Neophyte / Adept (The Wiccan Diaries, Books 2-3)

by T. D. McMichael

  “And no friends,” said Veruschka Ravenseal. “He was a mediocre wizard. You can bury him immediately. The Wiccan rites must be performed, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Gaven. The other two Mistresses nodded, as if this made perfect sense.

  Maria said, “Well, I’m leaving. Congratulations on another wonderful Gathering, everyone.” Which was weird, because for some of us, it was our first. And our last...

  “Yes,” said Pier Alexander. “It’s so nice to get together. Let’s go, my dear.” He put his arm out for her to take it.

  “Oh, and Halsey.” Maria caught my attention before she left. “Asher wanted me to tell you something, but I’ve forgotten it. Oh, he says you’re a very powerful young lady, and––I guess that’s it. Ta-ta.”

  “Yeah. Chow,” said Ballard.

  “Woof!” said Maria to Ballard.

  She left us there.

  “Did they ever get a pick?” I asked, but Lia shook her head. “The Lenoir never chose an Initiate,” she said.

  “So I guess they’ll be taking Asher back with them?” I said.

  But she pointed over my shoulder. At Maria’s leaving, Pier Alexander and the Mistresses had gone as well. I was glad to see the back of Veruschka Ravenseal, who gave me one last reproachful look before leaving. A look that said everything it needed to. She would be expecting me in Prague sometime soon. I had little more than a fortnight to get my affairs in order. Asher tapped my shoulder, as I turned around, and I gave him a gigantic hug.

  He said, over my shoulder, to Gaven, “So––is that it, then?”

  I released Asher. Gaven was nodding. “We just have to take care of the body,” he said. “I have to warn you. It’s pretty badly slashed up.”

  “So you don’t think it was them, then?” said Asher.

  “It’s too bad you can’t look into the minds of the dead to see evidence of who their killers may have been,” said Gaven. “Halsey, Lia... I have to say, if you don’t have to see this... I don’t think you should.”

  Lia nodded. I picked up the three hairs. “These were on the body?” I asked.

  “I’ll take them,” said Gaven.

  “Come on,” said Lia. She took my hand, and we went back to our dormitory, but not before I dropped the hairs into Gaven’s outstretched hand.

  * * *

  Lia was restless. “I can’t think. And that poor man,” she said. We listened as the Team Leaders continued breaking up the werewolves into groups. Locke’s voice sounded above the rest. (“Patrol in groups. Use your noses. Sniff this monster out.”) They barked in acknowledgement. Suddenly the voices cut out.

  Lia snorted. “He’s not staying around to be picked up by you lot,” she said to herself.

  “Locke seems competent,” I said. “Although he isn’t exactly the nicest person...” It sounded like they had just transformed, changed into werewolves. Snuffling instead of shouting. I wanted to go see.

  “How do you communicate with each other when you’re in your wolf forms?” I asked.

  “Sorry, kid. That’s top-secret. And seems is right,” she said. She was back thinking about Locke again. “I can’t just sit here,” she said. “Don’t you want to do something? Or, I don’t know, get into a fight, or something?”

  “Honestly, I don’t think I’m powerful enough yet,” I said. “Even you were chosen before me.” I laughed.

  Lia snorted.

  “What is it?” I said.

  “Gaven. He said they all got together––the other werewolves. You know, at the Colosseum. Anyway, guess who they wanted to pick?”

  “Who?” I said. “You mean at the Gathering?”

  “You,” said Lia. “They wanted to pick you as their Initiate.”

  “Me?” I said. I couldn’t believe it.

  Lia nodded.

  I didn’t know whether to be flattered––or... Maybe that settled it. Maybe I was supposed to be a werewolf––or well some type of shapeshifter. The dreams couldn’t be wrong, could they?

  “They were giving me all kinds of crap. The one thing about a pack,” said Lia, “is there are no secrets. Too many ears out, and tongues wagging.”

  Ears out, eyes out. I waited for her to vent some more.

  “According to my brother,” said Lia, laying back in her bunk bed, which was above mine, “wolves have sharp instincts, terribly sharp, like their teeth, and werewolves even more so.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “You know, you say that a lot,” she said. But she was only joking. “I’ll tell you what I mean. You and me.”

  “What about us?” I said. I sat up in my bed and looked up at her. “You’re not angry with me about something, are you?” I said.

  “No, no, no. Nothing like that,” said Lia. “That’s Ballard who’s like that. But he’ll grow out of it. I hope. Gaven expects big things from Ballard. And that’s always difficult. Take us for example. First we were potentials, and now, look at us, one of us may be Her, this Chosen One; although if you ask me, His Hotness, Mr. Lux, is right about that, and it all sounds like hokum. But maybe some hokum with some truth. There are dark days ahead for us. I can feel it. But you know what I mean.... Maybe I only showed because you showed up.”

  “Lia...” I said.

  “That’s their theory, anyway. The other werewolves. And the Wiccans seemed to know about it, too. They sent that Invitation to me. And to you. They’re keeping track of us, Halsey. How did they know I was causing wall sockets to explode and my microwave to blow up? They didn’t see me accidentally craft, did they?”

  “Did you?” I said, genuinely awed.

  She looked down at me, nodding. “You must’ve shown, too,” she said.

  I shook my head, but she said, “Maybe you just don’t know it.”

  “Your Mark is more formed than mine,” I said. “I was never able to do anything. Why did they want me, The Sons and Daughters of Romulus... if you could do all of those things?”

  “Well, that’s it, isn’t it?” said Lia. “The other werewolves have been taking me for granted, you see. But Gaven figured different. He didn’t want to take any chances on somebody else picking me, so he blew his pick on me. To protect me. Which is why some of the werewolves––Locke, for instance––have been calling for his head––and his Headship.”

  “You mean they don’t want him to be Il Gatto, anymore?” I said.

  “Correct,” said Lia. And already, Halsey, they are positioning themselves, for who will replace him. So instead of worrying about this Gathering, Gaven has to look over his own shoulder, at his Pack. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair at all. What you and I need to be is like this.” She entwined two of her fingers of her Wiccan W. “Strongass and together. You know what I mean?”

  “Lia...” I said.

  “I know right.”

  “No. Look,” I said.

  “What?” she said. She looked what my head was pointing at. Which was at my Mark. I had brushed the sleeves back.

  There, in the darkness, where it was just the two of us, my Wiccan Mark flowered silver bright. It was a flower. Faint outlines of petals twisted up my right arm, wrapping themselves around my forearm, like a sleeve, almost.

  It was an orchid.

  My fingers tightened and this heat raced up my arm. It seemed to energize my entire being. I had swirls and flowers, and my Mark––I was either Grace or Goodwill.

  “Lia...” I said, “it’s my Virtue.”

  The orchid was twisting away from me like it was reaching for the sun, but there wasn’t any to be had; it writhed and twisted, newly-formed and alive. When I looked at Lia her jaw was hanging open.

  It was full of the aether, the Mark, the source of my Wiccan power. My delta was on fire. It burned like liquid ore; my gut clenched. I had to grit my teeth; but as fast as it came the pain receded. It traced through my body, like forged steel hissing in water––forging me. Until it glowed and I put my robe sleeve down. I felt like I could do or be anything. It
was awesome. The fire in my veins was gone. But as it had passed something new was there, I didn’t entirely understand yet. “Okay. That. Has. Never. Happened. To. Me,” said Lia, and meant it. She was nearly falling out of her bed.

  “I nearly melted,” I said, gasping and breathing heavily.

  “That must be what it’s like to be a Neophyte and to have your Mark. Your real Wiccan Mark,” said Lia.

  I nodded.

  Is that what this was? Did I have mine now?

  “No one can know,” I said to Lia. “Not even Ballard, not anyone. If tongues waggle, I’ll rip them out.”

  “No. I swear. It’s just between us. Promise,” she said.

  “Sister swear,” I said.

  She did her two-finger thing again––and winked at me. There was an energy in her bright eyes. “We’re going to need that power,” she said to me.

  “Lia. The world is getting ready to shift. I can feel it also. What I thought was important, isn’t,” I said. “And what I never thought about before has suddenly become important. These people can’t be trusted. They’re all of them dangerous. And something more. I can’t explain it, but Rome is the key. That’s why they all wanted to meet here. To look it over. I think Gaven knows this. But he’s careful who he lets in on his secrets. You’re right about that.”

  She nodded her head. “Do you know?” she said. “I feel dangerous. I mean really, really, powerfully dangerous.”

  “We are,” I said. “We just don’t know it yet.” I flexed my fingertips. “But I think we’re beginning to find that out.”

  “I can’t wait until I Burn,” she said, and showed me her Wiccan Mark. It was still nebulous. Under-formed. “I think you are her. If such a creature exists. The One,” said Lia. “Not even Vittoria––I’m sure of it––even she wouldn’t have a Mark like that. A flower. They’re really rare. I mean, from what I could see of her fingertips. I don’t think even any of the Mistresses had a Mark like that. And they’re from one of the Three. Heads. You must be super powerful.”

  “But what good is Grace or Goodwill?” I said. And I didn’t say it, but Vittoria’s Mark––it was a poisonous flower––deadly nightshade. What good was my Mark against so much enmity in the world?

  Chapter 25 – The Last Pendderwenn

  Not having names, I realized, was a great way to mask allegiances. Who was Selwyn working for? What was his Mark? What was his House? And Marek? Was he with the Lenoir? They had a death warrant out on him. So Marek had told me. How did that work? Lia continued to talk about the Pack and her place within it.

  “Lia, you’re safe. You’re one of them. It’s me. I’m not,” I said. “I’m off. Haven’t you noticed how brainwashed everyone is? If you aren’t from someone’s House, that’s it. You aren’t one of them. And if you are, you better toe the line, or it’s a threat, and an or else. I’m really scared about the state of Wicca,” I said. “But I definitely feel you. And I smell you, too. P-U. Is that you? It smells like wet dog in here.”

  The snuffling was coming closer. I peeked up at Lia. She was snoring.

  The snuffling was now at the slats in my door. Lia made a noise like Mrgnagh. And the handle turned.

  Selwyn was standing there. Except he wasn’t a cat any longer. He was a man. And he seemed to be deathly afraid of being found out. I understood why.

  The black hairs. Selwyn-cat had stood over Julius Pendderwenn’s dead body.

  Of the two of them, one thing could be said for Pendderwenn, which could not be said for Selwyn. At least, with Pendderwenn, you knew where he stood. His allegiance had been to Pendderwenn House. So who was Selwyn’s allegiance to?

  He held his fingertips up to his lips, bidding me to be quiet, but I was not some doormat, he could not step on me whenever he chose?

  “Why are you here,” I said, “and what do you want? You come and you go, Selwyn, but who are you, anyway?” I was whispering so Lia wouldn’t wake up. Something told me if I had to use my Wiccan W it might just jerry-rig something up to ward off a sneaking cat. Selwyn must’ve needed every bit of his silent cat paws to get through the swarm of snuffling werewolves who were outside. “I know it was you,” I said. “They found cat hairs, Selwyn. Black bits of you. You killed Julius Pendderwenn. You slashed him up.”

  He held his hands up. “I’m innocent,” he said. There was no blood on them.

  “You could have washed them off. Or licked them off,” I said. “Your claws retract, don’t they, when you put back on your people suit?”

  “I didn’t do it,” he said. “I was trying to save him. I––I swear. I’m trying to save you.”

  “From what?”

  “Halsey Rookmaaker...” he gasped. “You already know the answer to that.”

  “Tell me, then,” I said. “And stop calling me Halsey Rookmaaker.” I didn’t like his voice. Like he knew what I wanted to know. Which was secrets. Selwyn looked like he was in a panic.

  “I can’t do that,” he said.

  “What, tell me, or stop calling me Halsey Rookmaaker?”

  “Both,” he said. “Besides... People can’t just be told... They have to be shown.... And whatever this is... you need to see it...”

  “What do you mean?” I said and realized that Lia had been right about that. It was the refrain of somebody who didn’t have a clue. Me.

  I thought about waking her up, but Selwyn said, “There is no need to involve your friend in anything dangerous tonight. I certainly would not. You will be safe with me. Perhaps together we can find out what neither of us knows. Come, Halsey Rookmaaker. I wish to show you everything,” he said.

  He held out his hand to mine. I glared up at him, but I put my hood up, and took his paw. He saw the flash of my Wiccan Mark, whereupon his eyes marveled.

  “What is it?” I said, but he shook his head.

  “Take your excellent motorbike,” he said. “We have a trip to make.”

  “How far is it?” I said, but before Selwyn could answer he started to shake. His teeth chattered. Even his skull shook. It started doing funny things, like it was alive. Moving.

  “I––really––hate––this part––” he said.

  He transformed before my very eyes into the spectacular eight-foot-long, shining black cat; his fur was like velvet; his eyes, two gemstones sitting on jewelry cushions. In theory, there is always doubt, reasonable or otherwise, but look into somebody’s eyes, you see the truth, and his were saying: “Trust me.”

  We disappeared into the night together. Selwyn padded through the cold stone corridors with me at his heels. We encountered no one. He seemed to have a preternatural sense. An intuition that was not unlike Ballard’s, who frequently got funny feelings around people. Selwyn’s was the ability to disappear.

  In no time at all, I found myself standing before my Gambalunga. It spit and started. Selwyn bounded ahead. It took everything I had to keep up with him.

  Soon, we had left the Gatheringplace far behind, and were out in countryside. I felt free. Like I could do anything. I opened the throttle and followed after Selwyn who disappeared over the hilltops like a flash in the night. I would have to give him a nickname in my diary. He ran like a bolt of lightning. Thunderpaws, I decided.

  He was taking us towards Rome... The direction gave me pause. But not really. I wasn’t a werewolf yet.

  I drew even with him and let the Gambalunga backfire––the citadel, shining in the distance, stopped. Selwyn cantered and then came to a standstill. He licked his snout and caught his breath. His blue eyes shined at me.

  “You’re not a were,” I said, “weres are something else.” I blew into my hands. It was bitterly cold out. The seasons had passed while I was underground. “You’re a wizardpanther,” I said. “You did this by magic. The Maleficarum. Of course. Witches can turn into cats. And a wizard is a witch, if he knows witchcraft. I’m just talking to myself, trying to figure things out,” I said. “It’s like the whole King-Cat-Dog thing. But why, if you can do it, can’t Lia? Be magi
cal and a shapeshifter. Because you’re not a shapeshifter. Or a natural shapeshifter, anyway. She’s a werewolf. Born with it. But you were not. You’re a wizard who learned to shift. Now I’m aware. We can continue now,” I said.

  He paused and then did a double take. Selwyn-cat ran on and the wind through my Wiccan hoodie was like the hiss of being Marked. I watched him leap through the countryside. Pretty soon we were on the outskirts of Rome. To a place that I knew all too well. The late-night drivers didn’t see us, as we maneuvered through heavy traffic. First Ballard had shown me. Now Selwyn. I wanted to know why.

  He caught his breath and then transformed back into a human being. The black panther disappeared behind an old newspaper stand, and Selwyn reappeared. I parked my Gambalunga and the motor cut out. “I’ve been here before,” I said, looking at the abandoned movie theater across the street. The letters, drooping from the marquee, spelled out disaster. Volt and Pouch had been hurt, I remembered, from standing guard duty here. I looked at Selwyn.

  “The Dioscuri are inside of there,” he said.

  “But why have you brought me here?” I said.

  “Because I knew your parents. Kinsey and Maximilian Rookmaaker. They would want their daughter to know what happened to them. I want to know,” said Selwyn. “That is why we are here. Max was my mentor, you see.” He looked at me. “He initiated me. He initiated you too,” said Selwyn.

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “Come on, Halsey. Haven’t you been paying attention? How else did they know about you? The Lenoir? The Three? The Dioscuri? They have big plans for you.”

  “I’ve been looking for Magic,” I said––and I didn’t like hearing that last bit again. It’s what Veruschka had said to me.

  “You’ve been expected,” he said. He shook his black hair out of his face. Selwyn was sweating slightly. I realized it must’ve been from the run. I was glad I had my thick Initiate’s robe on. The stars of a cold winter Roman night were out and about. The wind was whipping through my hair. Not a headlight could be seen down the dark and empty street.