Part 15 (1/2)

”No, just part of the same strange mixture of legend and lies,” said Ballard.

Ballard's moon-blue motorbike started and we raced into countryside. I felt alive again.

Volt and Pouch were two scrawny-looking fourteen-year-old boys, when we finally got therethey jangled when they walked, weighted down with binoculars and other gear. Both were in makes.h.i.+ft fatigues. They looked ridiculous.

When Ballard appeared, they said, ”It's Ballard”, ”It's Ballard”, in hushed, awestruck voices. As a sixteen-year-old, he was far, far older and far superior than they were.

They were camped out in a little hideaway in Rome. Trastevere, to be precise.

”If there was a district of Magic in Rome it would be here. In Trastevere,” said Ballard.

Either Volt or Pouchthey were honestly interchangeabletook off their binoculars and handed them to Ballard.

We were in a quaint little corner of Trastevere, hiding behind a pillar at a four-way intersection; the street was made of cobblestones.

Volt and Pouch were using a newspaper stand to hide behind. People came and went, on foot, buying The Daily Telegraph, and somesuch, ignoring the boys. Ballard, however, seemed serious. The newspaper vendor pretended like we weren't there. I looked at my Gambalunga, just wis.h.i.+ng we could leave. It was parked beside a huge stack of newspapers that had been cut open. There were riots in the streets in other parts of Rome; it had yet to spill into Ballard's neighborhood. I commented upon it.

”How many times do I have to say? We keep the peace. The other mortals are completely oblivious to what is going on here. They're free to do what they want,” said Ballard.

”But what is going on?” I said.

”In a word?” said Ballard. ”...Change.” He peeked through the binoculars at the doorway across the street. It looked like a tavern of some sort. A moon and star were engraved above the doorway. It looked like a cyclops with a happy face.

Ballard frowned.

I made a noise.

”Ahem,” I said. ”Can I see you over here?” I pulled Ballard away. Volt and Pouch continued to stare at the strange tavern; one of them undid his canteen and took a long draught.

”What are we doing here?” I said.

”It's a stakeout mission,” said Ballard.

I mimed staking a vampire.

”It's not that,” he said.

”So are Volt and Pouch on the Wolves' Council? I mean are theywerewolves?” I practically had to whisper.

”Of course not,” said Ballard. ”They're way too young.”

”How old do you have to be, anyway?” I said.

He ignored this.

”Look. It's okay if you don't want to tell me,” I said. ”But I do want to know what we're doing here. I could be getting ready. Or something.”

”What, you mean for those Wiccans? You can't honestly believe you want to be a part of them? I've heard things,” said Ballard.

”Be that as it may...” I said.

He held up his hand. Ballard was really becoming annoying. Either Volt or Pouch made some hand sign. Ballard returned it, but more intricately.

”I just told them to hold their positions for another forty-eight hours,” he said.

”Don't they have school?”

”This is more important. Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah. You were nervous about something.”

”I just wondered what we were doing here, is all,” I said, slightly hurt.

”I told you, we're staking the place out. There are... things inside.”

”What kinds of things?”

”Honestly it's more up your ally than mine,” he said.

”Is that why I'm here, you need me for something?” I said.

”No.”

I snapped my fingers in front of his face, bringing him back. ”h.e.l.lo? Ballard, you there?”

”Right. You wanted to know,” he said. ”It's like this.”

I waited for him to speak, but it was like he was thinking about something. Finally he opened his mouth.

”We are called. It is our birthright. You understand?”

”Not really,” I said unhelpfully.

”It's like in magic. Lia says that when one is 'particularly well-lineaged,'” he said, putting the words in quotes, ”they are said to have status. Something to do with which parents you had or something.”

”Go on,” I said.

”Well, Lia and I come from a well-lineaged werewolf bloodline...”

”You mean Risky?” I said.

He nodded. ”My parents don't know. They think we just run the shop, so I guess it may have skipped them.”

”But what does that have to do...?”

”I'm getting there. That symbol over the door... means it's a werewolf-friendly tavern. Like that restaurant I took you to,” said Ballard. ”There is something in there that should not be. That is why we are watching.”