"But him I want to know about. I've been reading about him," said Vittoria.

"I can't think where," said Skarborough. "That's forbidden. Something happened to Lenoir. What was his first name again? Oh right. Mercaccio."

"So Lenoir was a man?"

"Yes, he was a man. A wizard, in point of fact. The worst. This is something not even the Lenoir like to admit.

"But"

"Magic split, remember, dear? You've seen the symbols. You know what they mean.Vittoria was hanging on her every word. Her long, corvus-colored hair, slicked down, like two sheer waterfalls, highlighting heavily-mascaraed eyes.

"You to your corner, we to ours. To Paristhe vampire; and to Romethe wolves... my dear famiglia; but to Prague," said Emma, "magic kept. And the old war was ended. But not before He changed everything. Oh yes, He changed it all. Some of us think it is just a timeout, a respite, if you will, a rest between perils; and that this THING is the first sign of... darker days...

"Indeed, the Dark Order is rising again... in Prague; or is very nearly risen. Avoid that place! AVOID IT! I say. For those who do not stay away must get sucked up in it. And the Last Warwill be the beginningof the middleof the end. I need a refresher."

Vittoria was left standing there; I hid behind the viburnum before she could see me. GrigoriRasputina man called Lenoir?

Before Skarborough left, she said, "It's apt, don't you think? Lenoir's name being Italianthe first one. There'll be a second. Oh yes. There will be."

"But what about this One?" said Vittoria. "The Chosen Onewaitcome back"

"It was foretold. It's that simple," said Skarborough, who suddenly realized she had found an attentive audience. "They call her The One and have a private name for hersuch names being tremendously powerful, and susceptible to dark magic. But you need a Mark. And you don't seem to have oneunless you're keeping it hidden from me. You're not, are you?"

"But what they? Who calls her The One?"

"My drink; I need my drink."

"And who are the protettori?" Vittoria called after her.

Tipsy, Emma wobbled away. I left. Ballard found me wandering on my own. I think I was in a daze. What was going on? One thing was certain. I knew now what Vittoria had been up to, and what she was after. She was trying to find out more about 'this One', and the secrets to being the Wiccan Prime Mover. Which is what I should've been doing.

But she couldn't be, could she? I mean, that was the one thing that was given, not earned? Oneness. No matter how hard you wanted it, it couldn't just be taken, could it?

Or could it?

Gaven and Lia were about to head off. It was about that Ballard wished to speak with me.

Chapter 7 Grey Wolf.

Everyone met to farewell Gaven and Lia, pelting them with rice and last wishes. "May you have many happy new moons together," they said.

Ballard, meanwhile, dragged me back to my viburnum. A tall and beautiful tree, it was overshadowed by only one other in this story.

I tried shushing him but he was adamant. "What... is it, Ballard?" I said. I managed to catch a glimpse of the bride and groom, as they departed the reception, on their new matching motorcycles. Good luck, you two, I whispered. Miraphora's jinx would have no lasting repercussions, I hoped. Only Ballard was antsy, and he started pacing, always a danger sign.

I had other things to worry about: Like the fact Vittoria was becoming fledged faster than I was. Somehow I didn't think the Wiccan Prime Mover would have any difficulties pa.s.sing from neophyte to adept.

As for male Wiccans, and especially wizards my own age, I had never really met any of them. If I opened House Rookmaaker, I would probably be training with some of them. Which would be an awkward situation. A Mistressmebut without any formal education... Instructing all of them.

First, Ballard's problems... I would worry about my own when I got there.

"You wanted?" I said.

"Guess who I just spoke with?" he said. He seemed elated about it.

"Who?" I asked.

"My sister," said Ballard. "Guess what she just said?"

"What?"

"She and Gaven are not going on their honeymoon!"

Ballard fought with some inner struggle. The burning rush had come over my Mark again. It felt like it was on fire. Maybe that was my proclivity? I stifled the gasp, which longed to escape from my lips, biting back the pain.

"Well, that's justI mean So?" I said.

"So. Now I can go with you, silly!"

"You couldn't have before?" I asked.

"Rome," he said, "cannot be free of my bloodline. It's very complicated."

"What about your mother and father? Or, I know, Sandor and Septimus?"

"My parents are leavingthey're headed back to Greece. As for the twins We could use them," said Ballard, "but they don't like to get involved. 'We're arcane scholars. Tell us when there's a fightthen we'll be ready...'"

"But I thought they couldn't shift?" I said.

"Their prowess lies elsewhere," said Ballard. "How long do you think we'll be gone, anyway, when we leave?"

We could go tomorrow, today, this very minute, I told him. And then I could rescue Selwyn.

"It'll be two weeks, at least," I said.

His face fell. "So long?"

"Ballard... Are you sure you really want to go with me? Prague'll be dangerous."

It hit me that I might be leading my friend into danger.

"You can stay behind, if you want. But I have to know," I said. Which was perfectly true.

I had seen Ballard bend steelleap to humanly impossible heights. But where we were going, the other side had powers as well. I understood now that there was an Other Side. That otherkin cultures encompa.s.sed more than just Rome. There were the Grigori, for one thingto speak nothing of the Benandanti.

I didn't realize how cold it was. Ripples of heat came off Ballard.

Mistress Genevieve's words came back to me, about recklessness.

"Tomorrow... we'll leave tomorrow..." I said.

But it would mean planning, leaving people behind.

"How will we get there?" said Ballard.

"Our motorcycles, obviously."

He nodded, folding his arms. He was my protettore, my protector, my defender. I seemed to foresee great danger lying ahead for us, hope, hope. But we could overcome that, could we not? "I am just a Neophyte," I said, practically to myself.

"You'll have me," said Ballard. "I'll protect you."

"Maybe you're like my Risky," I said.

There was the sense that the evening was ended. I and Ballard were leavingwe were going to find whatever there was to find.

I played a kind of game, there in my head, making a list of all the things I wanted to find out. Foremost was the Rookmaakers: Who had killed them, and why? Then about Risky, and what his deal had been; and, okay, if it meant learning magic, so be it. Anything to make me a better spellcaster. Given the dreams I was having, the fact Ravenseal had tried to grab me, I was being dragged into a world far older than I could possibly imagine. There were new names coming up. Ballard was right. The players had not all made themselves known yet. There were others out there. And whether they were like me or not, whether they liked me or not, there was something I had to doand Ballard had to do. Risky had set us a mission. We were bound to it as the werewolves were to Rome.

"Won't Locke and the others be upset you're leaving them?" I asked. "You are still Il Gatto, after all."

"What good is being Head Wolf," said Ballard, "if you can't act like it?"

I was worried that leaving Rome would cause him undo problems.

It was only then I noticed Vittoria staring at me across the way. It gave me the heebie-jeebies.

"What is Vittoria doing here, Ballard?" I said.

"I invited her. Why? She's actually quite nice, you know."

I, at least, had hidden, while I eavesdropped on her. She gave me the Wiccan W, which in Vittoria's mind meant something else.

"No reason," I said.

Did she know I was going to Prague? I suddenly found myself fighting the tingling sensation in my fingertips. Did I want to duel Vittoria? I huffed and Ballard dropped it.

You just don't like that she's special and you're not, I told myself, viciously.

Sandor and Septimus walked by, engaged in an argument about Gaelic symbology, "It's under your nose," said Septimus.

"It's not."

"It is, little brother, and over your head." (Sandor being noticeably shorter than his sibling.) When I looked for Vittoria, she had gone.

"I'll meet you tomorrow. Okay? At your place..." I said to Ballard.

He got all dreamy-eyed: "My place," he said.

"And then we're leaving Rome," I said.

As for Vittoria, if she wanted me, she knew where to find me.

Still images flashed across my dreams that night of the Master House, then various shots of different alleyways. A pair of watchful, dark eyes were following me... Vittoria's, but worse...

It was out there, waiting for us. To what, attack me? I was foolishly rushing toward the Hunter.

What other option did I have? I needed to carry on with what I had started, namely the continuation of my magical education, because as much as I wanted to know, Ballard needed to know.

What had Risky meant for us to find out?

I could hear Ballard now: "I'm different. I know I am." Only, he thought it was a problem, whereas I was inclined to think more along the lines of its having been meant to be.

After all, he was the youngest Head Wolf in history, one of the Four. His skills were definitely meant to protect me. But from what?

He should be awesome, shouldn't he? BSB. Bigger. Silenter. Bada.s.sesser. He had shown early. Why? And why did he seem so superior to any other werewolf I had ever known, including Gaven?

I could hear Ballard now: "I'm not bada.s.s. I'm not special."

It didn't make sense; but when had anything? The only reason I had decided to go was because the werewolf had said the vampire and she were headed to Prague. Not Ballard and she. The vampire and she. This thing was obviously hunting somebodybut not me.

I slept late. Even though Ballard and I were rested, it meant, unfortunately, that we were on a night schedule. "I don't want to get lost," I said. We were at his place.

That was anther thing... My time in the EU was up. I would have to go back to the United States real soon. It had been ninety days... Twice thatthree times... My visa had run out... What if we got stopped?

Ballard told me not to worry about it. "We'll fix that, eventually," he said, referring to my visa. "Something good about connections: As Head Wolf, I have some. Until then, we'll take the Back Way."

He winked at me. We were getting ready to depart.

What was this Back Way, and how did we find it? He showed me the map.

"I had it laminated," he said, pulling it out, "in case it rains." On it was our route. The map showed a zigzagging line, through Italy, and then over the Alps, through wild country. It was only then we started making our way East, through Austria, Slovakia, and the Czech Republic. A giant golden star showed Prague. I got gooseb.u.mps just looking at it.

"Where's your stuff?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "I want to go light," I said, but he shook his head.

"That'll never do," he said.

He explained to me about the wild and how being prepared was our only option. It was like the old Ballard, ill.u.s.trating, diagramming... If the Wolves ever got in a fight, at least they'd be prepared.