nancy werlocks diary s02e13

by Julie Ann Dawson

  But what they didn’t know is that she had donated her eggs to her sister Ruth so she could have a baby. Vivika was reborn in Houston’s cousin/sister April and would have continued on with her stolen immortality had it not been for the fact that her host body succumbed to leukemia.

  For months, Houston and I had thought Vivika’s obsession with him settling down and starting a family was nothing more than obsessive mothering from beyond the grave. It was actually desperation. She wasn’t after a grandchild. She was after an empty shell to take over. Unlike most witches, psions pull their power from their own spiritual reservoirs. While they can learn to tap other sources of energy, it isn’t as easy for them. Because of this, they can’t naturally linger after death like Mom or Nanna. She needs a host body to stabilize herself. In the interim, she has been killing other witches and draining their lifeforce.

  Houston has barely spoken to anyone in the last two days. He and Eric took the train to New York City yesterday to blow off some steam. Eric said he spent the whole night just drinking and sulking. The few times he has spoken to me, he has been resolute in that he will see this through. “She has to die,” he says. His eyes look so cold when he says it.

  It hurts to see him like this. Ever since he first came into his powers, he’s managed to take everything in stride. Despite only really learning about the world of witches in April of this year, he’s adapted in his easygoing, snarky way. But finding out that everything his mother had told him was a lie; that she had been hiding in April the entire time; that she had tried to manipulate and abuse his trust for her own ends; that even now she has been killing other witches to prolong her own existence…I worry this might break him. And I won’t be able to put him back together.

  Sweet Rhea, mothers are supposed to protect their children. Not consume them. Watch over him in these final hours and give him the care his own mother never did.

  October 31st,

  “Why is Red Turtle here?” asks Vivika as she manifests near the ritual site I established by the cairn. The old man is sitting on a rock formation in a pair of weathered blue jeans and a flannel jacket, drinking a beer and petting the wolf sitting next to him. He nods to me in acknowledgement.

  “The cairn is his to protect, Vivika. As the Hierophant of this area, did you really think he was going to let a ritual like this go down and not be here to make sure the cairn is protected?”

  Red Turtle is a Leni Lenape shaman and guardian of the cairn, which is considered sacred by his tribe. Though he is not officially a member of any of the colleges, nobody questions his magical prowess or challenges his authority to protect the cairn. The last person that tried found himself living as a squirrel for a week as a lesson in humility.

  The Archmage doesn’t like to discuss it, from what I understand.

  He mutters something under his breath in Unami and shakes his head. “You will not consume more than is necessary to capture this fiend,” he says as he crosses his arms in front of him. “I will not allow it.”

  “You told him what we are doing?”

  “Vivika, I had to. Nobody conducts rituals this close to the cairn without Red Turtle’s approval.”

  “This site is Holy to my people, spirit. It will not be defiled,” he says.

  Vivika studies Red Turtle’s face and then turns her attention to the wolf. The wolf tilts its head and returns her stare with a curious expression.

  “Don’t mind him,” says Red Turtle has he pats the wolf on the head. “He’s just here to keep an old man company.”

  “I didn’t think there were many wolves left in New Jersey,” says Vivika.

  “Some would say they didn’t think there were any witches, either,” he replies.

  Houston places the ritual kit on the ground and glares at his mother. “This is your show. What do we do first?”

  “Everything needs to be done to exacting measures,” says Vivika without looking away from Red Turtle. “One mistake and Brynwolf gets away. Or worse.”

  “That is now the two-hundred and eight-fourth time you’ve reminded us,” says Houston. “I think we get it.”

  Vivika finally turns her attention to her son. “I will make this up to you, Houston. Somehow. Some way. When this is over I will make this right. There is so much I regret when it comes to you.”

  Houston doesn’t reply. He removes the salt from the kit and begins creating the ritual circle in a clockwise direction. I then create a second circle around the first using metal shavings, moving in a counter-clockwise direction. In the space between the two circles, we place the various crystals and components of the ritual to Vivika’s precise directions.

  I carefully step over the borders into the circle, creating a triangle figure in powdered saffron. Houston hands me the griffin eggs and I place them in the center of the triangle. I step out of the circle and check my watch.

  “We’re ahead of schedule,” says Houston. “Can we start and get this over with?”

  “No,” says Vivika. “We can’t start the ritual until exactly 6:32. That will be the optimum point between day and night. He’s going to resist the summoning, so we’ll need every advantage. What time is it now?”

  “6:09,” I say.

  “Thank you, Nancy,” says Vivika. “I know I have…been difficult. I’ve never been good about asking for help. Needing others to do things for me…I’m just not good about showing appreciation.”

  “We’ll get all of the apologies out of the way after we’ve dealt with Brynwolf,” I say.

  “Of course. It is just…no matter what happens; I wanted you to know that you have my sincere gratitude. I’m glad Houston found you and that you took him as an apprentice.”

  Red Turtle’s wolf huffs audibly and rolls over on its back.

  “I need a cool animal companion,” says Houston as he watches the wolf. “What level do I need to be to get one?”

  “You’re so weird,” I say and smile.

  The wolf sits up suddenly and barks in Houston’s direction.

  “I think it likes me!”

  “He was agreeing with your patron,” says Red Turtle.

  “So much for your animal companion,” I say.

  “Fine. I’ll just get a succubus.”

  “No!” Vivika and I say in unison.

  “You two are no fun these days.”

  “Time?” asks Vivika.

  “6:12.”

  “I’m just gonna set the timer on my phone instead of listening to you ask what the time is ever two minutes,” says Houston.

  “I am curious how this ritual is supposed to work,” asks Red Turtle. “You intend to capture this man, but he is not here? He is no spirit or demon and cannot be summoned.”

  “His body can’t be summoned, but his spirit can,” says Vivika. “The ritual will capture him in the griffin eggs, leaving his body in a state of suspended animation wherever he is hiding. Once captured, we can then take the eggs directly to the Council and present our case. He won’t be able to harm anyone while bound. Because the spirit remains tethered to the body, however, the Council will be able to locate his physical form and secure it before passing final judgment.”

  “This sounds like dangerous magic that could easily be abused.”

  “All magic can be dangerous and all magic can be abused,” says Vivika. “But this ritual requires very specific ingredients and timing, not to mention skill and magical talent. Few witches have the ability to do what we are about to do, and fewer could probably afford to. Poor Nancy had to spend hundreds of dollars just on the components.”

  “Thousands,” I correct. “Just over two thousand. And that isn’t counting the favors I had to call in.”

  “It could have been worse,” says Houston. “Eric helped out with some of the components.”

  “I had to give an imp to a Mesmer,” I remind him.

  “That might not have been wise,” says Red Turtle.

  “Wise or not, it saved me two-hundred bucks.”

  Red Turt
le says something in Unami and gestures toward the sky.

  It isn’t until Houston’s timer goes off that I notice the flock of crows that had begun to congregate in the tree limbs above us. I ignore the crows and follow Vivika’s directions to prepare for the ritual. Vivika floats over the circle and positions herself above the eggs. I stand behind her at the northern point of the triangle while Houston stands directly across from me, facing his mother.

  Red Turtle and his wolf observe.

  Vivika begins to draw on the latent energies near the cairn and starts to chant the ritual. Houston and I repeat our lines for the ritual as I slowly draw my silver-threaded lariat from behind my back. I look across the ritual circle at Houston. He’s just focusing all his concentration on his mother as tears start rolling down his cheeks.

  Just keep it together for a few more minutes, I think to myself. We can both have a nice, long nervous breakdown when this is done.

  With Vivika fixated on her ritual, she doesn’t realize I have stopped following her lead. I quickly whisper a binding incantation and toss the lariat over her head and around her neck.

  “What?” she shouts as I tighten the imbued lariat.

  “Nice throw,” says Red Turtle.

  Vivika twirls around to face me and struggles against the binding. “Nancy, what is the meaning of this? What are you doing?”

  “Destroying you, Chana Magus.”

  Vivika turns around and looks at Houston. He turns his back to her. “Houston! Whatever they told you is a lie! I’m your mother! Help me!”

  “No,” he whispers.

  “I command you!” says Vivika as she tries to compel him to help her. But Houston had already shielded himself with the incantation Brynwolf taught him before coming to the ritual site.

  The wolf walks toward the ritual circle and slowly transforms back into Joshua Brynwolf. “Go quietly, Vivika. It will be easier for him.”

  “You! How…”

  I continue with the binding incantation to make sure she is securely locked to the spot, pulling the last of her essence out of the astral plane and into the physical realm. I can feel her spirit trying to escape across the Veil. I close my eyes and focus on the incantation. My head is pounding from the psychic assaults Vivika is sending at me. Were it not for Brynwolf’s psionic shielding and the enchanted lariat restricting part of her own power, I’d probably be dead from an aneurism. Even now, my head feels like my brain has swollen up two sizes too big for my skull.

  “You people turned my only son against me! My blood! Houston, they are going to destroy me! After all the power I invested in you!”

  Houston continues to ignore his mother’s demands. Unable to rely on her own spirit power, Vivika attempts to draw power directly from the cairn. Red Turtle waves a hand and a translucent, shimmering shield of energy blocks her. “I told you, spirit. I would not allow the cairn to be defiled.”

  Vivika lets out a scream of anger. Black tendrils of energy manifest around her as she tries to lash out at Brynwolf, Red Turtle, and me. But the tendrils dissipate when they reach the border of the circle.

  “You were right, Nancy,” says Brynwolf as he watches Vivika struggle against the mystical bindings that continue to wrap around her. “Replacing the bismuth filings with lead filings and the ruby shards with red spinel shard makes an effective ward against her draining ability.”

  “You sabotaged me, you demon-screwing whore!” She sends a massive psionic blast at me that causes my head to physically snap backwards from the impact, but I manage to maintain the incantation and keep her from breaking free. Normally, a witch could draw support from her apprentice in binding situations, but the nature of Houston’s ward requires that he not open himself up in that manner lest his mother gain access to his mind.

  I feel her trying to draw energy from the Veil itself, as if trying to anchor herself to the Veil directly and feed from it. “We also substituted your Persian saffron with Austrian saffron. Did you know that the Austrian variant actually strengthens the Veil?” says Brynwolf.

  “And you mock me, you cowardly upstart!”

  “Shut up, Vivika,” says Houston. “Or Chana Magus or Hannah Monfort or whoever the hell you are supposed to be. You sound like a damn supervillain. Just die already.”

  Hearing that much pain and anger in Houston’s voice breaks my heart. I didn’t want him to be here when this happened, but there was no way Vivika would have trusted me if Houston had not been involved.

  Vivika looks to her son. “Houston, I never would have hurt you.”

  “I know. You just would have taken over the body of any daughter I ever had. Like you did to April.”

  “Houston, you are my son and I love you. I made you what you are.”

  “I’m your son. But you don’t love me. And I never asked for any of this.”

  Vivika turns her attention back to me and pushes a new psionic attack at my mind that starts clouding my ability to speak. A witch that can’t form words is a witch that can’t perform incantations. For a moment, I feel like my brain is a rope used in a tug-of-war as Brynwolf countering Vivika’s assault. I feel blood seep from my nose.

  I collapse to me knees as I finish the binding incantation. “It’s done. She’s not getting out of that.” I touch my fingertips to my eyes. When I pull my hand back, I see blood. Houston rushes over to me and helps me to my feet. I can’t stand. Even with Houston bracing me, my body is swaying like I’m drunk.

  “You chose her over me?” says Vivika. “I’m your mother.”

  “And I’m only me because I was born the wrong gender.”

  “That’s not true. Houston…”

  Brynwolf looks to Houston and sighs. “If you love your son, Chana Magus, I’ll give you one opportunity to prove it.”

  “You expect me to beg, upstart?”

  “What are you doing, Lord Advocate?” I ask. My words sound slurred in my head.

  “The right thing for your apprentice,” he replies. “Houston deserves to know the truth. He’s been through too much this year, and he’s been through all of this because of your lies. Everything he has endured is the direct result of your own manipulations. Do the right thing by your son.”

  “There is nothing she can do to make this right,” Houston says as he turns his head toward the Lord Advocate. “She’s a monster, and she needs to be put down like one.”

  “She is a monster,” says Brynwolf. “You’ll get no argument out of me. And you also believe your father was a monster. He killed her and your stepfather and left you an orphan. This goes beyond the last year, young man. You’ve spent your entire life thinking your father was a monster and now you know what your mother is. And it terrifies you, because you think you may be one, too.”

  “I don’t…”

  “Houston, I’m Lord Advocate of the Eighth of the Nine. You aren’t the only mind reader here.”

  “Stop trying to manipulate my son! Warlock! Are you going to let him do this to your apprentice?”

  “I don’t even know what is going on!” I try to stand on my own power but think better of it when I almost fall down. There is not enough aspirin in this state to treat the headache I have.

  “I’ve seen Houston’s medical records,” says Brynwolf. “I know that his abilities are not the result of Imprinting. They are far too powerful and far too precise. You didn’t give him his powers. You simply unlocked them. You may actually have been the one who locked them away to begin with.”

  “What are you saying?” asks Houston.

  “You are a powerful psion, Houston. And you have extraordinary potential. I won’t see that potential damaged from your own internal doubts. I don’t believe your mother was truthful about who your father was. I believe he may have been a witch. Most likely a psion himself. Your magic is hereditary, not imprinted.”

  “Is now really the best time for this conversation?” I ask.

  “It is the only time. Because only one person knows the truth. You won’t be released,
Chana Magus. You are too dangerous to be free. But I can offer you a reprieve. The Eighth of the Nine is willing to allow your essence to be imprisoned at the Nexus in exchange for the truth. Who is Houston’s father?”

  “You already know who is father is, upstart. He killed me.”

  “Don’t do this to your son. He deserves to know the truth.”

  “That is the truth, you pathetic fool. His father is responsible for my death.”

  “Houston’s magic isn’t the result of Imprinting. You can drop the charade. If you love your son, tell him the truth so he can reach his full potential.”

  Vivika’s laugh sends a cold chill through me. “You really don’t know, do you? Oh this is precious. Now why would the Eight of the Nine care so much about the paternity of one witch? Fine. I’ll take your little plea bargain, Lord Advocate. But I won’t tell you anything. I will only speak to the Eighth of the Nine. If he wants the information so badly, he will bargain with me directly. I have information he wants? He’ll give me what I want.”

  Before the Lord Advocate can reply, the flock of crows that had been observing our activities swoops down into the circle. Their talons glow with a faint blue light. They begin to tear Vivika’s astral form to pieces.

  “Red Turtle! What are you doing?” shouts Brynwolf over the sound of the crows cawing and Vivika’s screams.

  “What you should have done,” he replies as he calmly watches the birds tear Vivika’s soul to shreds. Vivika forces out one last psionic blast that kills a third of the flock, but not enough of them to stop what is happening.

  “Stop it!”

  “No.”

  “We need her!”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Stop this or—”

  “You have no authority over me, Lord Advocate. I don’t belong to your colleges. Do not forget who protects this cairn, and who allowed you to conduct your business here as a guest. I agreed to help you destroy this abomination. I keep my agreements.”

  “Houston!” Vivika shouts.

  “Its fine, Lord Advocate” says Houston as he turns around and watches the last of his mother’s soul get ripped to shreds by the birds. “He’s right.”