nancy werlock's diary s01 - episodes 8

by Julie Ann Dawson

  “For what?” asks Houston.

  “Because they’ll probably ask us to attend the walk and deal with any Thought Beasts that manifest. And we’ll need to blend in with the walkers and other attendees.”

  “I’m totally gonna be Daryl Dixon!” exclaims Houston.

  “Guess that makes me Rick Grimes,” says Eric.

  “You need to drop that accept first.”

  “Bloody hell, mate. You know Andrew Lincoln is a Brit, right?”

  “No he’s not. He talks with a Southern accent.”

  “He’s as British as I am, mate.”

  “Don’t look at me!” I say as I catch Houston looking to me for support. “I have no idea what you people are even talking about.”

  “The Walking Dead!” they both exclaim.

  “You don’t watch The Walking Dead?” asks Eric.

  “It’s like the biggest show on TV, boss,” says Houston.

  “How much TV do I watch?”

  Houston turns around in his seat to face Eric. “You know what this means, right?”

  “Walking Dead Marathon.”

  September 18th

  “Oh ye gods!” I exclaim as I cover my eyes for the third time this episode. “How is this on regular TV?”

  “Its cable,” replies Houston.

  “There is less blood on Game of Thrones.”

  “Not by much. And they make up the difference with nudity,” says Eric.

  “How can you to eat while watching this?”

  “You are such a wimp for a demonologist,” says Houston as he takes another bite of pizza.

  My phone rings. I pick it up to see Lee’s phone number.

  “You can’t keep ignoring him,” says Houston.

  “Don’t read my surface thoughts,” I say.

  “I didn’t. I just saw your face when you picked up the phone.”

  “He’s your familiar or whatnot, isn’t he?” asks Eric.

  “Servitor. He’s not a familiar.” I let the call go to voicemail.

  “Well, if you don’t want him to call, just tell him not to call. He has to listen to you doesn’t he?”

  “It’s not that simple, Eric.”

  “It would be that simple,” says Houston. “If she didn’t have the hots for him.”

  “He’s a lemure!”

  “No, he’s a skinwalker now.”

  “Oh, well, that makes it so much better!”

  Lee had been accidentally summoned to the material world a few months ago by an inexperienced adept with a movie-prop grimoire. To escape me, he had possessed the body of a drug addict in an ambulance. The addict died and the lemure moved in permanently before we could track him down. Not wanting a free-roaming skinwalker on the prowl, it was determined that he needed to be bound. To me. Seeing as I am the highest ranking demonologist in the area since Mom died.

  The phone rings again.

  “Answer it, Nancy,” says Houston. “Or I will. And you don’t want that!”

  “I hate you,” I say as I answer the phone.

  “I’m sorry,” says Lee on the other end. “Are you busy?”

  “This is going to sound really weird, but we’re watching a Walking Dead marathon because we might have to deal with zombies.”

  There is a long pause before Lee says, “If I’m bothering you—”

  “No! You didn’t do anything wrong!” I assure him. He has anxiety attacks whenever he thinks he has upset me. Since becoming a skinwalker, he’s developed peculiar feeding habits for a demon. Most demons feed off of human vices. Lee feeds off of affection and making people happy. So whenever I get upset it’s like pouring vinegar into someone’s orange juice.

  I explain the situation to Lee. He immediately volunteers to help in any way he can. And the truth is a demon on site would be a huge help. I agree and tell him to meet up with us before the walk.

  “Hey, if he’s part of the Team Venture now, he should come over and watch the marathon with us,” says Houston. “Then you could bury your face in his shoulder on the gruesome parts.”

  “You are such a geek,” I say as I slap his arm.

  September 20th

  “Who’s trailer did you steal that ensemble from?” I say as I look Houston up and down. He’s wearing a torn up pair of blue jeans, a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a black vest.

  “I’m Daryl!” he says as he points the NERF Zombie Strike Crossfire bow at me.

  “Riiigght.”

  “Walk rules prohibit real weapons or toy weapons that resemble real weapons. So…” he holds up his bow. “I work with what I can.”

  Eric walks toward us wearing a sheriff’s hat, a beige shirt with a fake badge, and wielding a pair of red, opaque water guns. I just shake my head.

  “This was your idea,” reminds Houston. “We need to blend in and all.”

  “I know. I know.”

  Anastasia comes running over to us. I reflexively flinch at the site of a teen zombie racing toward me. But then she opens her mouth and I remember she’s not really a zombie.

  “How do I look?” she asks. I little piece of fake flesh comes loose under her chin. Houston smooths it back into place for her.

  “You look like a zombie,” I say.

  “I’ve been practicing my walk, too!” she extends her arms out at a slight angle and shuffles closer. “Good, huh?”

  “Don’t forget to get your free flu shot before the walk starts,” I say. “I hear it also protects from the zombie virus.”

  “But I’m already a zombie,” she says, followed by a fake maniacal laugh. “And now I infect Eric!” He grabs Eric’s hand and play-bites his pinkie.

  “Somebody get me a pair of hedge trimmers, stat!” yells Houston. “We need to amputate a finger over here!”

  “If I had to be infected by a zombie, I would want it to be you, Annie,” says Eric. Beneath her five inches of zombie make-up, she blushes.

  “She’s getting a bit forward,” says Eric as Anastasia leaves to join the rest of the walkers.

  “I will break your face,” says Houston.

  “She bit me, mate!”

  “I don’t care who bites who first.” He points the toy crossbow at him.

  Eric holds his hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry; she’s still too young for me yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “Boys?” I say.

  I see Lee approaching us and start laughing. He’s wearing a t-shirt that says “The wearer of this garment is Zombie Friendly. In the event of undead apocalypse DO NOT EAT.”

  “Do zombies read?” I ask.

  “I figure it can’t hurt, right?” he says with a smile.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “I’d do anything for you,” says Lee.

  I feel my face flush hot. “Well, let’s hope anything doesn’t include getting ripped apart by a zombie horde.” I point over to the booth where Lansfield is administering free flu shots. “You two should get over there and get the shot.”

  “I don’t like needles,” says Houston.

  “Really? This from the guy that made fun of me over watching zombies eat people?”

  “Those people have already poked me enough,” says Houston. He leans toward Eric and whispers. “They have a sample of my blood.”

  “For what?” asks Eric.

  “Oh stop! That was just for the tests they ran! It’s not like they are going to start cloning Houstons en masse.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because they have more sense than that.”

  “I meant to ask why necromancers are administering flu shots,” says Eric.

  “The shot also includes a serum that should provide protection against any undead infections. In the event something bites someone.”

  “Oh! She’s right, mate. We should get that before we go about tackling zombies.”

  “There will be no zombie tackling!” I exclaim. “Listen, remember the plan. If you come across a zombie, the goal is to get it to follow you t
o one of the secure locations so the necromancers can deal with it.”

  “Right, right. Just kite ‘em. Got it,” says Houston.

  There are several teams of witches positioned along the walk route to watch for manifestations. Houston and Eric have a position about halfway up the route. Lee and I drive ahead to the campground near the finish line. If someone sees a manifestation, the job is to get the zombie’s attention and lead it toward one of the necromancer positions in the woods. Each position is far enough into the woods to not be visible from the road but close enough to give them a chance to move quickly if things escalate and something happens in the crowd.

  Houston is serving as central communication, mentally relaying information between the different groups as they check in with reports. It allows us to keep contact without risking someone overhearing anything.

  “Did your mom use to do stuff like this?” asks Lee as we mill about the finish line area, pretending to be casual onlookers.

  “Mom never dealt much with Thought Beasts. Sometimes she would get involved in cryptid hunts, but generally she just focused on exorcisms.”

  “She did a lot of exorcisms?”

  “Hundreds. Of course, only about a third of them were real exorcisms. Most of the time she just went through the motions to make a client feel better.”

  “She charged people to do fake exorcisms?”

  “It’s not like that. When a person is so terrified that they have reached the point where they are looking to hire an exorcist, they are no longer thinking rationally. You can’t reason with someone who thinks their house or car or baby is possessed. In some cases, it is a situation where if you don’t appease the client and put their fears to rest, they can become dangerous to themselves or others.”

  “So sometimes people lie to each other not to hurt them, but to protect them?”

  “Please don’t twist that lesson and have it bite me in the ass later.”

  “No promises.” He shuffles nervously. “She did real exorcisms, too, though. Right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened to the demons she exorcised?”

  I sigh. “They would usually just get banished back to their appropriate plane of existence.”

  “Did she ever try to, I don’t know, talk to them first?”

  “Lee, most demons…most demons aren’t like you. They don’t want to talk, or if they do, it is only to see what they can extract from mortals. I mean, let’s be honest. Even you admitted that you thought about killing me during the binding ritual. And that after you already knew what was going to happen.”

  “I guess you’re right.” He kicks a pebble at his feet. “I’m gonna do a walk around the campground.”

  Houston chimes in with a status report. So far, so good. No zombie manifestations. After all of the reports come in and I confer with one of the other necromancers at the campground, it occurs to me that Lee has been gone for a good forty minutes. As he is my servitor, I know the general direction he went. So I go looking for him.

  “Lee?” I shout into the woods. The only reply I get is the sound of insects and a few chirps. “Oh come on! Don’t do this!” Still no reply. “Being emo is not an attractive trait!” Nothing. “I’m sorry if I upset you!”

  I hear something to my left. I turn to see a corpse shamble toward me.

  “Of course!” I shout as the zombie slowly lurches toward me. I wave a hand at the zombie. “Well, come on, sunshine. I know where there is a nice buffet.”

  I go into a slow jog and lead the zombie toward the necromancer position. About halfway to the spot, something comes moving quickly through the woods and leaps at me. I barely manage to put up an arcane ward before it hits me. It crashes into my ward with enough force to knock me off my feet. It ends up on top of me, slamming fists against my ward.

  Why did it never occur to me, or anyone, that the zombies that manifest might be the fast ones, too?

  The shambler moves in as I try to push the fast zombie off of me. I pull my legs up to try to get them under my ward before the shamble tries to take a bite out of my calf. I manage to get to my feet and unleash a bolt of electricity at the fast moving one. It stumbles for a moment, but then shakes off the shock.

  “Right,” I remind myself. There is nothing in the zombie mythos where any of them are susceptible to electricity. Fire doesn’t do much good, either. And being deep in the Pine Barrens, fire is probably not a good option to begin with.

  I put up a stationary ward to deflect the fast zombie’s incoming leap. The shamble bangs against the ward, and then starts to move to the right as if looking for an opening. This is getting annoying.

  A shadowy tentacle comes into my line of sight from my left and wraps around the fast zombie. It lifts the thing into the air and bashes it head-first against a tree repeatedly until the skull cracks and brains smear over the bark.

  “I think its dead dead, Lee!”

  “Can never be too careful,” he replies as he slaps the shambling zombie away from me with another shadow tentacle. He walks toward the shamble as it gets back to its feet and punches it in the head with enough force to break bone. It sways in place and emits a low gurgle. Lee punches it a second time in the head and blood and puss squirts out before the zombie collapses.

  “Ew, you have zombie brains all over your shirt, now,” I say. “We should have just lured it to the necromancers.”

  “You know they aren’t destroying them, right?” says Lee as he removes his t-shirt.

  “What…um..what do you mean?” I feel a bit flushed looking at his naked torso.

  “I was over there. The few that wandered into the area they put in a van.”

  “They’re keeping them?” I concentrate and send a mental message to Houston. “Tell the evokers the necromancers aren’t destroying all the zombies. Some are being transported elsewhere.”

  “Gimme a sec…”

  “Houston?”

  “Hold on, already!”

  “Is everything all right?” Lee steps toward me with a look of concern on his face.

  “Houston’s put me on hold!”

  “OK, back!”

  “What happened?”

  “We were fighting a zombie!”

  “Don’t sound so thrilled!”

  “I’m amazing.”

  “Oh ye gods. Tell me later. Just get the message out.” I shake my head and retrieve a plastic sealable bag from my purse. “He was in the middle of fighting a zombie. He’s way too happy about this.” I motion for his shirt. “Put that in the bag. It needs to be quarantined.”

  “Did I do well, mistress?” he says as he puts his t-shirt in the bag.

  “What did I say about calling me that?”

  “I believe you said not to call you that around other people,” he says as he steps closer to me and puts a hand on my hip. “And you said I could call you that if I wanted to.”

  “Don’t use my own words against me.” I really should step away, but I don’t. I just bite my lower lip like a stupid school girl while looking into his eyes.

  “By the way, I wasn’t being emo or whatever you called it,” he says. “I figured you needed some space. I was upsetting you with my questions. That wasn’t my goal. I’m just still trying to understand things. This is all…very strange to me.”

  “You and me both.”

  “The thing is, I completely understand your concerns. I’m a demon. I’m a squatter in a body that should have been allowed to die. It freaks you out. Right now this body should be in almost the same condition as…well…those things over there.” He nods his head toward the zombie corpse. “But something happened. Something that maybe wasn’t supposed to happen but it did.”

  “This adjustment has probably been difficult for you, too.”

  “But that’s just it. It’s not. It’s…weird and confusing at times. I sit at the kitchen table with the Brennons and they talk about stuff and when I access those memories, they’re my memories now. When it first started
, it was like reading a book of someone else’s life. But now it feels like my life. I have wonderful parents and a great sister and adorable nieces and they’re mine. There is no line anymore between human and demon. They’re both me. And it’s incredible.”

  “Do you access the negative memories?”

  “I blocked them out at first because they scared me. He was really in a bad place. He meant to die that day. It wasn’t an accidental overdose. He wanted to die. And that scared me because I couldn’t fathom it. So I pushed them away. But the funny thing is that the more…immersed?...I’ve become, the more I accept those memories. Because feeling moments so low makes the highs that much sweeter. I feel…I just feel—”

  “Blessed?”

  “Yeah. That’s the word.” He smiles and looks away. “Though it probably sounds funny for a demon to talk about feeling blessed.”

  “I don’t know,” I joke. “I’m sure Anastasia could direct you to a dozen paranormal romances where just that happened.”

  “May I kiss you, mistress?”

  The word “yes” escapes my mouth before my brain processes the question. He wraps both arms around me and gently kisses my lips. I feel dizzy with euphoria. I vaguely form the notion that I’m only still on my feet because Lee is holding me up.

  “Thank you,” he says as he slowly pulls away.

  “No fair,” finally say. “You saved me from zombies then took your shirt off. Dirty pool, Lee.”

  “You’re my mistress,” he says with a shrug. “I’m sure you can devise a suitable punishment for my transgression.”

  I look him up and down and grin. “I suspect I can come up with something.”

  * * *

  Steve is on the warpath. He parks his truck directly in front of the necromancers’ van and demands they open the vehicle. When Necromancer Morton tries to protest, Steve just says, “Don’t.”

  He storms pass Morton, pushes Necromancer Allen out of the way, and throws open the van door. Three zombies shamble out toward him. He steps back and utters the Dust to Dust incantation before grabbing the first zombie by the face. Green flames lap around his hand and cause the body to disintegrate. He repeats the process with the other two.