“It’s been really weird actually.”
“But you have been dreaming about me?” he said.
I blew the strand of hair out of my face. He quietened down.
“I’ve been getting them since I left Rome, last month. At first they were just impressions, they didn’t make much sense. But now the dreams are starting to,” I said.
“You mean you get them every night?” He thought about this.
“Something’s after me, Ballard. And I think, whatever it is, is a shapeshifter...” I said.
“You mean like me?”
I nodded.
“But that’s impossible. I know I Gatti. They wouldn’t do that,” he said.
“Of course not. But you said yourself. There are other shape changers in the world besides I Gatti.”
I didn’t tell him, but I had just figured something out. The creature that had smashed through the stained-glass window and defended me from Marek wasn’t a werewolf. It was something else. If I had to guess, a cat. It had black fur, and yellow eyes. But who was it, and why had it tried to save me?
“I haven’t told you the worst part,” I said.
“What?”
“In my dreams, there is this huge clearing, and we are heading toward it––you, me, and someone else.”
“There aren’t very many clearings like that in Rome,” he said.
“The trees are different. They’re not cypresses,” I told him.
“Then where are we?”
“I don’t know. That’s the whole point, Ballard.” I couldn’t keep the stridency out of my voice. “But there’s more. We’re in wolf form.”
“You mean you are?”
Ballard rocked back on his seat. We sat like that for some time, just staring at each other. Nobody spoke.
Finally, Ballard broke the silence. “Have you had these kinds of dreams before?” he said. “It almost sounds like you expect them to happen. To take place. Wait, you can’t, like, see the future, can you?”
“I’ve had other dreams that I expected to come true,” I told him. “Not that they ever have.”
“Whoa,” he said.
I nodded. “It was like I was really fast,” I said, recalling the dream. “We were flying through the trees. We came out and we started howling. I mean, woofing.”
“We need to talk to Gaven about this,” he said. “If you’re having the Calling....”
I looked at him inquiringly.
“It’s what happens to werewolves before their first transformation,” he said, correctly interpreting my look. “Good thing the Council meeting is tonight. Gaven can catch you up on the Family origins. Hey, what if we’re related? Maybe that’s why Risky had me find you. I don’t know. I don’t know,” he said.
I didn’t tell him the bad part. That whatever was chasing me was faster. That Ballard was meant to protect me... And that he kept throwing himself into dangerous situations, in my dreams, in order to protect me....
* * *
We paid up, and left the small café. and got on our motorcycles. And we just cruised through the city for a few hours. We couldn’t go to wherever we were going until everyone got partied out, and went home. Ballard wasn’t joking. It was like Vampire Night for mortals. Everywhere people were going to dinner and the theater, and just strolling around, regardless of the fact that it was way past their bedtimes. They would be making it up at tomorrow’s siesta, no doubt, having stayed up all night.
Finally, the moon was breaking through the clouds, and we were well past Midnight, and the sounds, though fewer, were more raucous––teenagers on their last dregs, whispering excited words to each other, as they lived lifetimes between hours. I among them. It had been a night for revelations.
I realized it wasn’t over. That, in a way, it would never be over. That this night would be mine, and it would be going on for as long as forever, for as long as I still burned for some inward heavenly thing: secrets, and truths, and dreams.
The onset of the Agonies was not unlike this ‘Calling’ Ballard had expressed to me; maybe I was being called. To what I did not know. It didn’t seem important to me just then. The inexpressible pursuit had ended for now. I was with Ballard and we were young and free, and whatever problems we had were in the past.
I decelerated and said, “You can’t be serious.”
The place we had arrived at was the most famous place in Rome. The light turned green and we accelerated through the empty night street to a mammoth colosseum––It was the Colosseum, and it was where the meeting was going to be taking place, the Wolves’ Council I wasn’t entirely sure I was invited to.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Ballard. “They’re expecting you, aren’t they? You’re invited, remember?”
I couldn’t think why. It was a huge lighted edifice I had seen a thousand times before, but never in person. It looked like a giant war god had struck the side of the Colosseum with his cudgel and caused half the oval-shaped exterior to crumble in. A million lights lit up the outer walls, the archways golden-hued, staring out at us like eyeballs. Very watchful and alert eyeballs.
Spiked gates blocked off the entryways the length of the perimeter, preventing would-be visitors entering the Colosseum. It was definitely closed to the public. There was no way we were getting inside, were we?
Chapter 7 – Wolf Tales
I whistled. The gates were high up. I couldn’t see a way in. The Colosseum was like an impenetrable fortress. Ballard put his hands on the smooth stone surface of the Colosseum archway blocking our way inside. “These are Doric,” he said, unnecessarily, indicating the columns.
The façade was made of travertine, which I already knew. It was hard not to imagine Lennox and I having been inside already. I couldn’t understand how werewolves, even a whole pack of them, could contend with a single vampire.
Ballard told me to wait a second. I watched in amazement as he threw himself bodily into the air. He was over the fence in seconds. It happened so fast I couldn’t believe it. One second he was standing there, the next he had vaulted himself over a dozen feet above me.
He landed effortlessly on his feet, avoiding the spikes. “Okay that was amazing,” I said, my mouth hanging open.
He smiled, and began looking for a way inside. I followed along as we circled the length of the building. I saw other motorcycles lined up. I Gatti was definitely here all right. “So how long have you known, Ballard, that you were a w-werewolf?” I said.
He let out a derisive snort. “Lia. She didn’t even tell me,” he said.
“You mean you had to find out on your own?” I wanted to understand.
“It’s complicated,” he said. He found an opening between a gate that had been locked off with a steel chain. “If I...”
Ballard’s muscles tensed. I watched as he pried the gate open slowly. The links in the chain began to stretch slightly. It was just enough for me to squeeze through.
Ballard could bend steel.
The exertion had cost him slightly. I could see beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, as I made my way through. He brushed them away and wiped his hands on his pants. “Shall we?” he said. I followed after him.
The Colosseum was an intricate structure of internal corridors and tunnels that led to the actual pit where gladiators had fought. We were on the ground floor. Below the structure was a hidden clockwork of chambers the Romans had used to stage contests. Ballard and I walked into the heart of the Colosseum, and it opened before us.
It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Ringed around us were multiple levels where spectators had watched everything: from fights to the death, to sea battles, and even lions and tigers Roman huntsmen had imported from faraway lands.
If it could awe, it was staged.
Two thousand years had weathered it until the stones themselves were rounded and a thick layer of moss clung to everything. The starlight overhead shone into the Colosseum, and I heard voices, in the darkness of the pit below.
> Ballard’s family was gathered there, waiting for us. I saw faces that swam out of the dark. Young men and women all in their early to late twenties. I longed to see a transformation. Ballard, as a sixteen-year-old, was quite exceptional.
So far as I knew, no one over thirty was a part of the street gang known as I Gatti. There had to be a reason, didn’t there?
All told, some thirty shapeshifters were present, still in their human forms.
I trailed after Ballard as he hopped gracefully to the floor below. We had to walk across the grassy and wet stone turf, after he helped me down, through a forest of Stonehenge-like structures, all missing their tops. Dripping moss clung to them.
There were chambers that dead-ended, and rounded, curved stone walls. High above was the seating area. The bodies of the werewolves swam into focus in the semidarkness below. Lia was among them.
I could tell her by her long, dark hair, and shining eyes. There seemed to be an unanswered question in them every time we met.
I recognized Paolo and some of the others, most of whom I knew only by sight, never having been properly introduced.
These were the werewolves! The weredogs of Rome! Ballard raised his arms, in greeting, and we were quickly being passed through murmuring, dark bodies, all saying their hellos––the late hour would turn to leaden sky before the night was through.
Torchlight was kindled in a makeshift pit, and we circled around a bowl of it. I tried to feel a kinship to the werewolves––to walk in their skin––but mostly I was in awe. They could be a formidable army, if they chose to be.
Something similar was on Gaven’s mind.
He strode into the fire circle, a tall, imposing figure, and his shadow was thrown a hundred times as large upon the Colosseum itself. Everyone shut up. The murmuring went out like a candle flame. He acknowledged those present and they nodded back. I didn’t know what to do.
“We have a new member tonight,” he said. “His name is Ballard.”
“Welcome Ballard,” said the group, in low, mournful tones.
Ballard didn’t know what to do, either
“And a guest,” said Gaven. “Halsey Rookmaaker.”
Gaven dipped his head to mine, and I returned the gesture. The faces in the gathering briefly turned to me. I caught sight of Lia. She was smiling at me. Gaven went on.
“We have come here tonight to speak about troubling things. A celebration is gathering the likes of which we have never seen before. As you may or may not know––” again he inclined his head to me “––Rome is the seat of werewolf-kind, and has been so for a very long time. Now we are under attack by an enemy we no longer by rights can pursue openly. I am speaking of course of vampires. Members of a society so secret that their true dimensions are unknown to even the wisest of us––werewolves who have spent their entire lives protecting the city, and routing out these blood drinkers...”
There was some angry murmuring around the group.
“To speak nothing of the witches and wizards who are even now flocking in from all four corners of Europe. Their craft-magic is kept secret from us. Our own Lia, and Halsey herself, have been invited to attend, and study with them––if they will. I want to stress to each of you: caution,” said Gaven. “Vampires have their bloodstock––human beings who have been selected for termination. Which is why we have been purging this city, yet back they come again.”
“Parasites,” said a member of I Gatti, a male I didn’t know. There was some arguing back and forth: some seemed to think that we should give them a chance, others that the vampires could not be trusted. Gaven circled the firepit, his shadow doing interesting things, as the flames flickered, and I listened to what they were really on about.
“I know four vampires,” I said. They turned to look at me. “Three of them I would trust absolutely.”
“And the fourth?”
Involuntarily, I felt to my breast; I could feel the outline, there, where Marek’s vampire embrace had caused a light scarring. Two permanent reminders of what happened when I let one get too close.
A faint crescent outline was at my throat, the shape of one of the Three Protectors, if I was to believe what Infester had told me, and that Marek was one of the chosen three, destined to watch my back. But that would have to make me Her, this Super Bitch, as I had heard her referred to in the past, this nebulous female warrior with some kind of destiny, whatever that might be.
Gaven was waiting for a response. I saw him, a proud male warrior, standing there with only good intentions––but he didn’t know... He didn’t know how sweet vampires could be; and how they looked after me, with their heart and soul.
Somewhere Lennox was undergoing a life-altering experience, and I couldn’t see him, I couldn’t see him at all. I didn’t even know if he would be the same Lennox if I ever saw him again. He couldn’t be, could he?
That was the definition of a life-altering experience. Change. These werewolves certainly had changed.
Again, I was confronted with the fact that I would have to choose, somewhere in the future, really between two worlds. Lennox’s––which only he and I could share (. . .and perhaps Dallace and Camille; I wondered if they were okay), and everybody else’s.
It was like they really were mutually exclusive, and I could only choose one. I would have chosen both, but that didn’t seem to be an option. Whatever Gaven said to the contrary, I could tell he disliked them. Even Ballard felt that way. But he was just being stubborn. Before I had been bitten, working side by side with a vampire had not phased Ballard.
I sighed. “He bit me,” I said, “but it wasn’t as bad as it sounds.” They gasped when I said that. “He didn’t know what he was doing. Please,” I said.
This wasn’t entirely true––Marek had wanted me.
I, however, was not prepared to end relationships between Supernaturals, particularly since they were already so strained, and there seemed to be an opportunity to repair old hostilities, as Dallace had called them. Maybe this was what he meant by that, when he told me not to worry about the Lenoir killing me.
Somehow he knew the werewolves would not approve, and that would be enough, somehow, to prevent an entire coven of vampires––I gulped––from coming after me.
I realized that in that conflict, I would stand with the wolves. Did that make me one of them? I had already been having the dreams.
While I was thinking about that, Gaven conceded the floor––or firepit, more exactly––to Lia, who had something to say.
“You all know me, and that family comes first,” she said, tossing her hair. She was holding the letter from the Lenoir in her hand. “I have heard it said that the best policy is to get to know your enemies. This Gathering gives us the opportunity to do just THAT.” She dipped the letter into the fire, and it started to burn. The others whooped. I watched as the wax seal lost its shape and dripped like running blood. She held it in her long fingers, her crimson nails the color of her racing bike. “They’re supposed to come send a Finding-feeling, a touchy-feely, anyway something equally grabby-sounding––some Party––to come test Halls and me,” she said. In the firelight her smile was pure wicked incarnate. “And I say amen to that.”
The rebel werewolves threw their heads back and howled like a pack of animals; it made me laugh.
Lia was serious, but we had a moment, there in the fire. She and I were family, members of a pack, and I knew we had each other’s backs. It was all she had to say. She winked at me and relinquished the floor.
Gaven was back looking at all of them. “So,” he said. You didn’t attack this and make it out alive. That was the gist. They all nodded at each other.
Gaven was concerned about one thing:
What the Lenoir’s reaction would be when they learned of Rome’s policy. That werewolves had hunted and killed vampires before––and would continue to do so, once this little get-together was over with.
“These are our killing fields,” he said. “We will not yield a s
ingle inch to these madames et monsieurs. They have their city.” The others whooped and yelled. It was like a battle cry.
“I was hoping you would speak to this,” he said, pointing to me, and relinquishing the firelight.
I stepped forward into the pit––a gladiator in my own right. Their eyes danced like wild things.
“It’s true. The vampires are coming,” I said. “And I would certainly be intimidated by you, if I were all of them. However, this is a civil gathering. At least that’s what they say. So let us use the caution Gaven spoke of.”
They nodded, listening.
“I can tell you one thing. These vampires have their own mysterious rules. I don’t pretend to know them. They consider themselves the only vampires. In that respect, there has only ever been one true vampire in Rome. Lennoxlove Lenoir.”
They all giggled.
Behold my icy stare.
“Right now this city is as empty of Immortals as you have made it,” I said. “The Lenoir will not fault you for that. In fact, you will have their appreciation. They consider themselves of superior blood type, you see. Just don’t kill one of them.”
I did not tell them about the Agonies––that the vampires purged their numbers.
“Thank you,” said Gaven.
“As for Magic, Lia and I will have to find out,” I said. I joined the other bodies.
Gaven stepped into the firepit and it was like he transformed. Everything about him changed. From his tall and muscular form, to the way he held himself, and even his eyes; his hands were like claws, as he strode in front of the firing flames. Even his shadow took on something of the wolf. The fire flickered, and I could see his eyes, like two shards of onyx. Something had possession of him.
“Let me tell you Alec’s story,” he said. “He was the first Werewolf. His name means Protector of Men. He was born in Greece. No history records his deeds.”
Gaven threw his head back. The night itself stooped to listen.
“Moonlight healed him. He could run for days. The gods themselves attended upon his birth. So the wise women said. They spoke of him as they did their herbs: useful and trusty things, they could bend to their wills.
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