Neophyte / Adept (24 page)

When I held the matchbook over the candle, prepared to
remove a match to light it––

The candle ignited. It was like a tiny light going on.
My
tiny light.

I had just done magic without meaning to. Lit a taper.

Surprised, I dropped the matchbook, and then leaned closer.
The candle flame hissed quite happily and then I blew it out. A curl of black
smoke drew up, I could see it from the faint light which filtered into our
dormitory.

Nervous and excited, I drew forward once more, on my hands
and knees, and––holding my breath––held up a single
fingertip above the candle wick. It popped on
again
. I was suddenly overwhelmed with a rush of emotions.
I could turn on lights! But that would
mean...

I took the candle with the flame in it, in my off hand, and
trailed it along the place––the alleged place, I had to remind
myself––where my Wiccan W should have been––all along
the fingertips, and then up my arm, to my delta, the Wiccan magic spot, where
the aether was said to flow, from the crook of my elbow. But, if it flowed
out
of me, perhaps the aether
was the dark aether?

There, at the crook in my elbow, was the teensy tinsiest
knotwork of magical veins, which meant that I could not go to a non-magical
blood drive ever ever again.

My delta.

My magic.

It was really there.

I blew out my candle and fell back on my bed.

The creature reappeared again. Its eyes, so
dangerous-looking, shined from out of the darkness. But I had fire now. An élan
that was super-Wiccan and all me; it didn’t dare come any closer. I had magic,
now.

It was only later that I woke up and imagined that it had
all been a dream––but there it was, my Mark was shining.

* * *

We were approaching the middle of December; I would be
eighteen years old in one week’s time, but I couldn’t think about my birthday
right now. Lux was pushing us harder than ever before.

“You have to master this. Cull forward your magic,” he said.

But the other Initiates and I got that constipated look on
our faces again. We couldn’t do what he wanted us to.

“It hurts... I can’t do it...
ow
,” complained Shaharizan. She looked at Lux mutinously.

“I have to get you ready,” he said.

“But why?” we all complained. “What’s going on? Is something
coming up?”

Bad choice of words. I had been straining so hard I almost
vomited. (“Soon it will appear almost effortlessly,” he said.) I didn’t want it
to. I drew back from the magic. It was not more second nature than going to the
moon, and twice as hard; but I at least recognized it, when I saw it, the good
and bad aether... I looked surreptitiously at my fingertips. The index had a
faint silvery swirl––intricate and fascinating.
Like me.

I gave myself a little pep talk.
Now you must hone your craft, Halsey
, I told myself. Lux cleared
his throat.

“This is recruit week,” he said. “You all know that. Which
means that you should all have received your brochures by now. Tomorrow,” but
we moaned again. “Tomorrow is the first day of the Wiccan Draft. It is the
opportunity the Houses have all been waiting for. Right now, they’re going back
and forth between each other over who will get to select you first; which is
really what they’ve all been up to since the beginning. I know what you’re
thinking. That you were all supposed to have had a choice, some say. Later
Halsey. The fact is, this Gathering has seen––for lack of a better
word––into each and every one of you. Now it’s only the Houses that
are left jockeying for who will draw first.”

“You mean we are just going to be
chosen
?” interrupted somebody.

“It does us no good if you go to the wrong place,” said Lux.
“Just as it does them no good. Who better to decide that than the Houses. They
will know which of you will fit in with each House?”

“But what if no one picks us?” Lizette said.

“What if we get stuck in the Hopper?” said Astra.

Lux addressed the Initiates’ queries. “That is why each of
you will be required to present yourselves, one last time,” he assured us, “for
evaluation purposes only. You needn’t worry...”

There were boos; they drowned him out.

“I can’t go through that again,” said one.

“It isn’t fair,” said another.

“They already saw. Why do they have to look again?” said
Lia.

“The decision process,” said Lux, “is difficult this year,
owing to the fact that there are so many of you.”

“Only thirteen,” said Badgley. “How many Houses are there,
anyway?”

“It’s not that simple,” said Lux. Why did I get the feeling
like he wasn’t telling us everything? “Some are negotiating for higher spots.
While others, others are looking at auctioning their markers to the highest
bidder, whichever House is willing to give up the most for you. Which is why
it’s a good thing to go with them, when they do choose you, because you’ll be
going to a House that really wants you,” he said.

I looked at him like it was rubbish.

Vittoria was looking around, all very blasé. She neither
exclaimed nor objected––to any of it.

Lux gripped his arm at the delta. “Enough! You will all have
a chance to exhibit, which, after all, is the point. Without you being educated
by an esteemed and certified Wiccan Household––well, you don’t want
that traumatization, believe me.”

“That’s why you showed us Asher,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“Asher,” I said. “He’s an
eclectic
supernatural. Self-educated,” I said as derogatorily as I
could muster. “And you saw,” I said, speaking to the rest of them, “what he was
treated like. Nobody trusted him. In fact, they all feared him. But they were
willing to use him, weren’t they, to get what they wanted?”

“There are benefits to being educated classically, through
one of the
schools
,” said Lux. “Among
them is respect. If you encounter a third-degree from one of the Houses, you’ll
think twice about dueling with him––for he will know what you will
know, unless you sabotage your chances of being recruited by a House, simply
because you were too stubborn to exist in a world which is imperfect.”

Lux’s speech was working on them...

He was showing them what they stood to lose.

“You said that we were important,” I said. “You said that we
mattered.” I couldn’t help it; I was shaking as I spoke. “You said that if it
weren’t for us, none of them would
be
here.”

“Halsey, think about what you’re saying,” he said.

“I am, Professor.”

“Don’t talk yourself into something that you can’t take
back,” said Lux. “That isn’t a threat. I am your friend.”

Vittoria smiled at me. It was that, more than anything, that
got me.

“I will finish up with the selection process,” I said, “or
the
draft
, as you call
it––if for no other reason than to see; but I don’t like what I
see; and I do
not
agree with it,
Professor. And I certainly––I certainly won’t be a part of it.”

He called me back, but it was too late; I had gone. Lia
caught up with me. “Do you know what you’re doing?” she said. We were departing
the sandpit. Lia wasn’t angry with me, was she? If anything, she looked
impressed.

“Why are
you
beaming?” I said.

“Because
... you
just stuck it to a third-degree badass from the House of
Houses––except for the Master House,” she said.

“There is no master House, Lia. And he isn’t that bad. Do
you know? I feel reckless. What’s the Wiccan virtue for not giving a damn?”

“I don’t think there is one,” said Lia, who looked at me,
admiringly. “Do you think he’ll tell? You know––
them
? The delegates from each of the
Houses? About you? That you might be a bad seed?”

I shook my head. “It isn’t his style––if you’ll
forgive the pun. But Vittoria will. Ravenseal must hold the first marker. I
looked at her face,” I said to Lia. “They’ll choose Vittoria with their number
one pick. If the other Houses reject me, so be it. I
’
ll
go it alone. I always have. Come on.”

* * *

I wished, for the first time in a long time, that I had
Ballard back as a friend. I was getting tired of our cold war. Whenever we
passed each other in the halls he pretended to be engaged in conversation with
someone else. It was a wonder he didn’t bump into everything. But then I realized
that he didn’t want anything to have to do with me. The same with the rest of
the werewolves, who kept themselves to themselves, even when the Gathering
seemed to be taking on new life.

For one thing, there were a bunch more people at mealtimes.
I reckoned the Houses had all sent their delegates. For another, those I hadn’t
seen in a while––including the three chief
mistresses––were making their reappearances. So everybody must’ve
been excited for this selection process.

All day I had been reliving the confrontation with Lux, in
the sandpit earlier that morning. At times I would think I had been a fool; at
others, I would
know
I had been.

I wondered if it was too late to take it back. And then, if
I really wanted to? Very rarely did I come off looking well, when I replayed
the scenario in my head.

Yet, it
felt
right; and that was important to me.

Still, the consequences were disheartening.

The other Initiates were avoiding Lia and I. She had come
with me, you see, and now she was being ostracized as well.

I imagined us in some lonely one-star hotel, bent over a
hotplate, with the fingers missing from our gloves. Lia passing me a can of
beans. It was clear that our Marks had not fully formed, in these visions. We
had the stubs of Marks, and our beans were getting cold.

At other times, I imagined the two of us, leading some great
revolution. I seemed to be carrying a flag, the Stars and Stripes, which
must’ve meant that on some level I wasn’t over my homesickness yet. We were
leading the Initiates to freedom. All except for Vittoria, who I didn’t give a
crap about. But these visions wouldn’t last very long; and, before I knew it, I
felt like a fool again.

Halsey, you dope. You
moron dope. You big stupid moron dope
, I said to myself. I was good at
berating myself.

But that would pass too...

I said that thing you say about not being able to change the
things that you can’t change, and to be at peace, and stuff, and I just let go.
What would be, would be, I guessed. It was up to me to make a place that being
me would be enough. I was going to be happy. Sooner or later, the rest would
sort itself out.

“What will I do
without a House?”
I wrote in my diary. It didn’t respond back.

Chapter 22
– Houses

“Your name is the most important identifier you possess. All
coven members’ surnames––Harcort,” said Fanishwar Harcort
“––Coven, Ravenseal, and so on. ” She inclined her head to each of
the mistresses.
“All
are hive names,
because all covens hived. That’s how we came to be. Over-numbered covens
split
by hive.” The rest of the
twitterers agreed. This time, I could see them, ranged up in the stands; crags
of rock hid their bodies for the most part. But there were the jewel-bright
heads of hair and the flashing gowns with the runic symbols; it made me think
of the website I had seen and the symbols which tumbled down from it like
snowflakes. But if I were to become adept, and then, potentially,
fledged––if that was to be my lot in life––I would have
to concentrate on my magic, and give up things like YouTube and video games.
Still, it would be nice to get on my laptop, a high-powered Mac I carried with
me everywhere I went. I wasn’t finished investigating the rest of the Wiccans
by a long shot. The truth was that when you took on a name like House Harcort,
that House, that lifestyle, was supposed to become your life, to the exclusion
of everything else. Almost, as I looked at Lia, as if you married into
ancientry, into legend, and history. Into a proscribed way of doing things.

There was a bit of steel to Lia. I could see it after having
cracked her friendship barrier. I think we are guilty sometimes of
underestimating our friends. We put them into nice little boxes and get upset
when they crawl back out of them.
You go
here, friend, and stay put––or else...

Fanishwar Harcort kept going on and on about our duty to our
Houses.

The eyes of the watchers flashed upon the other Initiates
and I. We were in our black hooded robes. I kept my head down, for the most
part, and my fledgling Wiccan Mark carefully hidden. To Lia I had shown it and
she exclaimed with rapture: “It’s almost like we’re sisters now. Your secret’s
safe with me,” she said, and winked.

Here we were.

Someone was missing from the proceedings. I could see
Pendderwenn, his pale and clammy skin anxious as ever; he nodded to me briefly
and I smiled at him, but I made sure to look away real fast. What if he held
my
marker? It was too much to think
about.

Maria Lenoir. Her dark eyes were as inscrutable as ever.
Asher, I noticed, was missing from her retinue, but her consort, as I supposed
him to be, Pier Alexander, conversed good-naturedly with her, and I remembered,
in Lennox’s dream, that apparently Maria had assumed––no,
usurped––power, as it appeared she had killed the Vampire King. One
of those things it was better not to let anyone else know I knew about. She
inclined her head to me, and
I
winked
back. Maria smirked and turned her head away. Something I didn’t understand was
how a vampire could hold a marker to a Wiccan. Were Initiates expected to go
with them––for real––and to learn to suck blood?

Fanishwar, happily, was wrapping up her big to-do.

“Please, bear in mind, that if you
are
selected by our esteemed colleagues, the Lenoir, or wolf in
mind, The Sons and Daughters of Romulus––” she said...
Again, no ailuranthropes
; Asher was
right about that. They weren’t so much underrepresented as not represented at
all. “––The covenant holds that you receive your magical education
from a House of their choosing, and remain a friend to them, either the Lenoir
or the werewolves, for the remainder of your life and the afterlife. For they
hold your
marker
.”

She held it up; it was red as blood.

“And if
war should
renew itself––” she said.

Hisses and whispers of
no,
impossible, that will never happen, we are friends now.

“Then
that
House,
that
House, will be your House, and for
that House, you shall fight; the ties that bind are many and complex. Blood and
love. Love and blood,” she said.

“Love and blood,” they all repeated.

“A Wiccan in with vampires brings Wicca into their House. A
vampire choosing a Wiccan and their school, acknowledges Wicca and the power of
that school. And a Wiccan ‘raised’ by vampires, for want of a better word,
respects those vampires, and will bear their messages, true and faithfully,
into any House they travel. We bind ourselves with blood.”

“With blood.”

“Let our gathering renew our love––and prevent
any ill-will. For what happened, happened. It was nobody’s fault.”

They bowed their heads.

Fanishwar Harcort stepped down from the podium, and I looked
at Maria Lenoir, there, where Fanishwar returned to the judges’ table; she had
an enigmatic look upon her face as though she had stolen into the Louvre and
ate the Mona Lisa. Veruschka next.

“Ahem. Thank you for that, Mistress,” she said.

Fanishwar bowed her head; I suddenly realized who wasn’t
here. Selwyn. He was off, I didn’t know where.

“Mistresses, this is a special Gathering,” said Veruschka
Ravenseal. “The first in a quarter century.” Her voice boomed out across the
Star Room. I noticed as she spoke lights pop on, which were held in the palms
of the watching crowd. “Thirteen markers were sent out. Is she here with us,
the One? We do not know. Probably. Maybe. Who knows? We do not know that she is
not. For all we know, she might be. For all we know is that it was foretold.
It’s as simple as that. Twenty-five years after the ending of the First War, we
gathered; and then twenty-five years after that. And after that. And after
that. From 1887 until now––
we
gather. She
is the Chosen of the Chosen; the One Among the Many. And she is
either here with us or she is not. But we gather to find out.”

Murmurs. More rustling of robes. I looked nervously around
at all of the other Initiates.

“You hold your markers,” said Veruschka Ravenseal. “For five
Gathering’s-worth, sixty-one have been sent out; and they have been bartered
and traded and on and on. Is it guesswork or do you know something
More
?”

The lights died––and from overhead––
starlight
. It gathered and intensified
onto each Initiate, one by one. Veruschka was doing it with her Wiccan Mark.

“Nora Blackknight,” said Veruschka Ravenseal. She was
reading from her note cards. “A powerful potential. Beside her, Miss Larissa
Nightbloom. My, we do have a preponderance of darknights. Miss Badgley Darknight,
a shy, inquisitive girl, who makes up for this dichotomy by asking questions, a
lot. Not so shy, after all, are we? Azura. She comes from the Ravenscroft
family. They went extinct. Perhaps she’s back to reclaim what was wrongfully
taken from her. Good luck, Miss Ravenscroft. Perhaps you’ll get a new name yet.
Two P’s. Padget and Pilar. Both from non-magic roots, as are Astra, Lizette,
and Shaharizan. Their last names don’t matter. What’s in a name is Wiccan,
after all. Perhaps they’ll make new futures––and powerful ones,
depending on who selects them. Next is Gemma Moonflower. An odd girl, not much
is known of her. One day maybe she’ll finally speak. And, yes, there’s Lia.
Halsey Rookmaaker is the final––and thirteenth––witch.
An American. You take your chances with one of them. She’s apt to anger quite
quickly. But our readers assure us, there’s more to her story than what we
know. Can you find it?”

It was hard not to blush with the spotlight on me. And I
thought what they read about us was supposed to remain secret! It was hard not
to feel like a piece of human meat. A lapse had occurred. The twitters up in
the stands were intense. With the light on me, I couldn’t see them. It leapt to
the next girl beside me.

Veruschka had to apologize. “I forgot one,” she said.
Vittoria stood there humiliated. “Vittoria––she doesn’t have a last
name,” said Veruschka.

That was it; the Initiates were accounted for. All of them.
The Star Room erupted in applause.

Vittoria’s heavily-lidded eyes were inscrutable; feignwork
to hide the hurt and anger of being looked over by her own House, I
guessed–– But
was
Vittoria destined for Ravenseal? Was it to be her Magic House?

Perhaps Ravenseal had passed. Maybe they were waiting for
another Gathering. Twenty-five years from now. In that sense, we had
all
been passed over.

The act itself didn’t bother me; and it was hard to feel
sorry for Vittoria––she had treated too many of us like that
before. It was the insult I couldn’t abide. The First House was up. The First
Marker.

“With the
first
pick,” said Veruschka Ravenseal, to various chuckles, holding the red marker
with the name written upon it, both of the House and the Initiate it had
chosen, “House Harcort selects Gemma Moonflower.”

At the name
Harcort
,
Vittoria had flinched, infinitesimally, as if she had received a great shock
and was trying to conceal it. She hadn’t been chosen first––as we
all thought Vittoria would be. Gemma Moonflower had been.

It became obvious almost immediately that something was
going on. Fanishwar, pleased with her new acquisition, greeted Gemma
Moonflower, who actually opened her mouth to speak (“I’ve always wanted to see
Piccadilly,” she said) and bowed to Veruschka Ravenseal who returned the
courtesy.

Had Ravenseal traded its marker to House Harcort for some
future consideration?

Vittoria did that tisk thing again. But this time it was
like she couldn’t believe it. “You don’t know who I am,” she said underneath
her breath. “I’ll show you.”

“Ladies...” Lux looked at me;
hold your tongues
, he seemed to say. I got upset with him, right
there––but I refrained from speaking.

Lia looked sideways at me. Something was going on in her
head, nerves, perhaps. She was standing on one foot, then the other. Something
I had seen Ballard do before. He was up in the stands with the rest of them.
Gaven was still Head Wolf, was he not? And as such, had a seat at the table in
front of us. Whether or not he held a marker was anyone’s guess, he had never
said. Harcort took Gemma Moonflower and the clapping died down.

Lux had said something about another
reading––them potentially wanting to look into our minds again. It
happened. Shaharizan was called into a back room. Several minutes elapsed.
Then, Veruschka Ravenseal stood at the podium, to announce that Shaharizan had
been taken as the second pick. There was a tremendous round of applause. It was
by a House I had never heard of before.

Shaharizan became a twelfth, it was announced, something
which was held in great esteem.

“Imagine selecting
her
as your last member,” said Vittoria scathingly; I knew how she felt. We had
slipped further down the rung, she and I; we had not been chosen first or
second.

I looked at Pendderwenn, who was sweating––I
suddenly realized––
he held a
marker
––and he wanted...
me
...

Two Initiates had already been chosen; obviously, if he
didn’t get to me first...

Could another House be interested in me?

It truly was out of my hands.

“With the third pick––oh, this is interesting...
With picks three
and
four, the House
of Peril selects Pilar and Padget. The two P’s.”

Perfunctory clapping, my first whang of concern. That was
four down! Had they read something in me they did not like? The Houses were
picking the Initiates not based on how we felt about ourselves. Vittoria
certainly would have been chosen first. She was clearly the most powerful. And
I ranked fairly highly, if we were going based upon how we felt about each
other. No. They were picking us based on our merits. Of which Vittoria and I
seemed not to have any.

She had stopped tisking, Vittoria, and was now folding her
arms in her robes. I saw her three digits. The fingertips were etched in
onyx-hued minute lines. She caught me staring at them. “I bet you’d love to
look; to see my Wiccan Mark,” said Vittoria. “I can’t believe those idiots have
been selected over me. Even
you
would’ve been better. Mind you, that isn’t saying much.”

“Ravenseal gave their marker away,” I said. “They must have.
They only have one spot, you see. They probably wanted to use it on somebody
who’s a sure thing.”

“And you think I’m not? I may not be
her
, but I am badass,” said Vittoria, and threw her hair in my
face.

I had to give it to her. Her confidence was unshakeable. I
admired it greatly. “If you say so,” I said.

“Four down. Nine to go,” said Veruschka Ravenseal. “Again, I
should take the time to remind those Initiates who may be wondering if they are
to be chosen, there is more at stake here than just this ‘Mythic Chick’, as I
have heard her referred to before.” She looked at me. “Some Houses simply want
people who are
good for them
. It is
their fortune to hold markers in whatever order. Do you understand?”

Pendderwenn gulped––and stared at me. He was
giving me the heebie-jeebies.

That was blather, what Veruschka had said, and we all knew
it. Everyone, each House, wanted the One. So did House Ravenseal.

I must’ve not been her. Besides, I wasn’t even from here. I
was from New England. Well, not originally, but for all intents and purposes. I
was a carpetbagger. Somebody who went from one place to another for some quick
benefit. I didn’t know that’s what I had been doing––but I had
been. I wanted to be selected as badly as the rest of them.

Being chosen stung, because you had to subject yourself to
not being chosen. And to not being the Chosen One.

Let’s face it, I told myself, there’re only nine of us
remaining––
in the whole of
Europe, for the next twenty-five years.
And then we would have
had
our time, the Initiates and I. We
would be passed over for new people. New Wiccans. Younger and more powerful.