“Alec was given a choice. To live forever. Or do great things. He chose the latter.
“A lifetime unbounded by death? Who wouldn’t choose that?
“No; Alec would win renown for himself, and thereby be immortal. But first, he had to pass three tests.
“A terrible beast was rampaging through the countryside. ‘Kill it, Alec,’ they said to him.
“He nodded. ‘I will,’ he said. Alec had gifts. A strong body, and a well-tempered mind, but he was no wolf. He was just a man, and the nameless thing which hunted could kill and eat men. No one was safe. No one could stop it.
“It terrorized small coastal villages. Then would disappear. The townsfolk soon realized it must take up somewhere, either in a forest or a cave. It was to this place Alec would go, and kill it where it slept.
“‘Take an army, Alec. Let us dress you in the finest armor.’
“‘Nay. I go alone, with only those things Nature and the gods themselves endow me with.’ He proceeded to bend a scrap of iron with his bare hands. ‘I am strong enough.’
“They all agreed that he was a most impressive young hothead.
“‘But he will come to no good,’ said one older crone. She heard things. The locals said she had The Ear.
“Alec mocked her and he did his Dance of Mockery. The others took it up, and so chased the old woman from the village. All thought it was a good riddance: the old crone gone and Alec off to fight the beast.
“Alec bid them farewell and undertook the destruction of the beast. There was no one whose paws it could not sully. Alec would remove the threat, and stop the gruesome murdering of the villagers.
“On the first day, he called down a crow. ‘Show me the way, crow.’
“‘No,’ cawed the Crow.
“‘You see everything, crow. Surely you have seen this thing hunting at night. It cannot hide from you.’
“The crow cawed. ‘What’s in it for me?’ he crowed.
“‘You get to live.’ Alec grabbed the crow with incredible reflexes.
“‘He went thataway,’ cawed the Crow, before he flew off.
“‘I will shoot you from the air, if you’re lying to me,’ said Alec. He ran over the countryside. For days and days he ran. And the crow flew with him. Finally he stopped.
“ He waived the crow down. ‘Crow, I have run for days and days. You said thataway, and thataway I have come. There is no beast.’
“‘True, true,’ cawed the Crow.
“‘You tricked me, Crow. If I should meet the strange nightmare hunting my people, I shall be too tired to fight it. I need energy. To eat you.’ He grabbed the crow with his amazing reflexes. ‘Energy you can give me, after you tell me where I am, and how far it is to this evil thing’s lair.’
“The crow said, ‘I already have told you. Don’t betray our covenant simply because you have no faith.’ He cawed.
“Alec broke the bird’s neck. That night he ate crow. And that is where that expression comes from,” said Gaven.
“The crow’s feathers were left to the Wind to take up; it did, and they fluttered away. As evening passed into morning, Alec decided to continue his journey. He had come to the evil thing’s lair. The crow had led him straight.
“He thanked it now, and journeyed into the dark cave.
“‘I am Alec. I have come to kill you,’ he said to the monster that was waiting for him there.
“The shapeless thing opened its maw. ‘I eat men. I will eat you too,’ it said.
“Alec didn’t think so.
“He had thought long and hard about his immortality. If it was to be the kind that lasted, no first challenger could stop him. Alec would kill the beast, and so gain his fame.
“‘I have three tests, and you are merely the first,’ he said. ‘They are guaranteed me.’
“‘Yes, they are,’ said the beast, acknowledging Alec’s logic.
“‘Therefore, it has already been decided that I shall kill you. Otherwise, how would I ever get to the other two tests?’
“‘If that is so,’ said the beast, ‘I should be able to kill you. For, if you are immortal, and have other places to be, I can do anything I want to you, even kill you, and you will not die. For you are Alec. Immortal.’
“Alec thought about this. It was a way of cheating death, of cheating the gods, who said he could be one or the other––either immortal or renowned––but not both.
“‘How do we do this?’ he said, with his eyes on achieving the unprecedented.
“‘You jump into my mouth.’
“‘Then?’
“‘I eat you. Just have faith,’ said the beast. It was almost exactly the same thing the crow had said.
“Alec was in a hurry to disprove the crow’s slight, to prove that he could have faith, and be famous, and be immortal. All three. He ran and leapt into the giant mouth of the beast, whose jaw snapped shut, and Alec was met by the crow.
“‘You killed me,’ said the Crow. ‘I was your friend and you took my life.’
“‘Silence, Crow.’ Alec waited for whatever was going to happen to him. Any second now.
“‘I see you have learned faith,’ said the Crow. ‘You really believe what that animal said will happen. That you will somehow come back?’
“Alec smiled. It would just be a second. He imagined what he would do, when he got back, when the villagers all met him, and he told them the good news, that he had defeated the beast––he would take its pelt back to them, to show them.
“The crow cawed; it sounded an awful lot as though Crow were laughing at Alec.
“Alec became impatient. ‘Why isn’t it happening?’ he said.
“‘Because you are dead. And there is no coming back from death.’
“‘No fair,’ Alec said. ‘That beast tricked me.’
“Crow cawed.
“‘I want another turn.’
“‘I do know someone who can help you. She was eaten by the beast, too. I think you know her,’ said the Crow.
“Alec looked and the old crone whom he had chased out of the village with his Dance of Mockery had appeared.
“‘Crone, my life was taken from me. Give me it back.’
“‘Very well,’ said the old crone. ‘But I will teach you a lesson. Your name means Protector of Men,’ she said, ‘but all you ever did was glorify yourself. I will send you back as the werewolf itself. Maybe then it will stop killing people.’
“But Alec said, ‘I can’t be a beast. I’m a man. If I go back to the village, they will kill me.’
“Old crone laughed. ‘You will be shunned as I was shunned, when you did your Dance of Mockery. Therefore, you will wander far and wide. A vagrant. And if any man meets you, he will try and kill you as you did Old Crow.’
“‘Caw!’ said the Crow.
“Alec said, ‘My three tests...’
“‘You already had them,’ said Crone. ‘A legacy of cruelty to me, of faithlessness to old Crow, and stupidity, walking into that beast’s mouth. But I will give you another shot, this time at redemption. If you perchance can find a home and do good, I will allow you to transform back into a man. But you will always have the other half. Maybe you can earn your name.
“‘However, you must never again kill the beast of the field. For you and it are family, you see, and as you come back, so will it.’”
Gaven stopped speaking, but the others thought about that.
“But what happened to Alec? Are you saying he was turned by witchcraft?”
Gaven looked for who had spoken; a young warrior not much older than we were.
“Alec left his gift to us,” he said. “We choose what we make of it. Protect Rome. Protect Lia and Halsey, and yourselves. But above all, keep the faith. It’s almost morning. Tomorrow we meet the Beast.”
Chapter 8 – Nightmares
That night I had a terrible dream. The beast was after me again. It’s mouth gleamed with razor-sharp teeth. I turned to face it. But instead of trying to eat me, i
t spoke.
“You belong with us,” it said.
I felt them––like there was more than one, and I was to join their rank. A hand reached out to me.
I twisted out of it, and fell onto the floor.
My eyes popped open. Suddenly, it all came flooding back; that I was still myself, and they couldn’t get to me, at least not yet, anyway. I longed for Lennox’s return.
I needed the calming serenity of his strong voice. What had Infester said? That we had a Power... a Power of Sight? I wondered what he meant by that. Maybe I could see Lennox? Maybe we could communicate with each other?
How?
I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to speak to someone about Magic, but as my eyes adjusted to the light filtering into my bedroom, I realized that that was not possible, that I was all alone, that there was no one else I could confide in, there was no one who could guide me, or help me out. I had never missed my parents more than in this moment.
Lia.
She had received a letter as well. I couldn’t bother her with this; she had her own problems. Tomorrow was the Gathering....
I ran a warm bath, and while that was happening, sent off a quick email to Ballard.
(“Can you come see me tonight?” I asked. “I need to know what we’re doing for tomorrow, and there’s some stuff I want to speak to you about,” I wrote.)
Ballard was probably still asleep. As I listened to the sounds outside, everything seemed more subdued. Tourist season was over. It was a mild seventy-two degrees, and we were headed into a peaceful winter, I hoped. Rome slept.
I finished bathing and got out of my clawfooted tub and tracked footprints throughout the house; they fascinated me as I put on my clothing.
I had attended my first Wolves’ Council. Me.
How many people knew about them? Did the people who ran the restaurant who were so friendly to Ballard and I? Did the people I saw wave to him as we drove our motorcycles through Trastevere? They would wave out of windows while they did their laundry.
Ballard seemed to take it for granted. He was, after all, friendly in the extreme and fun to be with. Maybe everyone loved Ballard. That made perfect sense.
Then again...
Maybe they knew what he was, what he was turning in to. Maybe it was, like, this massive conspiracy, and I thought, Had they been members of I Gatti?
True, they were, like, a hundred years old, a lot of them, but maybe they had heard quote-unquote ‘The Calling’, back in the day. It made a lot of sense, Rome being handed down, generation to generation. Protectors...
I browsed through a slew of websites, but whatever was out there couldn’t be culled from the Interwebs. Instead, I abandoned my search for witchcraft and werewolves, and went out, to get a drink from the vending machine.
I bumped into What’s-Her-Face. She ripped the tab off her soda.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I said. “Andando. I won’t be back for a while. I don’t know for how long. If you hear strange noises coming from my room, run, it’s most likely an intruder. Nice talking to you.”
I was just about to shut my door, when she spoke. “This city is full of strange things,” she said, her voice rising in that weird way she had, drawing me back. “Something to consider when you take off.”
“What do you know about it?” I said. I was so unnerved by her statement, it was a second before I realized she had spoken to me like a real person––and in English.
“They’re here. Can’t you feel them?” she said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
Her eyes got big, and spooky. “We’re not alone. Take care, Halsey Rookmaaker.”
I slammed the door; my breathing picked up, and I felt the chills run down my spine. Ballard knocked on the door five seconds later. I opened it, not knowing what to expect, and he walked in with a strange look on his face.
“I know what you mean,” he said. “That chick is weird.”
“You felt it too?” I said. “She gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Maybe you should move. I don’t even know how you afford a place like this.”
I explained to him that I had some money. A small sum of money bequeathed to me by my mom and dad. I actually had lots.
“Still, this place must cost a fortune,” he said. “You’re right in the thick of it.”
Truer words were never spoken. But when I thought about it, Ballard was right. My room was modestly proportioned, but it was right over one of the most expensive pieces of real estate in the world. It would be like living on Fifth Avenue or Rodeo Drive.
Surely the small sum of money I dished out each month wasn’t enough for such accommodations. I shook it off. Ballard had brought breakfast. He went out to the balcony, to take a look around, and unwrapped a sausage-and-egg McMuffin, which he ate with relish, there on the balcony, before offering me one, and coming inside.
He smiled at me as we ate our meal. “That was some get-together last night,” I said.
“Tell me about it. Who knew Gaven was such a mystic?” he said.
“So he’s never spoken to you about where you guys come from?” I asked.
Ballard made a noncommittal sound. “Not really,” he said. “It’s all need-to-know. I guess I don’t yet.”
“It sounds like he’s really busy, though, getting this place together, wherever it is that we’re going to meet; and you just started changing... Maybe there’s, like, an initiation or something, for all new werewolves...”
“I don’t know,” said Ballard, “we’ll see.”
“So what’s the deal anyway? Are you, like, marked for life, or something? I haven’t really seen any other people older than thirty, in I Gatti. What happens to werewolves when they get too old?”
“I’ve thought about it,” said Ballard. “I think you kind of grow out of it, whatever that means. Like I said, there’s a bunch more to find out. Remember that bike race we had, where I crashed, and almost got killed?”
How could I forget? Ballard had slammed into a wall head first going who knows how fast.
“I didn’t know it at the time, but it’s a race for who gets to be the Head of the Pack,” he said.
“Isn’t that Gaven’s job?” I asked.
“So long as he keeps winning,” said Ballard, “but he’s getting older. He and Lia keep talking about settling down––so I guess that means he can’t be a werewolf forever.”
“How old’s Lia, anyway?” I asked.
“She’s twenty-four.”
“So she can’t keep doing this much longer, either.” I said.
“Apparently not. When I ask her about mom and dad––they’re living in Greece you know––she tells me to keep my mouth shut. One of the reasons she didn’t tell me what I Gatti was up to until I started showing. She doesn’t want me blabbing to them about it. It’s like some big secret.”
“What about your two older brothers? What are their names again?”
“One is called Sándor, and the other is Septimus,” said Ballard. “They’re really weird. So far as I know, they haven’t shown. They’re not werewolves.”
“Oh,” I said.
He pointed to the laptop. “So what have you been finding out? Anything special? What’s going on?”
This was what I missed, the two of us together, sleuthing. I typed an address into the URL. “Check this out,” I said. A website popped up.
Roman numerals flashed across the screen as the web page loaded: I... II... III... all the way up to the number nine.
Ballard said, “Will you look at that?”
“I thought you would appreciate it,” I said.
Symbols fell like snowflakes. There were full moons and crescents, and also strange runic-shaped ones we had never seen before; not to mention the Wiccan iconography Ballard and I were proficient in having interpreted it over the summer.
They fluttered around a large symbol I had seen before. A giant circle with slash marks through it.
/> I drew it on a piece of paper, and filled it in by hand.
All 8 of the Wiccan Virtues. “It was said that every magical person possessed one. Their birthright,” I said. “Like a star sign, almost. It defined who you were to become.”
“Which one are you?” he asked.
“You remember when I said I didn’t know anything? I literally do not,” I said. “But I have reason to suspect I might be this one here––” I tapped the wedge. “Malleability,” I said. “I think it means I have transformative properties. Or something. I’m not sure.”
“Like that dream you had, where you thought you might be one of us, a werewolf?”
I nodded. “That’s right, Ballard.”
“What’s Lia? Is she Discretion? I bet she’s Discretion,” said Ballard. “Real party pooper.”
“Whatever she is, I don’t think she will know until she crafts,” I said.
“I get it. It’s like one of those things you have to figure out for yourself,” said Ballard. “Hey, click on it! Go on! Check it out!”
I moused over the eight-sided wheel. Roman numerals appeared again. Ballard and I waited, but the screen refused to change. Nothing happened, even when I clicked on it.
“What does it mean, anyway?” he asked. “What’s the website trying to tell you?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “but do you remember the Wiccan symbols last summer? They were in a specific order.”
I quickly drew them out.
Ballard had not had the benefit of Infester’s guidance. No one knew the story of the Wiccan witch, except for me.
I didn’t see any reason not to include him. After all, if the story was true––if the symbols did, in fact, predict the future, and the coming of this witch––then Ballard was as much a part of the story as me. He was caught up in it, too! I drew them out.
“Vampire,” I said.
“The Three Protectors.”
“A fourth one. He has no name.”
“A coven of vampires. Four.”
“And that one?” said Ballard.
“It’s the symbol for war,” I said. “All told they tell the story of a Wiccan deity, with unspecified powers.”
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