A few days had pa.s.sed, in which I did not think about leaving, though, quietly, I had been preparing myself for the ordeal, mentally more than anything. The rundown mansion on the outskirts of Rome had become a refuge of sorts, since seeing it, a home I wished were mine, instead of Stromovka. I thought of it often. Absently I wandered its willow trees, wondering what had happened to the old place, and if I would ever get to it. It was like a House of my mindimaginary, but for the prospect of finding it. The weeds, which had overgrown the old place, cut out the light.

The emptiness of it! The solitude of House Rookmaaker! I was entering a new phase. I didn't know where I was going to! Whom I should meet? What obstacles would be overcome?

Suddenly, my emotions got the better of me. I wished I could remain here forever. But then another feeling intruded. I didn't know what to call it, either destiny or purpose. I had terrible things to do, I knew that now. I had been selected. For what, I did not know.

A bitterness ate at my heart. What would I not give to have some of the answers that I sought? And who would I not confront, to know what had been done to me? And what I had to do?

Then, there was this pursuer, whoever he was, this creature, Rayven. A wizard and a shifter. Part of me wanted to go looking for him, to lay a trap, perhaps, finding out what he knew. He must know something, I thought.

The ring was on my finger. My Harm None ring. I had not removed it since Lia told me to put it on. "Do you know the secret?" I asked of it.

The ring did not respond. It was not magical, per se. Important, yes, but the article in itself did not give its wearer special attributes, unlike, say, the tridents my old Styles Master Lux had worn. He needed those tridents, otherwise he couldn't craft. And I thought about that. It was an altogether mysterious and unnerving object, the Harm None ring, especially as the Wiccan Redean oath I had takensuggested that evildoers should be punished elevenfold. Would be. Or perhaps they could escape? The crimes against my family were monstrous, but who had perpetrated them? The necromancer I fought against? Was he this master Rayven had spoken to? And, if so, and my parents had been unable to defeat him, could I? They were adults, after all. Fledged. Educated in the ways of Wicca. I was not. In fact, judging by my circ.u.mstances, and the destroyed nature of House Rookmaaker, I was well on my way to becoming an eclectica magical outcast with rudimentary-to-no real-world skill. My-world skill was in thinking. Big lot of good that will do, I thought, wondering about words like wheelhouse and skill set, and if I had them.

One bright spot, and it made me feel better: Knowing a magic spell, I had been able to perform it, twice now. Stormr hamrinum. The fire spell. Once, when I nearly killed Blunt and Giorgioand again, when Ballard was healed, presumably.

He had been ill so long I had begun to think I had done more harm than good. The only thing holding me back from going to Prague was Ballard, and the fact we had begun this journey together. Somehow, I felt, I needed him with me, should I continue to the Districts of Magic, that place that was like a beacon to me, daring me to find it.

As for the ring, it was a part of me now. Had always been. Would always be. It spoke to something larger than myself: What had been done to my parents... The crimes against them....

Harm None. It was the Wiccan Rede in a nutsh.e.l.l. The golden rule. I could remember reciting the Wiccan Rede verbatim. Remembr, I said to myself, working a magic that was already in-built.

"IDo Solemnly SwearI had saidThat I will not use my Powers [plural], for any wrongdoing, unless I am prepared to have that wrongdoing visited upon me elevenfold...."

It was the same oath that all non-initiated Neophytes swore before being indoctrinatedincluding, I presumed, Lenoir himself!

Was there karma? Was there divine retribution? Could I have justice? Both for my parents and their Wiccan House and for me? I swore to myself, there in the Stromovka, that I would see my House rebuilt. It was my birthright. I would not rest until itand everything elsewas put to rights. Until I stood on its groundsand saw itand Kneweverything.

It would be important, if Ballard and I were to continue, to have the utmost confidence in each other's instincts and abilities. Mine for his was of the highest regard; but what was his for mine? There was craftiness in Ballard, I imagined age would hone, until it would become like second nature in him to perform feats of daring. As for my own abilities, who knew? So far they had proven themselves to be quite lackl.u.s.ter. There was no way, I thought, that I could be the Wiccan Prime Mover, if I could not excel at magic. And then I thought, who really is the Prime Mover? The Super b.i.t.c.h? That seemed like an important question to have answered. One that had been scratched, but not sufficiently punctured.

What could she do, and why could she do it?

Holding the ring up to the light of the rising sun I saw it glow there like firea magic firethe one which burnt within me. Could I kill who had done these great wrongs to my family? Would I? The triskele engraved on my ring danced in my eyes. The triskele could represent all kinds of things. They used it in recycling . Three different arrows pointing in the same direction, like an ouroboros eating itself. Something out of nothing. Or the new from the old. I decided the triskele, which was much simpler, as it appeared on my ring, and looked like this represented my mission, and that the ring was a reminder to push onthrough whatever fear or foul placeto the places I needed to go. Which meant becoming Adept.

But what was Adept? How did I become it? And, if only a fledged could lead House Rookmaaker, how did I become her? By becoming Adept.

Ma.s.sachusetts spoke of the Blizzard of '78. This must've been like that. Spring was coming, but there was one last good snowit iced the eaves and weighed down the trees. I would stand in it, thinking of St. Martley's. It came down so fierce it was like the snow was battling an invisible army.

Asher told me of a lake, spectacular, really, buried deep within the woods. I could go to it, he said, while I waited for Ballard to get better. I think the other benandanti were sick of me. AnywayI said I wouldso that's what I did, even though the snow had yet to thaw, and the lakewherever it waswould probably be frozen over.

It was, when I finally found it.

The Vltava fed into the lake. It was pretty, hemmed in with Douglas firs and cranberrybushes; they looked like Christmas trees, fat with snow.

No matter how much I wanted to forget, the Stromovka would not let me. I played a little game, seeing if I could open the Power of Sight between me and Lennox, if I could hallucinate him. It didn't work. Instead, I flipped open my Diary. It was my confidante, my counsellor, and my therapist.

Today's entry was on my mother. My reckless, misfit, genius, intolerable, dead-as-ashes, in-the-can I knew her no better than a handshake. Who was I kidding? The sun had risen and set, just as it had on her life. I had never shared anything with my mother. Boys I was crushing on... my first kiss.... Stillhow do you pick up the pieces of a life un-lived? I felt like I was on the outside, looking in; like the ice of the lake was a mirror, reflecting back at me her face, which was mine. If we shared Marks... I mean to say, was I anything like her? Did I want to be? Who was Kinsey Rookmaaker, anyway? Who had she been?

I felt pale in comparison. A n.o.body. A gulf existed between me and her, I didn't think would ever be surmounted.

It was snowing again. So thick I couldn't see. I put my hoodie up, watching the blizzard impact the treesthinking about too many thingswhen a voice behind me interrupted my musings....

A spell came instinctively to my lips, which shocked melike I was ready, like I wanted to fightbut it wasn't Rayven; I flinched, catching myself, turning back around; it wasn't even a Grigori. It was a woman (my age, or thereabouts), but she looked older, grown up. Like she was an adult and I was not. Like she was fledged, and I was not.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said. "The trees and whatnot."

Excellent use of whatnot, I thought.

"My name's Manon, by the way," she said.

I could see the tell-tale points at her fingertipsthe swirls, which meant she was a spellcaster like me. She had long pale slender-looking legs, and a heart-shapedcasually prettyface, all angles and eyeliner; and like me, she didn't seem to be cold. Maybe it was her Mark. I caught a glimpse of it, as I turned back around. She was wearing a tunic dress, black like her hair. In complete contrast with the weather.

"Sometimes I like to come here," she said. "This being one of those times. And you are?"

"Halsey RookmaakerThe Wiccan," I said, catching a glimpse of myself as I may have appeared to outsiders. Was that who I was?

"What are you thinking about, or do you mind my asking?" said Manon.

I twirled my Harm None ring.

"Nothing. I'llI'll see you later," I said. I needed to be alone. I got up to go.

"Don't go," she said. "We should talk some, compare notes. I'm Wiccan too."

"Are you Fledged? I thought eclectics couldn't be. What House are you from?" I demanded.

"Does it matter?" she said.

"Yeahit kind've does... to some people."

She stood on top of the snow, whereas I slushed in it. "Ooh, look!" she said.

I turned and saw a grey wolf stepping out of the trees, the grey wolf. It was the same animal that had been shadowing me. Come to have a look.

It sat still, watching me. The same bright know-it-all look, the same sparkle, in its eyes.... It sniffed, putting its head down, and then trotted closerlifting its paws in a curious way. I watched it sniff closer to me. And then it sat, very wise, and continued to stare.

Perhaps it had been trying to get to me for a very long time. Was it leading me somewhereor noprotecting meprobably it wanted me to keep goingto keep searchingTo find my way to Pragueall the way to the Master House itself!

My eyes lit up.... But that didn't make sense...

It padded across the ice, disappearing into the trees. Don't go, I thought. Now that it was here, I wanted the Grey Wolf to stay forever. I'll come back, I promised. Later....

"That's very good luck!" said Manon. She reminded me of Gemma Moonflower, in a wayall brightness and pep. "Wellsee you!" she said.

"Yeah. See you later," I said.

She left me standing there, wondering if the Grey Wolf was who I thought it was? It seemed impossible, but for the instinct telling me otherwise.

I sought out Asher, making my way back through the trees. If Ballard awoke and I had any luck, I could bring him up to speed on who I thought the grey wolf was. I imagined what his reaction would be. "You found out and I wasn'tthere..."

"Asher," I said, arriving out of breath, anxious to put my theories to the test. He was deep in conversation with Laurinaitis; they were eating their dinner, there in the Hollow, at a table that had been set out, like at a camp. I wondered how their hunt was going, and if Asher and Laurinaitis were any nearer to catching Rayven?

Ballard's motorcycle was over by the tree near mine.

"May I join you?" I asked. Other people were departing back to their domovi, leaving the picnic area.

Asher and Laurinaitis looked like they were vegetarians. That seemed to tally with the idea I'd had. It sent me into a major brain wave But Ballard is a meat eater, I thought. Later, I said again. Right now, I needed answers. I sat down and they offered to fetch me dinner, but I could not be bothered. What is food when there is figuring out to be done?!

"Halsey, Laurinaitis, Laurinaitis, Halsey," said Asher.

"Pleasure."

"So, you're a witch, huh?" said Laurinaitis, shaking my hand. "I'm an ailuranthrope."

"What animal do you turn into?" I asked.

Laurinaitis flashed his fangs at me.

"A jaguar," he said.

Perfect. It was good luck, really, Laurinaitis being here...

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," I said. "Both of you." Their reactions were encouraging. "I was wondering about shifting. But first, what is that symbol you are wearing around your neck, Asher? It looks like a triangle with a swirl inside of it."

"Oh, this? This is the Wiccan-slash-benandanti symbol for rebirth," he said. "And everyone knows the pyramid is indicative of our people."

"Why is a triangle that points upwards a symbol for the benandanti?" I asked.

"It's complicated," said Laurinaitis, who jumped in.

I didn't flinch, stutter, double take or WHATNOT. None of that.

"There are four cardinal points, Halsey Rookmaaker, North, South, East, and West. This pendant is like the arrow of a compa.s.s. It points North," said Asher.

"Go on."

"North is for Benandanti. Lornwould you like to?" He pa.s.sed the pendant to Laurinaitis.

"With pleasure," said Laurinaitis. Laurinaitis put the pendant down on the bench and angled it so we all could see. He angled it down.

"You're from Rome, right?" he said. It was getting late, and Asher lit a torch to put over us.

"Me? NoMa.s.sachusetts. Why?" I said to Laurinaitis.

He angled it that way, across the Atlantic Ocean, to St. Martley's.

"Well, we are from Rome," he said. The keratin in his nails was thick. Laurinaitis kept them clipped, but even in man-form they were deadly. How must he look transformed? Like Ballard? Or no. Selwyn. Selwyn who was a cat.

"But I thought... there were the Sons and Daughters of Romulus," I said, "and then the Grigori and the Benandanti? That they were separate. 'You to your corner, we to ours,'" I repeated.

Laurinaitis hissed at the name Grigori. "Lump the first and third together, not the second," he said.

"The Sons and Daughters of Romulusand the Benandanti," I said. "Better?"

He turned the arrow back down. I knew of whom he was thinking: Rayven. What was with the enmity between their two "covens"?

"You're Wiccan, right?" he said.

"I am. But I'm uninitiated," I said. It was starting to feel like an excuse.

"Not anymore," said Laurinaitis. "Asher? What d'you say?"

"She needs to know," he agreed.

"I agree...." said Laurinaitis. "Halsey, have you ever wondered why Il Gatto is the King of Cats, and the Werewolf King the Magister Equitum? Why a wolf is a cat, and a cat a dog? Compounded by the fact equus means horse, which is simply tradition and has no bearing on the matter whatsoever? If anything, Rome should be where the King of the Wolves resides, Digby Doubleday, our packhead's non-pack sobriquet. Today there are domesticated cats, but no ailuranthropes, in Rome, is that correct?"

I nodded, confused.

"The reason is the Last War," said Laurinaitis. "We really should have Manon here with us, Asher, and Enzo."

Something in me clicked.

"Lorenzo? Is he here?" I said.

Both Asher and Laurinaitis shook their heads.

"He died, unfortunately," said Asher. "Perhaps we should start with that."

"Lorenzo used to be Head Wolf," said Laurinaitis, "the position your friend Ballard currently holdsbut he got thrown out of Rome. They gave him the bootthe benandanti as well."

"Rome is shaped that way," said Asher, who drew a shape of the Italian Peninsula in midair with his finger.

The pendant on the table looked like an upside-down, all-seeing eye. The diarist in me snuffled ahead. Maybe indoctrination was knowing? It was going to be a long night, but I needed to know this. Asher and Laurinaitis continued on...

"The Grigori were not as they are now," said Laurinaitis. "They're still mean and nasty, yes, but beforeduring the Warthey had numbers.

"Following the Covenant of 1887, the respective covens, kords, clans, and dwayles, went their separate waysyou to your corner, we to ours, never to fight again. We hoped. Which should've been an end to it. But the Grigori marched against the Sons and Daughters of Romulus, and very nearly destroyed us. The Council of Magic was busy elsewhere, rebuilding their world, while ours was falling aparta clever trick, to turn their backs on us, after we had decimated ourselves elevenfold saving them. Prague owes Rome. Never forget that, Halsey.

"Erasmus had helped to turn the tide. Hiving had been initiated, but Lenoir had been cast out. In one respect, Hiving is good," said Laurinaitis. "In every other, it is monumentally bad and always has been so. But. Hiving. Was. It had happened. That was the material point. You look like I'm losing you, and maybe I am, but I a.s.sure you, all will be made clear.

"The problem with coming into something in the middle or the endand let us hope it is notis you never hear about the beginning," said Laurinaitis. "We will now endeavor to indoctrinate you into the Past.

"It was Rayven who killed Vanity Ravenseal, Erasmus's Mistress. On the orders of the vampires, some said. But Rome was in turmoil. The Grigori were all but extinct; they liked to fight amongst themselves, and so were undermined from within. Like a dead House, a conflict arose between the Roman Packheads. The Head Wolf, a cyanthrope named Crispus, was all for finishing the Grigori off. After all, they had attacked us! But his brother, Domitius, who was Head of the Quirinal at the time, thought otherwise. 'Haven't we suffered enough?' said Domitius one day. Crispus disagreed and overruled him. It was within his power. 'We must end this threat to us,' he said, 'once and for all.' That night, Domitius killed his brother, and it was Romulus and Remus all over again. Rome was in free fall.