Neophyte

by T. D. McMichael

  He was focusing on my orchid as he said so; it hadn’t pained me in a while, my orchid.

  His “scars” were a collection of silver bite marks at his throat and both of his wrists.

  “He’s still out there, my Maker. I’ll know it when I find him,” he said. “We’ll be connected.”

  I hadn’t realized it before, but Lennox and I were on the same kind of quest. We were both searching for our parents––and our pasts. What was it, I wondered, about needing to know where you came from?

  I thought of Lennox traveling the world, searching for his sire. It seemed lonely. Perhaps.... Only, I didn’t say so.... Maybe he should let it go...?

  Would I? Could I, now that I was on the trail of my parents? Was this what they would have wanted for me, to be in Prague with a vampire?

  “You know, at some point the doors stop opening for you,” said Lennox, “and then you have to start opening them for yourself.”

  The problem was, I didn’t know where to begin. I put my hood up, concentrating hard. Were the non-magicals aware of the thing roaming their forest?

  I thought of Ballard laid up, and Lia and Gaven out of commission––

  Rome needed Lennox––and, okay, me, too––which was another reason for scolding myself for neglecting my studies.

  But there was something else, at work: It just seemed right that a vampire, witch and werewolf should get along... It sent a message.... That we were strong, united... whatever... that Lennox, Ballard and I could lead the way.

  Without meaning to, I put my arm through his, when something ahead of us snapped.

  I was still so full of the aether, it made my pulse pound. Who was out there? I hadn’t forgotten the Dark Order. Perhaps this tungleskin was one of them.

  I could feel Lennox tense beside me. I shot the Light ahead of me, whereupon it flew into the trees like a meteor. “Ow!” said a familiar voice. “Halsey? What did you do that for?” said Manon, stumbling out of the trees.

  She stepped from behind a spruce tree, clutching at her head, dressed in a traveling cloak, her midnight-black tresses tumbling down her backside. “And why are you with a vampire?” she asked me, incredulously.

  I made the introductions:

  “Lennox, Manon, Manon, Lennox. She’s a witch,” I said to Lennox.

  “I’m only Fledged. The Magister Equitum sent me to find you. It’s not safe to be in Prague at THIS TIME. Remembr,” she said. She formed her Wiccan W and shot it at me; I flinched, involuntarily. What was it with people thinking they could just do magic on me, whenever they felt like it?

  “The Dark Order is mobilizing,” said Manon. “They’ll get you, if they can. The moon is in the Fourth House.”

  “So?”

  “So,” said Manon. The spell had taken over and I suddenly found myself in her dreams––in her memories...

  I didn’t know where I was. Marsh, bog, or fen. There was a house, a manor, in the distance. I came to the edge of it, and there, in the background, I saw them.

  “I’m not an Eclectic,” said Manon. “I used to belong––to have a House––until they came. This is what happened to my Family. And why I joined the benandanti.”

  I didn’t know what I expected. The Lenoir?

  But these weren’t vampires. They weren’t even humans. They were Grigori. How long ago had it been since her Family had been attacked?

  “They came and destroyed my House, and I-I’ve wandered ever since,” said Manon.

  It was ringed in fire, the House. Wizards and witches appeared, coughing, from the smoke, brandishing their marks, and were struck down by the Grigori, who tore at their flesh. This rage was filling inside of me. Not for myself, but for Manon. “I was number twelve,” she said, “until they were destroyed. I came home, and then I hid––I was too scared to fight...”

  I watched as the Grigori blocked the wizards’ spells. They looked like Rayven, only worse; huge and intimidating with massive claws––their upper torsos malformed and twisted, packed with muscles. Their skulls wolfish, to fit all their teeth.

  Had my parents misbehaved? Was that why they were destroyed? Had these things been sent to kill them? Somehow I needed to learn everything I could about the Dark Order and the Master House; but that would mean Prague, and the Grigori––

  She cut off the image playing in my head––yanking it from me––the way Manon’s whole life had been taken from her.

  “The Grigori were wiped out, slaughtered, but they’re back now,” she said. “They’re back. And nobody cares, Halsey. My House was destroyed, and no investigation was ever begun––I think the Master House covered it up. The Grigori were never good about thinking for themselves. Cruel and inhuman, almost their only pleasure derives from killing. It would have taken somebody to unite them. Somebody sent them to my House. Someone powerful.”

  Lenoir... It had to have been... Only, why? What did he want? They didn’t just attack of their own accord, did they?

  Lennox cut in. “It wasn’t us, I can assure you of that. The Grigori and Our House split after the First War. We’re leaving this fray. Paris is withdrawing.”

  “Then who is it?” said Manon, a questioning in her eyes that would never go away.

  In Manon’s memory, the Grigori had fought well––blocking spells, sending their own in retaliation. They had a visceral claw-and-tooth approach. They also fought in numbers.

  I perused House Rookmaaker in my mind. Where was it, and how did I get there? There were no obvious signposts. Willow trees? Where were those? I felt directionless, delirious, and deciduous.

  The Grigori and someone else had taken over and were destroying Houses. I thought of the story I had heard about the Dark Lord. Perhaps Lenoir’s idea of redefining magic was making everyone an Eclectic. Destroying authority? It sounded like something I would do.

  If so, maybe only the Big Three were immune (Houses Harcort, Coven, and Ravenseal) and, okay, the Master House, itself. Should I have gone to Ravenseal? It would be safer, I thought.

  No; I made the right call. I was sure of it. Yet, a prickle of fear shot through me, causing my orchid to writhe up my arm. What if they came looking for me? What if the Grigori and whoever else came back to finish off my House and get me?

  I knew Rayven was back––He was a Watchtower, after all––perhaps... ––no... They’re gone; and nothing you do can bring them back...

  My parents were dead. I needed to take my own advice. Let go, Halsey girl, I said to myself, repeating Mistress Genevieve’s words.

  That left the Dark Order––those evil witches and wizards and otherkin kind who had been responsible for the First War–– Who were they? And were they the ones trying to stop me from forming House Rookmaaker?

  It was cold and wet; the sky opened up and began to pour. Manon fell in step beside me. Lennox and I briefed her on the thing which had been killing in the forest “...so obviously it’s one of us,” she said, “a magical... spirit... or something or other...

  “We should split up––no, listen––Halsey and I over here––and, Lennox, you that way; we’ll go twice as fast–– I’ll watch out for her, I promise,” she said.

  So Lennox headed down the left fork, and Manon and I the other. Pretty soon it was pitch-black. Not even the stars peeked overhead. I decided to use one of the spells, I’d learned, which would enable me to see in the dark. It was an interesting effect. Everything went night-vision green (“Wow, you have dog’s eyes,” said Manon, “the way they look in the dark”); now the forest stretched before me; I could see depth and detail. I motioned to a fork in the path up ahead. Manon put her fingertips to her forehead like she had a migraine. Suddenly her aether surged.

  Her eyes looked the way Rayven’s had done, filled with energy. “You want to split up?” she said, mischievously, with Lennox out of earshot.

  “I don’t know,” I hedged, stepping on one toe, then the other.

  “If anything happens, just scream, I’ll come find you. Swearsies.”


  So that’s what we did. It was like the three of us were spreading out, circling. Like we were a coordinated pack. Still, what would it be like to fly? To skim the treetops, staring down? At least you’re Crafting, I told myself.

  I played a little game with myself, there in the trees, imagining I was breaking through the willow trees, about to find my House. I should’ve just asked Manon why someone would want her coven destroyed? What were they up to that the Grigori had been sent?

  You’re either IN or you’re OUT, I suppose... A part or apart... Still, it was the first time I had ever heard anyone use the term Family, when speaking of a House––like they were tight-knit. No hierarchy in her group, I thought. I knew when Manon said she was a twelfth, she meant it the way a child does who’s the youngest in a house. She had escaped. They had protected her. They hadn’t given her up. Neither had my parents.

  Maybe, whoever this tungleskin was, it had just run away. Poof. Gone. The way Manon had escaped when the Grigori had come looking for her House.

  Here was a problem. A fundamental curse. If I wanted to know, at what price would I begin to learn the things I needed to find out?

  Ballard had helped me, and look what happened to him. He’d nearly been killed. Maybe splitting up was a good idea, or breaking up. Maybe, I dunno, I had to do this on my own, instead of leading other people astray. But that would mean starting over. Could I forget my past to find the future?

  My orchid twisted alive. What did it mean? Was it a feiknstafir? A Dark curse latched onto me?

  If what I thought was coming was, would I be able to handle it, or would the ones I cared about be drawn in? That was a dilemma for which there was no easy cure. I got down onto my hands and knees and crawled through the underbrush. The night vision made everything surreal. At any moment, I expected to stumble upon Rayven, so used was I to overhearing things I should not. Perhaps I’d talk to Manon about reinstating her House. She was Fledged, after all? That meant she could lead her own House.

  “Blindr,” I whispered.

  I turned off the night-vision spell. Suddenly, the woods came alive. I thought I heard something move ahead.

  “STOP IT,” I hissed, slapping my orchid.

  I could hear small animals scurrying for their meals. Of the two senses, sight or sound, I found hearing immeasurably superior, but there was also a sixth, magic, sense, tingling in my fingertips. Why did I suddenly have déjà vu? Perhaps it was because of what I had heard back at my birthday, in December, when Lennox hadn’t shown, and I had envisioned Rayven for the first time. He had kneeled down and a hissing voice had rasped:

  “The war is starting... Battle lines will be drawn... She and the vampire are headed towards Prague...”

  Well, the war was starting; I could feel it. Lines were being drawn––alliances forged––Houses hunted down and destroyed––others renewed. She and the vampire were in Prague... ME! I was her. Something fell into the pit of my stomach. Find the other one and kill him––

  * * *

  Ballard! I heard screaming. Lennox came crashing through. “Halsey, where’s Manon?”

  I opened my mouth to scream, but no words came out.

  “B-B-Ballard,” I whispered, trembling.

  “Ballard’s in trouble?”

  “Manon, find Manon...” I said.

  I felt myself falling––and then it was like I was flying, weightless through the air––I opened my eyes––there were bonfires in the distance––we broke through the trees––sailing across the face of the moon–– Lennox was carrying me!

  How could I have been so stupid? I wasn’t special at all! It was Ballard! Ballard was different––special––everyone said so.The first thing Rayven had ever said to me was, “Your friend, where is he?” He wasn’t interested in me at all. It was Ballard! Hadn’t Gaven told me to look out for him?

  Idiot. Selfish, I berated myself.

  Lennox was somehow flying through the air––I remembered thinking I would have to be fledged before I experienced that. What if Ballard somehow d-died? I couldn’t bring myself to face it. What would I do, then? Where would I go?

  Find the other one and kill him–– Of course they were after Ballard. He was Head Wolf, Il Gatto, the leader of the Sons and Daughters of Romulus... but this was before that had happened. Before Ballard had won the race. Lenoir had communicated with Rayven in my dreams. It hadn’t happened yet! They could just as soon have been talking about me. I was runner-up. It must have been something within Ballard, they wanted stopped; something even he didn’t know about. The Grey Wolf. Do not let IT survive. It had to be.

  “Rookmaaker... everything... Rookmaaker...” I whispered deliriously.

  I felt ourselves land, and me being passed over. “Take her, Manon. You were right. I will go faster.”

  “Halsey, you have to wake up.”

  Something cool slashed through me. “WAKE––UP!”

  “I’m here––what is it?”

  But where was I?

  “We have to hurry, come on!” said Manon. Lennox had dumped me off on her. She dragged me to my feet.

  Suddenly, I heard it, and Saw.

  Explosions, fire in the night. The benandanti were in trouble.

  Lennox, I thought.

  My consciousness came back to me; Manon ran ahead. We were on the edge of Stromovka; I could see firelight in the distance. Prague was behind us. Stromovka was burning.

  I battled my way through the trees after them, finding a well-worn path I knew by heart. It brought me out to the lake; from there it was a straight shot to the Hollow itself! The trees were all on fire. “BALLARD!” I shouted. If I was going to save him, I’d better do something quick. Lennox and Manon had already jumped into the fray.

  Smoke rose, spreading thick about me. I coughed, putting my sleeve over my mouth.

  My Mark! It was astonishingly, blindingly bright blue! The only time that’d ever happened, it meant Rayven was nearby. Was he? Of course he was! The Grigori had come burning! He must’ve been leading them! They were the THEM his Master had been talking about! The Dark Order!

  I flew down the path, feeling prickers and things dig into my skin, trying to remember the spells I’d learned.

  It was no good. I was doomed. I couldn’t see anything. And then my feet started going downhill. The hollow was full of impenetrable, black smoke. I didn’t know where I was going, but I saw spells erupting suddenly, everywhichway...

  Curses flew from one figure to the next, hitting some, flying past others. I found myself vápnlauss, without a weapon, wondering what to do. Are you a witch or aren’t you? Craft, I told myself.

  But I couldn’t just craft. Not without first finding Ballard...

  His domov. I skirted the upper edge of the Hollow. A meteor struck near my feet. Rayven wanted Ballard. Maybe they were back... And Ballard was one of them... The Watchtowers... That would be it. He was my Protector, after all. If so, what exactly did Watchtowers do, and was that why Ballard seemed to be on Rayven’s hit list?

  Was Lennox, or Marek, or Selwyn? But the Watchtowers were destroyed; my parents were destroyed.

  A blast from someone’s Mark erupted my way. “Skjotleikr.” My mark flared and suddenly I began to run really fast. It couldn’t be this simple... it couldn’t...

  “Sundr!”

  I fell on my face and slid through the moist earth. It was like I was paralyzed. A Grigori stood over me, drawing back his clawed hand, dripping fangs drooling on me.

  Suddenly, Laurinaitis appeared. “Come at me, small-guts,” he said.

  I could only watch as the Grigori prepared to strike.

  Laurinaitis’s face had taken on the characteristics of a jaguar. He plowed into the Grigori, bowling it over. They began to duel.

  It happened lightning-fast, each brandishing their spells at the other––Laurinaitis was tricky; he executed a series of blindingly-fast feints. All too soon, he dispatched the Grigori. At the same time, I got to my feet. “Are you o
kay, Halsey?”

  But there was no time––“no time...” I shouted. I raced ahead.

  I continued toward Ballard’s domov, Laurinaitis going the other direction.

  * * *

  The fighting continued around me. I stayed low, doing my best to breathe. It was around here somewhere. The flames were spreading thick and fast. What would the benandanti do without Stromovka? I couldn’t believe Rome had stuck their head in the sand. They had forgotten.

  I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. The benandanti had never forgotten. They watched and they waited. They hadn’t let their guard down once... Neither would I.

  Why, if things were so bad, hadn’t Mistress Genevieve ever said anything about it? Was she protecting me the way it felt my landlady had sometimes done? Yet, Risky had set Ballard and I down this path. Why?

  I found Ballard’s tree, and was just about to scale it, when a voice behind me made me turn fast.

  “Mine at last.”

  I whipped around and Rayven was standing right there. If he was a Grigori, why didn’t he look like one of them? He was scary, but essentially a wizard. They were monstrous. I didn’t get it.

  “What––do––you––want––Rayven?” I said. Whiny––but so what.

  He came forward, appearing from the smoke. I looked and saw my Gambalunga––pity I couldn’t just jump on it and ride away. Being in his presence, I saw why he had been a Watchtower. There was something smooth, urbane, about him. Yet, he had been corrupted. How?

  “You truly are alone,” he hissed.

  I snapped. I formed my W and thought of the worst feiknstafir I could imagine, before uttering it. It wasn’t enough. Rayven blocked it easily and sent his own spell shooting my way. “N for Neophyte. For not ready yet,” he said. His eyes lit up. “I don’t believe it...”

  Out of the darkness, the tungleskin had crept. It was the grey wolf. But it wasn’t evil... It wasn’t even there to kill me...

  “That’s one of the Lares,” said Rayven, astonishment coloring his features.

  I looked at his Mark; back to my own. Both of ours were glowing. There was no telling what Rayven’s Virtue could be. Did he even have one? We were connected somehow, to the grey wolf, there in Stromovka.