Neophyte / Adept (13 page)

Asher was creeping
around on his padded feet and I have still not seen a transformation.
Although... Veruschka Ravenseal did make lights fly out of her hand. If one is
real, the other probably is as well. I can’t help thinking Ballard is going to
say, “Surprise! Fooled ya! I’m not really a werewolf, after all!”

I miss my room. I miss
Via dei Condotti. If I had a home, I would say I wanted to go there. But I
don’t.

Do you just stop being
an orphan when you turn eighteen? Does it just turn off, in the same way it
sounds like Gaven will turn off, when he becomes a tricenarian?

Despite what she may
say, or however much she may want to be a Wiccan, I know Lia will go with
Gaven, when he decides to leave. I don’t see him drifting through Rome saying
Remember When?

Question: if I had to
give it up, to stop being a witch, would I? For Lennox?

I put my pen down and thought about it. The candle guttered,
then came back.

I guess what I’m
saying is, it’s between love and something else. And I am at a crossroads. As
is Lia. We didn’t see it coming. But it’s here. It’s here.

Chapter 13
– The Styles Master

Lia bolted down her breakfast, a chocolatey cappuccino, and
two pieces of bruschetta, a lovely Italian word, meaning toast.

We were late for practice, and I had not eaten anything.
“You can’t conjure on an empty stomach,” Lia chastised me.

“Honestly, I’m more worried about throwing up when they
realize I can’t
do
Magic,” I said, as
we hurried along.

The tunnels went all over the place. I frequently had to
check my map. Finally, we got there.

The central chamber was even more ominous than I
remembered––perhaps my last visit, and Maria’s snickering, had made
it that way for me. The sandpit looked gladiatorial. One wizard was standing
there. Unlike the previous time, nobody else was up in the stands, laughing
behind their hands, and whispering secret nothings about me.

Was I being paranoid?

Anyway.

As was our wont, Lia and I showed up late. We stood in a
line next to the other Initiates, whom I could swear, said, “About time.” The
wizard looked at us sternly.

He was––
awesome
-looking;
there was no other way to describe it. One of those people beyond description.

He was in a loose-fitting white shirt with an open front. No
wizard garb for him. The sleeves were rolled up. It looked like something
someone would have worn to a duel... two hundred years ago––

I could see his Mark. It looked like a scar.

It twisted viciously up the length of his forearm; I
wondered who had cut him... If that was even the right word.

Bright bits of metal, like rings with fingernails on them,
were on his thumb, index, and middle fingers. They looked like talons.

But when I saw his face...

He had dark hair; it fell in locks. His shining, bright
eyes, were like two limpid pools; they invited you for a swim; to get lost in
them. He had a tall alabaster forehead, but on him it looked reckless and
daring.

He waited for us to stop gushing among ourselves, perhaps
used to female attention. The other Initiates and I couldn’t help ourselves.
“Oh boy,” said Lia.

I sympathized. He was totally and completely
incredible-looking. It made your mind go blank just staring at him. Where had
he come from? Why were we just seeing him now?

He introduced himself, but I don’t think any of us heard
him. “Ladies...” he said, trying to gather our attention.

He smiled, and it was dazzling. One of the Initiates popped.
She reappeared someplace else.

“Spontaneous crafting. I like it,” he said.

He waited for her to come back down, before he began again.
She had traveled without thinking about it, all the way up into the rocks.

“My name is Professor Lux,” he said. His voice was mellow,
articulate. It said things exactly how they should be said.

The other girls giggled. One of them made a joke.

“Please,” he said. “We have not much time. You may call me
Lux.”

Lux smiled and I felt my stomach butterflies. They were
winging around, completely out of control. It wasn’t enough that I was going to
have to fail, but I had to do so in front of Professor Lux! Not fair!

“I am the Styles Master,” he said.

“What coven are you from?” asked the girl who had spoken
before. She had heavily-lidded bronze-colored eyes and witch-black hair. She
looked at him like a bird of prey.

“Ravenseal,” he said.

The other Initiates nodded. As far as they were concerned,
it was the only House, and they would be joining it shortly.

“My job is to prepare you for the Wiccan world...” He said.
“Yes, you had a question?”

“How
old
are you?”

They giggled again.

Lux shot it down with a wave of his off-magic hand; the
other one fascinated me, particularly the scar. His Mark was so deep it was
like it was embedded in his flesh. Like his arm had ceased to be an arm and was
pure
Magic.

“Old enough that I am used to people listening while I speak,”
he said.

Lux continued. “As I was saying. Time is precious. You have
had to wait a long, long time. Now suddenly things are expected from you.”

“It’s unfair,” said one.

“What’s your name?”

“Badgley.”

Professor Lux had us go down the line: so I learned that the
heavily-lidded girl was Vittoria. She was Basque. From Spain.

I introduced myself and Professor Lux kept his eyes on me
for a while. Lia desperately tried to nudge me.

“Well, welcome to you all. The first thing we will be doing
over the next few months...”

“Months!”

There was a general complaint that this was far too long.

“Months,” said Professor Lux. “You do not just whisper a few
silly words and everything is solved for you. Nor do you spellcast without the
proper appreciation of the ethics involved. To speak nothing of
laws––or
ardanes
as we
will now call them.”

I glowed. Something I was up on.

“Magic is mysterious. It is mind-maddening Magic. Both in
who it chooses and how it chooses them.

“I will let you in on a little secret,” said Lux. “Magic
chooses everyone. But so few actually want it. They let it go.”

He stared around at all of us. “That’s part of the test, you
see,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would do anything
for Magic,” said Badgley.

“Well, you’ll be given that opportunity,” said Lux.

“If you’re the
Styles
Master,” said Vittoria, dragging it through the dirt. “Then you must be
proficient in
all
styles. But why do
you wear the rings?”

There was a consensus that this was a very good question. It
was also completely rude. Professor Lux, give him credit, let it slide off. In
fact, he answered the question.

“I don’t Craft anymore; not without these rings. And even
then I choose to solve my situational problems by any means other than actual
Magic. The reasons are my concern. You had a question.”

“Yes sir,” said one of the Initiates, whose name, I believe,
was Shaharizan. “It’s just that––forgive me––your scars
are very deep––and as you’re the Styles
Master
...”

“These are not scars. They are my Wiccan
Mark––something most of us will be learning about––”

“Yes but, like, uh, Vittoria said...”

“Speak...”

“If you know every style,
your
style must be every style.”

“It’s true. My virtue is Virtuosity. These are the marks of
someone with that style.”

There was a moment of silent awe.

“I told you,” said Lia who nudged me again.

“The Wiccan Virtues manifest themselves in the orientation,
dimensions, and complexity of our Wiccan Marks, which is why Wiccans are very
particular about who they let see them. Know the Mark, and you know the person.
Virtuosity cuts through almost everything. That is why it is so pronounced. And
prized. Whereas Malleability is hardly ever seen. It’s transitory. It can be
anything. In that sense, it is the antithesis of Virtuosity. Virtuosity is bold
and open. It says, ‘Look at me!’ Malleability is trickier than that.”

He proceeded to list the Wiccan Marks.

“Insight is straight. Very little detouring in the vein
work,” he said. “It wants to
know
.

“Discretion. Discretion puts up walls. Very ornate marks. A
lot of fury. But it’s to mask something else.

“Severeness is thick. Humor corkscrews.

“Goodwill... The last two are peace-loving. It and Grace can
sometimes appear as flowers... We have a lot to get to...”

He showed us how to direct our magic. The talons on his hand
were like some kind of superconducting aid to help him focus his Magic––as
though it had somehow cracked. As though he had somehow been handicapped.
Despite what he said about his scars––or non-scars, if he was to be
believed––there was a story there.

“Forefinger straight,” he said. “The thumb and middle finger
are like wings.” He called it the W. “Make the W,” he said.

“W for Wicca.” I watched as Vittoria milked all the
attention from him she could get. He directed her hand with his own. She
smirked so he could not see, as he stood behind her. I watched as she pressed
herself up against him.

“Yes, well. I think you’re getting it,” he said. “How are we
doing, Miss Rookmaaker?”

“Very good, sir.” I directed it and a spell erupted from my
fingertips. Lia whooped. But she went back to straining with her own.

“I can’t––”

Lux held my arm. His other hand was around my waist. He was
directing me from behind. I thought I might not be able to breathe anymore. Or
that my panting might give me away. Instead I held my breath. What was it with
Magic and hot guys?

“I have seen some Marks that wrapped themselves around the
wearer’s arm, forming almost a glove,” he said into my neck.

I nodded, trying not to hyperventilate, he was so close.

“That’s
very
good.
The Marks themselves are a callous. This is very important!” said Lux,
releasing me. I breathed again. He walked among the partners, listening to
them, watching as they tried to shoot one another with their Wiccan Marks. But
the spells, whatever they were, were like ghosts of spells.

“The callous will form only as you practice and learn to
control
your Magic!” said Lux.

“So my Mark––,” said one girl.

“Will reveal itself in its own good time,” said Lux. He
clapped his hands together, drawing our attention. “Next time we will be
learning about ardanes. And we still have to get you guys to recite the Wiccan
Rede. No Magic without the Oath, I’m afraid.”

He dismissed us.

We filed out, and it was like flames erupting. The other
girls and I couldn’t stop talking about Lux.

* * *

That evening at dinner was like some kind of
announcement––everyone was there again. Lia and I continued to sit
with the other Initiates.

I felt very Dragon Girl. Like we were being prepped for some
kind of sacrifice or something.

If the other Initiates and I and Lia were going to have some
kind of camaraderie, Did it involve being thrown into the mouth of a waiting
animal
together
or just one at a
time?

“There are only so many spots,” said Vittoria. She plopped a
pickled beet in her mouth. “Listen, I heard all about it. They don’t take all
of us. Just some.”

“Which Wiccan coven do you think you’ll be in, Vittoria?”
asked one of them.

“I want Ravenseal. It seems by far the best. What about you,
Halsey?”

I dropped my fork. She was looking down the row at me.

“Ravenseal would be nice,” I said, buying time and
remembering Professor Lux’s arms around me. Was it really true that the Wiccan
covens only had so many spots? If so they were treating us extremely unfairly.
“To tell you the truth,” I said. Vittoria’s eyebrows went up. “I don’t think I
will
be in any of the covens, er, Houses.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because of where I’m from,” I said.

“Which is?”

I thought about it some more. “Not here,” I said.

I
wasn’t
from
here. I didn’t belong here. But I would make do. I would make the best of it.
I will craft
, I told myself.

I had... I could...

Vittoria’s baiting couldn’t get me down though; oh yes, I
know you, I thought, as I looked at her.

“Well I want Ravenseal,” she said. “They seem... competent.
That northern coven has a chip on its shoulder. And look at Mariska’s hair. And
she’s the Head?”

Vittoria seemed utterly unconvinced.

“What about Harcort?” I asked.

“Stupid name,” said Vittoria. “Stupid House. I’d rather be a
dog.”

“Hey! Watch it!” said Lia, giving her the Evil Eye.

“Oh! I forgot! You
run
with them... don’t you?” she said.

But it was broken up by the tinkling of silverware against
crystal glass.

The delegates from the
five
Houses, rose to their feet–– That is, Ravenseal, Harcort, Coven,
Lenoir, and The Sons and Daughters of Romulus.

Everyone quietened down. Gaven was looking dashing as
always. I couldn’t help but picture him in all his six-nine magnificence being
mad at the other VIPs. Could a werewolf beat a magician, or a vampire, for that
matter; and, if so, were we in any danger of putting it to the test?

I also wondered how he and Lia kissed. He was
super
tall.

Fortunately, they had more grand designs.

“Professor Lux says the Initiates are coming along well.”
Gaven indicated him.

Lux looked roguishly handsome, but he was too self-effacing
to make much of the compliment. The Gathering lost interest in him. They were
more interested in what the big secret was. I looked around at them all.

At all of the male and female vampires; there were over
fifty of them.

The Werewolves, of course. The Pack, if anything, seemed to
be growing in number. So there was a healthy dose of females in the population.
Being called occurred regardless of gender. Over half of them were women.

I caught sight of Locke, who looked away from me, when he
saw me staring.

And the Wiccans. So many Wiccans. Their robes were like
jewels: amethysts and emeralds, rubies, and sapphires...

The men favored blue and the women a variety of hues. But
there were a few outcasts. I saw the serious one.

Gaven said, “Part of any get-together is knowing how to have
fun
!”

Maria looked like she could disagree but didn’t say
anything.

“That is why, this Saturday, the Gathering will be
transformed, from a dire attempt to decide the fates of our three worlds, to an
evening to remember...”

I couldn’t be sure but I thought I saw him blush. But he
carried on gallantly anyway. Gaven speechmaking was something I was getting
used to. But now that I knew this about him I was beginning to accept him as
the Leader of Leaders––or the Host of Hosts.

If this were Paris, it would be Maria making this speech.

“Three nights from now, we will be having a Ball,” he said.
“And that isn’t hyperbole!”

His joke fell flat on the ears of his audience.

“You know! A dance!” Gaven said.

My brain began catching up with what he was saying.

“Yes, each of you are encouraged to find a date, if you do
not already have one. There will be dancing, and I’m sure, plenty of
opportunity to get to know the rest of the many interesting people we have here
with us. This Gathering,” went on Gaven, “will be attended by more than just
those of you who are assembled here, so you are encouraged to look your bests.
Now I know my own
fiancée
is probably
thinking she has nothing to wear...” Nervous laughter. “Not to worry. Come
tomorrow night, you officially have forty-eight hours to attend to whatever you
need to attend to: including getting a date!”

Okay, now he was just being mean.

“That means the tongue-tied will need to loosen those
tongues, and everyone else––all of you suave ladies and
gentlemen––work that mojo!”

Definite laughter. “The Ball will begin at eight p.m., and
continues until Midnight. It is an excellent opportunity to say hello to those
you may not have spoken to before now, and to get those bonds of friendship
solidified, which really, this whole endeavor is about anyway. Anyone else?” he
said, looking around. Now that he was on a roll, Gaven seemed to be enjoying
himself.

The other delegates, all of whom were female, said nothing.
They just smiled at him. Gaven therefore wrapped up with this sentiment.

“If we can enjoy ourselves together for one night, just
imagine what we could do if we had all the time in the world?” He sat back
down.

The Meadpalace absolutely erupted.

Vittoria was off, enumerating all of the problems. “I don’t
even
know
anyone here. Much less any
of the boys. There are not hot guys here. Oh excuse me. Unless you want to get
fleas.”

Lia ignored her. “You know what this means,” she said to me.
“We finally get to go
shopping
!”

It burst like a spell from her unformed Mark. She squee’d
uncontrollably. I had to admit. Now that I thought about it, it sounded like
fun.

“But who will take
you
?”
she said to me.

Reality dropped back into my stomach, along with about a
million butterflies.

I didn’t know anyone here; when I ran through the guys, all
I said was no, no, no. This was ridiculous. Where was Lennox?

Gaven was getting himself sloshed down at the long table.
The vampires were all carrying on among themselves. So at least this was an
opportunity to get them out of their antisocial rut. But did I want to know any
of them?

“Who were the visitors Ballard was talking about?” I said
suddenly. “Who were the visitors Ballard was talking about?” They must’ve been
these non-Gathering gatherers––The outsiders who were
insiders––The rest of the Magical and Supernatural world! Politics!
I told myself.

Lia was thinking about where we should go. But we still had
one more day of Wiccan training to attend to, and
then––gulp–– I suddenly had no time. This was just
wrong, throwing this off on me with just short notice. Honestly...

I didn’t even have my makeup or anything. Who was going to
do my hair?

I didn’t want to go to a stupid ball. I wanted to study
Magic.

“Halsey. Calm down. You look like you’re hyperventilating,”
she said to me.

“Hyper is right,” I told Lia. “I wish my Mark would just
form, so I could conjure my way out of this. I better not be thick like
Mistress Genevieve. She looks like she has a runway going down her arm. I want
swirls.”

“And you’ll get swirls,” said Lia, who looked like she
thought I was cracking up.

“If I could do Magic I could just Alcatraz or alakazam...
Ali Baba...”

“Abracadabra,” said Lia.

“Yes that. Just
do
my hair,” I said, indicating a strenuous motion that would result in my hair
changing color.

“Would you really want to? You have such lovely hair. It’s
like mine. We could be sisters.”

“Purple or magenta or some other derring-do.”

“You punned.”

“Pardon?”

“You punned.
Daring
do.
Is that what you’re worried about, that your hair won’t be right?”

I blew a strand of hair out of my face. “We don’t all have
boyfriends, Lia. Well, boyfriends who are here all of the time,” I said. “That
reminds me. When did you decide to get married? Never mind. There’s no time. No
time... to hear your life story. I mean, did you pursue him or did he, Gaven, pursue
you?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Ballard came over, but she shooed him away. He left
hurriedly. He didn’t even argue. Which meant my face must really look horrible.

“My parents didn’t want us seeing each other,” said Lia.
“They didn’t approve of Gaven.”

“But he’s Gaven,” I said, looking at her through my hands.
If I had mascara on, it would be running all over my face. “And you’re so
beautiful-looking.
Italianate.
Sleek
and ridiculous. I’m a potato farmer.”

“Knock it off,” she said. She could see me judging myself.
“You’re not a nottie.”

“No?”

“Uh-uh,” she said; except it sounded like mm-mm. “If I were
a guy, I’d be all over that. Naughty not nottie.”

“You made a pun,” I said.

“So where were we?”

“You were being all
Romeo
and Juliet
. Gaven was from the House of Montague. And you were her, the
girl from Verona.”

“Right––so they didn’t approve. They thought he
was a troublemaker. I thought he looked most comely on the back of his
motorcycle. But then one day––he
changed
.”

“You mean he became a werewolf,” I said, “you saw him
transform?”

“No. But he started chasing me like a dog. He wouldn’t stop
asking me out. He even gamboled a time or two.”

“So that’s what love is? Making a fool of yourself?” I said.

“I’m not saying make a fool of yourself. Just look for
someone who would make you happy
for one
night
. You have forever to fall back on with Whosie-whatsit. Although I
don’t recommend doing it that way.”