“That’s actually why I am calling. Lee’s taking us to dinner and a show in Atlantic City. He’s been saving up from his job that you helped him get with Mr. Hessman. I don’t know if I ever fully thanked you for that.”
“I’m just happy it’s worked out for him. For everyone.”
“I just think it would be nice if, well, since you are the one who helped him get the job and…you know we haven’t really seen you since you and Lee started...he’s very fond of you.”
“Lee’s…a unique guy.” Ye gods, this was getting awkward in a hurry.
“Well, I figured if you weren’t busy you would join us! It would mean so much to us. For everything you’ve done for Lee, you know.”
“Oh, how thoughtful of you! And…what a surprise. Um, we are getting into our busy season—”
“Will you just go to dinner with the old people?” thinks Houston at me.
“Can you give me one minute? I have to get the other line?”
“Of course, dear.”
I put Mrs. Brennon on hold. “How long have you been eavesdropping in my head?”
“Since the phone rang and your energy level flared up. I thought something was wrong.”
“You should have jumped out once you realized nothing was wrong.”
“Stop yelling at me and go to dinner with them.”
“I can’t go to dinner with the Brennons!”
“Why not? Your sleeping with their son.”
“Exactly!”
“You make no sense. How did you get a license to provide family counseling again?”
I throw up the Iron Wall incantation and get back to my conversation with Mrs. Brennon. “I’m sorry about that.”
“I understand. You’re at work. But we’ll be leaving around five o’clock for the casino so if you want to meet us here at the house and we can all drive together.”
“Mrs. Brennon—”
“Helen.”
“Helen, I—”
The office door opens. “Say ‘yes’ or I swear the next time your friend Janice comes in the shop, I’m going to give her a love potion and instructions on how to use it.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Nancy, is everything all right?” asks Mrs. Brennon.
“You know I’ll do it, too. She saw some of the fake stuff Anastasia put on sale and was asking.”
“Everything’s fine…Helen. Five o’clock is fine. Sure.” I mouth at Houston “I am going to kill you.”
September 28th,
“I’m happy Houston was able to cover the shop for you,” says Lee as he looks at me through the rear view mirror and smiles.
“It’s not every day I get invited to share in someone’s fortieth anniversary,” I say. Mrs. Brennon pats my hand.
“I should have mentioned it earlier but I didn’t want to be any trouble. I know how busy you are.”
Mrs. Brennon brushes the back of Lee’s head with her fingers. “Good thing for you your mother doesn’t mind being trouble.”
“Amen to that,” says Mr. Brennon. He turns around and smiles, slightly apologetic. “Thank you for coming, Nancy.” He gives his wife a playful stare before turning back around.
“So is your sister Karen going to meet us?” I ask.
“The girls have piano practice or something tonight,” answers Mrs. Brennon. “That reminds me, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
“My brother’s!” I almost shout.
“Oh, I was going to say if you didn’t have plans you could come with us to Karen’s this year,” says Mrs. Brennon.
“You know, I would, but this is going to be the first Thanksgiving without my mom, so…” My mother will choke me if she finds out I used her as an excuse to evade a Thanksgiving dinner invite. Lee frowns at me in the rear view mirror. I shrug.
“Of course. You should be with your family. Your brother has children?”
“Yes, I have a niece, Megan, who will be seven in November. And they just found out that their having a boy. He’s due in January.”
Mrs. Brennon squeezes my hand. “You must be so excited! Do you want children?”
“Helen!” says Mr. Brennon.
“I have my hands full raising Houston, and he’s a grown man,” I joke.
“He seems like a nice young man. And he’s been a good friend to Lee. Keeping him going to the gym and taking care of himself better. Lee was telling me you have an exchange student now? A young man from London?”
“It’s…yes. It’s…um…a cultural exchange program with...the Chamber of Commerce. Give young people in other countries a chance to experience American entrepreneurism. Eric. His name is Eric.”
“Is Houston going to be going to London in exchange?”
“I…can think of a few places I’d like to send him, actually.”
Lee starts laughing.
We arrive at the casino. Lee gets his mother’s wheelchair out of the trunk and he and his father help her into it. As a small mercy, dinner is served during the show; a big band performance by the Johnny Blue Orchestra playing songs from the 1930’s and 1940’s. After dinner, there is a short intermission while the dance floor is opened. Helen’s face looks on sadly as some of the couples go onto the dance floor.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” asks Lee as he places a hand on her shoulder.
“Nothing, honey. I just…since the accident, I do miss dancing. Your father was a wonderful dancer.” She forces at smile at Mr. Brennon.
Lee looks at the dance floor and takes a deep breath. “Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t know and—”
“Oh, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong! You always worry so much about me. It’s sweet. Don’t get upset. I’m having a lovely evening.” The gleam returns to her eyes and she adds, “You know, you should dance with Nancy. If I can’t get on the dance floor, you have to do it for me.”
“Helen, you and my mother would have gotten along very well,” I say as I let Lee lead me onto the dance floor.
The band starts up a version of the song Garden in the Rain. “I’m not really a good dancer,” says Lee.
“We’ll wing it,” I say. “So what exactly have you told your mother?”
Lee flushes bright red. “I tried not to give her details. But she’s relentless. When I didn’t come home, she was worried about where I was. They still think I might, you know, fall off the wagon. So I told her I was with you and…” he takes a deep breath. “She’s relentless.”
“Mothers usually are.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I.”
After the song ends, we walk hand in hand back to the table. Mr. Brennon is whispering in his wife’s ear. She giggles and gives him a teasing slap on the hand. “You two need to take a dance class,” she jokes. “Kids these days don’t know what to do on a dance floor.”
“We just need more practice,” says Lee.
“Well, maybe I’ll live to see the day you two dance—”
“Helen...,” says Mr. Brennon.
“—at our fiftieth anniversary. What did you think I was going to say, old man?”
He raises an eyebrow at her.
We get back to the Brennons’ home. Lee walks me to my car. “My parents really like you,” he says.
“They’re good people. And they are lucky to have you for a son.”
“That means I lot. Hearing you say that after everything that happened. I know they aren’t my parents in the physical sense. But there is more to parenting than biology. I am their son now.” He takes my hands in his and looks down at the ground. “I want to say something to you. And I don’t want you to tell me I’m wrong or that I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t want to hear some para-scientific explanation. In fact, you don’t have to even respond. You can just let me get it out of my system and get in your car and not reply. Can you do that?”
“Should I be afraid?”
“I don’t know. I am. There is a little fear. This is all new to me. But I think I love
you, Nancy. I love you and it scares me just a little but I don’t want it to stop. I just wanted to say it out loud.”
“Lee—”
“I know what you’re going to say—”
“I love you.”
“That’s not what I thought you were going to say. Did you just say that?”
“I love you, Lee. And yes, that scares me, too. Because we are treading strange ground here. It’s strange and sudden and terrifying and wonderful. But we’ll make this work. Somehow.”
Lee kisses me. I get in the car and notice the living room curtain abruptly close as Lee turns around to return to the house.
When I get home, I sense my mother’s presence in the kitchen. There is a pot of coffee freshly brewed.
“I asked Harlan to make a pot before he left,” says Mother, who is sitting at the kitchen table.
“Let me guess, you accepted the job as Overseer for that archdemon?” I say as I make myself a cup of coffee.
“We’re still negotiating the terms,” she replies.
“Is this decaf?” I ask after taking a sip from my cup.
“Well, of course it is. You need to get a good night’s sleep and go to work in the morning.”
“You are such a mom,” I joke. My mother tilts her head and gives me a firm ‘Mom’ look. “What did I do, now?”
“Honey, it’s about your servitor.”
“Mom, we are not having this discussion now!” I say as I dump my cup of decaf in the sink.
“Nancy, it’s just that I worry this relationship is very unhealthy. For both of you.”
“I understand your concern. I really do. And it is something I have given a lot of thought to. That’s why we’re taking things slowly.”
“Slow or fast, what does that matter? Have you really considered the ramifications of this? You are the same girl that used to make fun of those people who would write in to Dear Gladys about their demon lovers.”
“Anyone who writes into an advice column deserves to be made fun of. And those people are always so ridiculous. Half those letters are made up!”
“Nancy, listen to me. Lee is your servitor. Whether you intended that or not. Whether you wanted it or not, you are bound to him until death. If your romantic relationship goes south, you will still be stuck with him. If you cut this off now you still have the opportunity to gently guide him into some level of normalcy. If you really care about him, you have to let him develop a life that doesn’t revolve around you.”
“And that is what I am doing, Mom. Helping him develop his own life.”
“By sleeping with him? What are you going to do if he evolves into an incubus?”
“He’s not going to become an incubus. You’re being melodramatic now.”
“He is evolving, Nancy. You do realize that? He’s not a lemure anymore. He’s barely a skinwalker.”
“I know that, Mom! I’m a Rank Two demonologist. I recognize demonic evolution when I see it!”
“Well fine, little miss Rank Two demonologist. What is he evolving into?”
“I don’t know. But neither do you!”
“And neither does your grandmother. And that is the problem. And she has been actively trying to figure it out.”
I sit back down at the table and process what Mom just said. “Mom, you’ve seen him. There is no corruption. Even his eyes have normalized. You can barely see the demonic evidence on him. Whatever he is evolving into, it isn’t going to be some nightmarish chaos monster. It will still be Lee.”
“Lee Brennon is dead, Nancy,” says Mom while jabbing a finger in my direction. “A demon moved into his body and made himself comfortable.” She stands up and folds her arms in front of her. “Think about this. One day, Lee is going to want to do something that you won’t want him to do. And you will use your control over him to force him to obey. And it won’t be out of anger or hate that you do it. It will be because you genuinely think it is in his best interest and that you are protecting him. But it won’t matter. Because the day you do it is the day he’ll remember he isn’t your boyfriend or your husband, gods forbid it gets that far. He’ll remember he is a servitor and you are his master, and your relationship, whatever it has become at that point, will be forever torn.”
“Then I need to make sure that it doesn’t come to that.”
Mom doesn’t reply. She just shakes her head and vanishes back beyond the Veil.
Animation
October 1st,
“Do you really think this is a good idea?” asks Houston as the customers gather around the table for their card readings. “You remember what happened with Mrs. Martins.”
In August, Anastasia acquired a very well-crafted tarot card deck from the same eBay vendor that created the movie prop grimoire that was used to accidentally summon Lee into the world. Through a combination of a thin veil and her youthful enthusiasm for all things magic, Anastasia managed to bring an anima into being. The anima bound itself to Anastasia and her tarot deck, helping her give accurate readings despite her lack of actual magical ability. When her reading indicated Mrs. Martins was going to have an accident, she was too scared to tell the woman. She later died after falling down her stairs. The woman was already old and had a history of medical problems, but Anastasia blamed herself.
“I already talked to her about how to handle negative readings,” I say as I count down the register drawer. “If she ends up with a reading that makes her uncomfortable, she’s to come get me immediately.”
“And then you tell the lady she’s going to die. That’s a great solution!”
“Hush!” I reopen the register for Houston and move around the counter to go set up a holiday display.
Anastasia sits down at the table and extends her arms in front of her dramatically in what she refers to as “gathering her energies” motion. She’s dressed in a white poet blouse and a dark orange peasant skirt that is accented with silver-tone thread and tiny black beads along the hem. And, of course, a dozen various bangle bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and assorted other pieces of jewelry she’s made. I swear she looks like she raided Stevie Nicks’ closet.
With my Third Eye incantation active, I can see the anima is sitting on her right shoulder. When it first manifested, it was only the size of a penny and solid white. It has matured rapidly over the last few weeks and now is about the size of a fist and has swirls of bright pink, pale yellow, and indigo. Another month or two and it might be ready to evolve into a sprite.
“All right,” she says to her patrons. “Now a few things. First, remember that the future is in constant motion, so whatever I see in the cards isn’t set in stone. It is possible to change your fate by taking action. So if something comes up that makes you unhappy, you aren’t helpless! More importantly, if you feel your reading is bad,” she looks up at her English teacher who is in attendance, “please don’t hold it against me when you grade my book report.”
Everyone laughs as her teacher says that she can’t promise anything.
“We should be recording these and posting them on YouTube,” thinks Houston to me.
“Please don’t give her any ideas.”
The door chimes and a man walks into the shop with a cloaked aura. I can see the psychic wall around him, blocking the Third Eye from reading his aura. It isn’t uncommon for witches that are aware of Houston to activate Iron Wall or some other cloaking mechanism when they shop here. Houston took it personally at first, until I reminded him of how he routinely jumps into my head unannounced and has shown a tendency to get too curious about other people’s thoughts.
The man smiles at me and walks toward the counter.
“Good evening, how can I help you?” asks Houston.
“Picking up an order. Last name is Shan.”
“I have it right here,” says Houston as he pulls Mr. Shan’s order out from below the counter. “Any relation to Satele?”
The man laughs. “Don’t start with that. I’m thinking about changing my name to something less gee
ky. Like…Skywalker.”
“Oh ye gods. Not another one,” I say, then immediately feel my face turn red as I realize I said it out loud.
“We’re everywhere, Nancy,” says Houston. “You can’t escape the Force.”
As Houston rings up the order, the man turns and watches Anastasia perform her tarot card readings. He looks at me and taps his right shoulder. I nod. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket to pay for the order and asks quietly, “Do you stock Persian Griffin eggs?”
“No,” Houston replies. “But we can order them. There is a two week lead time.”
“Do I need to put down a deposit?”
Houston looks at me, “Do we need a deposit for special orders?”
“Anything non-returnable to the vendor requires a 25% non-refundable deposit.”
“That’s certainly fair. I’d like to order one.” He fills out the special order form and pays the deposit.
As he leaves, a tiny pride wisp slips through the door. I point it out to Houston. “Go get the wisp broom,” I whisper to him. “I’ll keep an eye on it.”
On top of all the other problems, the wisp population in South Jersey has exploded. It always happens near Sahmain, but it has been really bad this year. I suggested to the Archmage that it might be a good idea to put out a bounty on them, if for no other reason than to give apprentices some much needed practice.
Houston goes to the janitorial closet to retrieve the wisp broom as I watch the wisp float across the floor, looking for a suitable host. It stops behind Anastasia’s chair and starts to glow. Anastasia’s anima twitches when it realizes the wisp is there and pulls itself up so that it resembles a long tube. Anastasia scratches her shoulder; her fingers going through the anima. The wisp expands its form and looks almost like a puffer fish as it tries to intimidate the anima.
The anima hops down Anastasia’s arm to the back of her chair and opens the top of its tube shape in what resembles a flower blooming. It puffs multi-colored dust at the wisp, which recoils from the attack. Houston returns with the wisp broom and sweeps it out the door. The anima resumes its ball shape and returns to Anastasia’s shoulder.
nancy werlock's diary s01 - episodes 9 Page 3
