called you Lennox, love.”

  “Lennoxlove. One word. And stop that.”

  I stared at him. And ate another fish. “This isn’t good,” I said. “The fish is excellent. But my not knowing your name.” I dropped my fork. “We’re supposed to be going out... dating... I don’t even know your name. It’s not good, Lennox, love.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “But, Lennoxlove...”

  “I didn’t bring you here to fight,” he said.

  “No. Just to ditch me,” I said. The wine was excellent, the food was excellent. Everything was excellent, just not us.

  “No offense to your family––they’re actually quite nice, and under different circumstances, I would love to get to know them,” I said. “All right, Camille’s a little weird, and Dallace has been alone too long, but when you go, I go. We can either go together, and face whatever’s coming for us––you with the Agonies, and me whatever––although, if you ask me, what you’re going through sounds like it doesn’t exist––I’m not undervaluing it. I just don’t understand why you would let something else control you. You are who you wish to be, which has always been my personal philosophy, come what may. It sounds like a load of hokum, is all. But if I’m not invited, sobeit, you’re going to have to come find me in Rome––’cause that’s my home. Otherwise, we need to just break up.”