The Wiccan Diaries: Neophyte Adept Part 49

"The door that squeaks loudest deserves the most attention," he said.

"What does that even mean?" I was looking at him pointy-eyed.

"Nothing. I just made it up," said Ballard. "But you get my point."

"NoI really don't. And as for needing your advice, I'm older than you, by about two years, so why you think you can give me it... Are you even allowed to drive yet? Trust me, Ballard, Vittoria just wants a little nudge, before she goes full evil. I'm waiting, by the way... For you to tell me what's going on."

We continued down the empty stretch of road. (Getting married in the evening was an unusual choice. I supposed it had something to do with Trastevere's connection to the mysterious drama of otherkin cultures.) "Tell me," he said, "have you ever heard of the Benandanti?"

"Aren't they werewolves? Lia told me."

Ballard grimaced.

"She shouldn't have said that. The benandanti are indeed werewolvesbut from a northern sect. Actually, they embrace all kinds of change. Your friend Asher is one of them, and he was an ailuranthrope. His mother was a Benandantus. Gaven told me. He also told me to keep an eye on Asher, when we were at the Gatheringbut then you and I weren't speaking. It's not important. Anyway, this thing may be a rogue from their tribe. I have people monitoring north of here. Several teams of Riders, in fact, are tracking it... The hunter...

"But he's clever, whoever he is. Always manages to elude us. Which is why I closed the border. Ravenseal made an unscheduled incursion, two weeks agothis was when Gaven was Head Wolf. He turned them back. Didn't know what to think. Apparently, they were coming for you. Do you know anything about that?"

"Who was it? Who was it from Ravenseal?" I said.

"Some inspector or other. The point is, we don't want it coming down here to Italy, the monster. I'll fill you in after the wedding, okay? Honestly, I was going to anyway. There just hasn't been a moment to catch up. Hopefully when things settle down, we can do more you and me stuff. Have you been doing any research?"

But it was too late. We were at the campagna, the countryside surrounding Romeand it was filled with people, and Lia's wedding was about to begin. I didn't like this new regimented lifestyle.

Huge tents stretched upward in the night sky, rockets of cypresses overhanging them, including one rather large pavilion, under which sat a mult.i.tude of chairs and tables, and what looked to be a dance floor. Great. I think my flesh-eating b.u.t.terflies were back. I had been so busy haranguing Ballard to tell me stuff I forgot one of my duties tonight was to address the attendants during a wedding toast. Public speaking was not my forte. Ballard however seemed entirely at ease. He stuck by my side even when several of his men made their way through the swarms of people and wizards and werebeasts to whisper into his earssometimes simultaneously. I had seen these same warriors hang on Gaven's every word.

Ballard had transcended. His burgeoning self-confidence tempered by the knowledge of his own self-worth. I envied it immensely. I was so used to feelings of inadequacy, within myself, that it was hard to realize Ballard was no longer on my level.

Wiccans went their separate ways, when they matriculated, stuffing each other down their respective rotas. It was down in the book. After the pa.s.sage on karma, there was the fact too many of us couldn't be together. We had to Hive. Break up. Split apart. I hoped I wasn't losing Ballard. If he had to stay, after all...

He was supposed to go with meto Pragueto the Districts of Magic.

I felt Prague, which was supposedly the Mecca of all Magic, call to me. Would I go there alone?

It felt like I needed to go there. It was where Magic was from, after all.

Perhaps my Virtue was I had no choice. After all, I was Marked (I almost wrote Marekd), and I was tired of hiding that fact.

Regardless that it writhed and twisted up my arm, my Wiccan Mark was set, was it not? I was the last and final Rookmaakerso Risky had said. Well, apart from Selwyn. Him I needed to rescue. I suddenly understood what Ballard had said about being so preoccupied with things. My head felt more full than normal.

Meanwhile, the Ravenseals were after me, and I still hadn't managed to begin looking into my parents' House. The knowledge that the Ravenseals had come to get me was mind-numbing. Why had they come down to Rome, if not to drag me back? This wasn't going away... And Gaven had shut them out. Why? Did he think they were in cahoots with the Hunter? Ballard had also instinctively called it that.

But then I realized who the Ravenseals were in cahoots with. The Master House. It was said they were recruiting Veruschka Ravenseal, The Master House. Although, I couldn't think why. I s.h.i.+vered.

...Halsey Ravenseal...

Even in my head it sounded like an evasion. Know thyself.

But who was I?

Pachelbel's Canon in D Major startedBallard and I had to hurry to our seats. Lia was in one of the tents waiting to come out. It was down a stretch of gra.s.s to the rows of seating, hundreds of figures taking their places, seated before a beautiful hand carved gazebowith intricate figures representing trees, carved into it, dripping Italian yellow jasmine and trumpets of honeysuckle, blooming, even in this mid-February.

There was something in the air. My fingertips tingled with it. What I guessed was the proximity of so many other mages.

As was customary, the witches and wizards had dressed in various-colored robes, with bright silver symbols s.h.i.+ning on them, and had outlandish hair. This is what some of the symbols looked like: I recognized them from the website I had seen. But I had questions, and no answers were forthcoming. It was like we were communing with something, all of us. Something pagan and primal, here in this get-together.

Ballard and I were seated several rows back and to the side of Ballard's mom, who was across the aisle from two older people I didn't recognize but could only be Mr. and Mrs. Overstreet, Gaven's parents.

Mrs. Overstreet had her handkerchief ready, while Mr. Overstreet (who had endowed Gaven with his incredible good looks) smiled on appreciatively, as his son stood waiting for his bride-to-be. I was pleased to note Gaven was in a tux. Some ceremonies superseded those of being a werewolf.

All too soon, the music lifted, s.h.i.+fting into The Bridal Chorus, and we all looked back as one. A collective gasp as the onlookers beheld Lia for the first time, being escorted down the aisle by her father, who placed her hand into Gaven'sher wedding dress was a trail of flowers and gems.

Gaven simply radiated triumph.

Lia's father took his seat next to Cyno and the nuptials began.

I was expecting the same old, same old. Which is ironic, since I'd never been to a wedding before. Instead of traditional wedding vows, however, Lia had prepared Wiccan ones.

When it came time to speak up, or forever hold our peace, Ballard cleared his throat, but whatever it was, he let it pa.s.s, and as no ex-flames for either party stepped forward, that was that. The minister announced that Gaven could kiss the bride. Which he did.

There were quite a few wolf whistlesand then just applause, glorious and prolonged, because Gaven and Lia were now husband and wife. "Let no man put asundernor werewolf neither!" said the minister, spitting out his n's.

It was about to get out of hand, as Mistress Genevieve would have said. A band had been called in. There were a lot of jumping and dancing children and adults. Gaven pulled off Lia's garter and she threw the bouquet. They weren't leaving yet, were they? I wanted to have a talk with them first. To tell Lia and Gaven to go to Tuscany, or the Caribbeanand not to worry about Rome. But I knew they wouldn't. I had never met two people so fastidious about responsibility.

Ballard shook off his shoes, and I watched him, to various whoops, moonwalk his way across the hot coals; they had built a firepit, I Gatti, outside the pomerium, the ancient protective border, which encircled the city, like a protective enchantment ringing Rome. Who was keeping control of things while the werewolves were away from Rome?

I had entrusted my motorcycle to the security of Trastevere. But it didn't look like there were any werewolves that could be there. They were all here! Volt and Pouch, two younger-looking ones were doing a raucous dance with several teenage girls, who cheered them on, before joining in with them exuberantly. Had they experienced the Calling, yet, any of them?

The band died; or was dragged off; and the fireworks started. Two warlocks, who had helped build the Gathering, let loose with a barrage of showstoppers. The guests all ooh'd and ahh'd. The warlocks were showing them their truespirits. Things got quickly out of hand. It was only then that I saw how afraid everyone was. The two wizards were dueling each other for whoever could produce the best pyrotechnical explosion. The rockets were being let off by their hands. Literally. Fireworks erupted from their W's like Wiccan bombardments. One Wiccan did this two-handed one which caused the sky to erupt in a blaze of violet stars and his hair to go all white. There was a chain reaction of explosions, culminating in a giant, ruby-encrusted heart, which floated above our heads, with a golden G & L written into it, for Gaven and Lia, that started burning in the center, like embers in a fire, drawing energy into it; and then, with a deafening explosion, which could be heard all around, dinner was served.

The guests were seated according to their proclivitieswhich meant I got put with several werepeoplebut also, a witch, a wizard, andGemma Moonflower. She was the first Initiate who had been Chosen at the Gathering. Harcort had taken her. They were a British coven of witches and wizards; a kord, as was more proper, of ros an buccans. I looked, before I could help myself, at Gemma Moonflower's Mark, only to find it covered over. When would this impulse to hide our true natures go away? I wondered.

I hadn't had a decent meal in weeks. There was everything and then some, including several foreign dishes, with exotic-sounding names, I had never seen before, including some which squiggled and leaped I a.s.sumed were must-haves for certain of Lia's and Gaven's more rapacious dinner guests. The facial hair in the throng was hirsute. I wondered if this was a werewolf thinglike Wiccans with their Marks? Was it written on a person what they would become? Just as the Hunter had seemed to transform, becoming who he really was?

I settled on a snow pea and arugula salad.

Determined to have my share of la dolce vita, I ordered also a rosso, red wine; and for the main courseI looked down the handwritten Italian menu: words like gnocchi, ragu, and antipasto jumped out at meI ordered the lip-smackingly-good-sounding semolina dumplings, with a side of porcini mushrooms, and dipping sauce. "Very eclectic," complimented my waiter, a werewolf, before pulling a face. I was too busy admiring Lia and Gaven to notice. They were sitting in the pavilion, at a raised table. I recognized Cyno, of course, and her husband, Jim, sitting with them, along with the Overstreets. Ballard was nowhere to be found.

Jim and Cyno had known Risky.

Somehow it felt like Risky was here with us, even though I knew that Risky was dead; that Risky and the Rookmaakers was a linked phrase, and I should learn itevery in and out, and subtle intricacy of their existences, which had been connected.

I took a sip of red wine and plopped a mushroom in my mouth. It wasn't so much the toast, which was causing me uneasiness, but the need to progress; like when I used to dream I had forgotten to do my homework, at school, and Mistress Genevieve would whack me. My appet.i.te was nil. Instead I had more rosso. Hic.

If all of these other people had managed to cross the border into Italy, how had the Hunter been denied...? With charms and spells?

Maybe Lia had helped.

Did she know any?

She had charmed Gaven, all right...

I realized there were no vampires presentthat the invitation extended to wizards and anthropomorphs only. Why?

I thought of Lennox, and if he would have been invited?

The vampires were at the Gathering too, I whined privately to myself.

I had not hallucinated Lennox in a while. Perhaps more wine.

I motioned to a waiter who poured me another gla.s.s of vino. It tasted excellent.

Gemma was in her own happy world, humming to herself while she ate. Table talk ranged from the G.o.d and G.o.ddess Wicca to Lupercus and The One. I heard the words nox, sangoma, quadrangle, and sneezeweed. Apparently that last one was for a Mark that was underdeveloped. That person was said to have sneezeweed for an arm. The Adept stay that way forever. Next was handfasting. "I thought that was interesting how they did their wedding vows," said a witch from an enclave in Bern. "Never quite heard it put that way before. How did it go?"

A wizard said, "'As long as love lasts,' Miraphora, dear, became, 'so long as our powers hold.' And 'till death do us part,' 'till my spirit leave me...'"

"Yes, that. Strange, if you ask me. They should bring back telltown marriages, or at least publish the bans; any sort of wishy-was.h.i.+ness, and I start looking for divorce lawyers. Hands in pockets should be your own, Artemis, don't you agree?"

"Eat your soup, Miraphora. They look happydon't jinx that."

"He's a werewolf," she said. "You know what that means, Artemis? Half-Lighters. It should be kept separate. My own Mistress, Goodiefeeder, always said so. 'Magic's magic,' she would say, 'and there's just no getting around that.' The cubs will have craft. You know full well, Wiccans and werewolves shouldn't mix... It's barking mad. Shh... let's hear what they have to say..."

"With pleasure." It was clear he desired a different seating arrangement. Gemma looked surprised when she heard words coming out of speakers, and saw a microphone being pa.s.sed around. "Goody!" she said.

"Is she not quite all there?" Miraphora whispered to me. But I didn't answer her. The toasts were about to begin.

Paolo, Gaven's best man, was first. "I always like these," said Miraphora, "especially when they're raunchy." She consumed her rosso double-quick and became all earsstraining for anything to condemn or ridicule. I questioned if anyone had actually invited her.

As for Paolo, who had lost the race, Ballard said something to me very interestingafter we had finished and he was proclaimed the victor. He was talking about life, and how it's a long race. "Not everyone's made themselves known yet," said Ballard. "Some people start out strong while others fade away. It's like life. You don't know until it's over, who won or lost. That's whythat's why I've been developing the idea of BSB."

BSB was this thing he had started going on about.

Bigger. Silenter. Bada.s.sesser.

"It all goes back to Locke," he said, "and his opinion about the new Head Wolf being chosen, instead of winning a race."

When he said it like that I thought about Wiccans being chosenit didn't seem fair.

"So why shouldn't Gaven nominate Paolo, do you see what I mean?" said Ballard. "Only, because Gaven didn't, it must've meant he saw something in Paolo he didn't like. Leastways that's what Locke said. There is that sense that Paolo was pa.s.sed over. That Gaven saw him as an inferior werewolf. A stigma which has carried forwardeven though the election never took place."

I think I understood what Ballard meant, finally. Letting me race was like the opposite of that. Gaven had shown faith in me. House Rookmaaker was bonded more to the Sons and Daughters of Romulus now because of it. I hated that the Sons and Daughters of Romulus were losing Gaven. Locke's power was also subtly reinforced by the fact that he could smear people. And if you didn't agree with him, he could bend your words.

Was being on the Quirinal lifelong? He didn't seem to have any term limits, whereas the winner of the race was for twelve months only. Politics, Halsey.

One thing Gaven had, and Ballard did also, was they looked so much more the part. Superficial, maybe. But wanting to follow somebody, you needed something in them to admire. Why not looks? There was no such admirableness in me or Locke.

Thought: If Rome was a two-headed monster, could it be a three? Had it been? With House Rookmaaker?

Paolo tapped his knife to the crystal goblet before him and the talk died down. A strange winging in my insides. Nerves galore.

"I have known Gaven and Lia all my life," he began. "We played together as small children. So I know why Gaven started shaving his hair. It was because of Lia. Usually it's the opposite. The boy pulls the girl's hair, and because of that, she doesn't like him anymore. Well Lia would pull his hair, and Gavenfive years olderwould sulk, and have a cry, and she would get the horsey chairwhich is what she was after. Instead of alienating him, however, Lia's attentions made Gaven fall in love with her. I have never seen two people who are more in love. He gets her, and she gets him. They click. I just hope their offspring take after the mom."

Paolo made an off-color joke, which had Miraphora nodding her approval.

"Gaven did find his cool, though, eventually. It just took twenty years, right, Gav? Seriously though, I wish you guys a lifetime of love. Here's to the bride and groom!"

Gaven's parents were chuckling; Mr. Rosen laughed uneasily, but Cyno mollified him with a pat on the hand. Paolo sat down and poured himself a drink.

Ballard took the mic. "Well, sis... You've just married a man who's grey-haired in his early thirties. You're not some kind of succubus, are you? Don't answer that. I love you and I am glad you're out of my house." I ended up drinking every toast. "To you and Gaven," said Ballard.

"Just love each other, I guess," I said, when it was my turn. It was almost time to farewell them.

Gemma and I noticed each other. She flashed me a dazzling smile. "Halseyblessed be!" she said. Which I returned with a flash of my own Wiccan W.

Lia and Gaven were making their way out to the lawn, where the moonlight was darkening, and the music was playing.

Someone was making a list of all the trees the party makers had imported. It was a moment before I realized who it was. Fanishwar Harcort. "That's firethorn, and, oh, look, a Prague viburnum! Who would think that in the Trnava, they would be given a run for their money? That's the Slovak Rome, dear. I see some yesterday-today-and-tomorrow, fleshy-flowered hearts-a-burstin'. The G is silent. That's possumhaw. And ninebark. Woof, woof...!" She did it all nine times. "Woof, woof, woof!"

I made my way through the a.s.semblage ("...bloodroot and heliotropes," following behind me), lost in an infinity of stars and meteor showers; there were some whoops that the fireworks show was about to begin again, but really it was just the heavens conspiring to bless Lia's wedding to Gavenwhen I heard a peculiar voice behind me, so unusual I had to stop to listen.

"piccan wotentials.h.i.+cwotential piccanspotential wiccans. There are two of them here, so I hear"

"What about Lia?"

"Who? My cousin? She doesn't count," said the voice. Hic.

I crept closer.

"Who are you, anyway?" she continued, in her bossy voice. There was a musicality to it.

"Me? I'm n.o.body."

I peeked from behind the Prague viburnum.

Emma Skarborough took another sip from her champagne flute. I would recognize her anywhere. "'To LiaFor helping me out of paper bags; and for showing me that they were paper bags.' Preposterous toast. Who thanks their wife during a wedding? Silly boy."

"So you don't think their love will last?"

"How can it? She's a witch. He's nothing. Not anymore. I give it six months. Especially with this predator out there. Grigori. You know what they are."

"No. Tell me."

"That was Rasputin's name. Grigori Rasputin. He was one of them too. Hairy face." She pulled her hand down over her chin, indicating a beard.

"But what are Grigori?"

"Hunters, dear. Holed up in Prague, somewhere. Very dangerous. Their roots aren't in lycanthropy, although that is a common misconception. It's in witchcraft their power lies. The Grigori used to be right there with the watchers and the protettoriUntil he came..."