nancy werlock's diary s01 - episodes 1-7

by Julie Ann Dawson

  “I had a lot of practice as a teenager because of Mom. Being a Rank Two she got called in on a lot of emergencies, particularly whenever some idiot would try to tap the cairn. Mostly cyptids. The only time we ever came across a Thought-Beast was that Cenobite wannabe that got loose in Newark in I think it was 1996.”

  “Seriously? Like Pinhead?”

  “Not exactly like Pinhead. Some kid with too much free time on his hands made a model of the puzzle box, got together with some Goths who had an Ouija board and accidentally put a tear in the veil, and it went downhill from there. Their collective consciousness wasn’t real well focused so the actual creature wasn’t nearly as impressive as you would think.”

  “Still. Friggin’ Cenobite!” Houston shakes his head. “You’d think something like that would end up in the papers.”

  “Fortunately, the Technomancers have kept up, and ahead, of the technology. In a pinch, memories can be erased. Files deleted.”

  “Flashy flashy?”

  “Not exactly, but you get the idea.”

  “Does it ever scare you?”

  “You try not to let it. Especially if dealing with demons. If they smell fear, they will use it against you. Most of the time, you get too caught up in the moment. It’s not until later that it really sinks in what you just faced. And by then you’re just relieved you survived it.”

  “I should have gotta a picture of it.”

  “I’ll email Evoker Geoffrey and see about getting you one.”

  Rank and File

  July 10th

  Sonny is dead.

  Steve called me this morning with the news. Sonny had been in the area to assist Steve with a rogue lemure. It had taken over the body of a dead drug addict and was now a full blown skinwalker. I knew Sonny from a few symposiums I attended while in college. I was just appeasing my mom at the time. He struck me as a smarmy guy. Never looked me in the eye because he was too busy looking at my boobs. But his leering aside, he was a damn good Justicar.

  Mundane doctors at Our Lady of Lourdes ruled it a heart attack. They are transporting his body to Lansfield Funeral Services, which is a cover for the Lansfield Necromancer’s Guild, for a proper autopsy. Sonny was a smoker and heavy drinker, but he was also a Justicar. He was someone trained to engage in both magical and physical combat with everything from rogue mages to godlings. Justicars don’t just fall over from heart attacks.

  Steve isn’t sure if it the lemure killed him or something else. Something else being whatever it is that killed Anatole and two other Justicars over the last year. He says that the Council is calling Court to determine a course of action. He’s afraid they aren’t going to be able to keep what is going on a secret much longer.

  I ask him what he intends to do about Lee Brennon, the lemure turned skinwalker. For now, that problem is on the back burner unless evidence turns up that he killed Sonny. The lemure has been surprisingly docile since taking over the body. For the most part, it has stayed at Brennon’s parents’ home. When it has left the house, it was in the company of one or both of his parents.

  “He took his mom to see Monsters University,” says Steve. “What the Hell is up with that? Demon taking an old lady to a kid movie? What the Hell kinda vice does that feed?”

  “Adults watch those movies, too,” I say. I realize I sound way too defensive. But I liked Monsters University. Fortunately, I had my niece with me as a cover at the time.

  The short of it is that Lee the Lemure seems content to just play the role of the devoted son for now, and therefore is a low priority unless he was involved in Sonny’s death.

  Which is fine with me, as I have a much higher priority of my own.

  I haven’t told Houston yet about his mother’s visit. Vivika was annoyed about his work on their family tree. For a dead woman so insistent on securing a grandchild, she was miffed at the notion that Houston cared about his family history.

  “Knock, knock,” says Houston as he comes into the office. “Guess what came in the mail?” He holds up the dark red envelope we’ve been hoping to see.

  “They gave clearance for your trials! Open it! We need to see what date it is.”

  I had put Houston in to be fast tracked for his Rank Five trials. Usually, an apprentice needs to train under his mentor for a couple of years before they can take their trials. But because of the unique circumstances of Houston’s manifestation, the College approved him for an early trial.

  Houston opens the envelope and stares at the letter. “Well?” I ask.

  “Um, the 13th.”

  “August 13th? That doesn’t give you too much more time to prepare.”

  “No, July 13th.”

  I snatch the letter from his hand. “This can’t be right. You aren’t ready. We still need to review Circles of Power and Arcane Locks yet.”

  “Maybe I can find some video tutorials on WitchNet?”

  “Let me call the Vice-Chancellor. Someone got their wires crossed.”

  I call Vice-Chancellor Gavin’s office. “No, I can’t push back the date,” he says as soon as he picked up the phone.

  “Good morning,” I say. I at least expected some cursory greeting. “I wasn’t asking for a date change. I just wanted to make sure the date was accurate.”

  “Do you think we commonly send out trial acceptances with erroneous dates, Madame Warlock?”

  “Typos happen.” He sighs into the phone, but otherwise all I get is silence. “If there is a problem regarding my apprentice I should know.” Still no reply. “Does this involve his mother’s Inquest?”

  “What Inquest?”

  Now it is my turn to be silent.

  “You don’t have a familiar, do you?” asks the Vice-Chancellor.

  “No. It’s on the to-do list. But not yet, why?”

  “I’ll call you back. I have to take this call.” He hangs up the phone.

  This is just all kinds of bad.

  When I first took Houston on as my apprentice, I discovered that the Nine had opened an Inquest into the death of his mother. Rumors had always been that her first husband killed both her and her second husband, who was Houston’s father. Nobody every believed that, of course. It would have been impossible for a mundane to get the jump on a Rank two Psion. The police had all sorts of evidence proving he did it and he’s currently serving two life sentences in prison. But no amount of physical evidence can ignore the fact that Vivika would have known his intentions long before he had a chance to carry out the plan. The only way he could have killed her was if she wanted him to or if someone more powerful than her shielded his intentions.

  But the matter was never fully investigated at the time. It wasn’t until Vivika imprinted upon her son from across the Veil and decided to teach him a few Witch Hunter powers in the process that the Nine took notice.

  “Well?” asks Houston as I leave my office.

  “The date is correct. You might want to look up those tutorials.”

  He flips his laptop around to show me his monitor. “Already on it, boss. Actually looks pretty simple.”

  “Why don’t you take the next couple of days off to study? I’ll call Anastasia and see if she wants more hours.”

  “I’ll be good.”

  “Houston…”

  “Nancy, I either know this stuff or I don’t. Trying to cram isn’t my thing. All that will do is make me worry about the stuff I don’t know and forget the stuff that I do.”

  “That is…surprisingly enlightened.”

  “It’s what Uncle Harold always told me when I was in school and would panic about a test.”

  “How is your uncle?” Houston shrugs. “I realize you aunt wants nothing to do with me, but if your uncle needs to talk to someone I am sort of trained in family counseling.”

  “I already told him that. But he just…he’s just working a lot.”

  Anastasia comes bouncing into the store. Houston shuts his laptop without even powering down. “I got a car!” she exclaims. “My brother Brian go
t a new car and he gave me his old one! And it is all mine and I just have to put the gas in it and stuff.”

  “That’s awesome,” I say. “What kind is it?”

  “Blue!”

  Houston and I look at each other. “Is it parked outside?” I ask.

  “Yes!”

  We go outside to see Anastasia’s dad standing next to a blue 1999 Honda Accord. Mostly blue. Except for the large areas covered in primer.

  “Okay, Margaret. Nancy had a chance to see the car. I’m going.” He gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Be back to pick you up at closing.”

  “In my car!”

  “So, you are just gonna drive this to work and home, right?” asks Houston as he peeks inside to check the odometer. “Only 212,000 miles.”

  “Yeah, only,” says her father. “No, I’m taking it over to Russ’s shop to get some work done on it and make sure it’ll pass inspection.”

  “Well, on the bright side they only test for emissions now.”

  “Yep. That’s why it’s going in the shop.”

  Margaret is Anastasia’s real name. She’s adopted Anastasia as her “spiritual” name. She says goodbye to her dad and goes into the shop. Houston follows after her as a pair of customers approach the door.

  “I’m sure you are thrilled Brian gave her his old car,” I say.

  “Oh yeah. Just thrilled my son pawned off this piece of junk on me to fix. Only reason he gave it to her was because the dealer wouldn’t take it as a trade-in.”

  “Well at least now I know what to get her for Christmas. A gift card to Pep Boys.”

  He takes a look at the car. “She’s gonna need a lot of gift cards.”

  As soon as he drives off, a squirrel jumps off the roof and almost lands on my head. I jump out of the way. The squirrel lands in front of me, takes a step forward, and then starts to walk away. It gets three or four feet away and then stops and stares at me. My first thought is that I need to call animal control since unusual animal behavior is a potential sign of rabies.

  The squirrel tilts its head and moves toward me, only to stop again. It then turns around and starts to walk, looking over its shoulder.

  I activate the Third Eye incantation and realize it is someone’s familiar. “You want me to follow you?” The squirrel jumps up and down in place. “Gimme a second.”

  I open the door to the shop and tell Houston I have to go to a meeting. He waves in acknowledgment and goes back to waiting on the customers.

  The squirrel is pacing on the sidewalk.

  “I’m coming! Geesh.”

  I follow the squirrel to a nearby diner. It stops at the door, jumps up and down a few times, and then rushes off. I go inside and request a booth, telling the waitress that I am expecting someone. As few minutes after I sit down, a woman sits across from me in the booth. Her hair is pale blonde, almost white. Her eyes are a piercing blue with a golden halo around the iris. She’s wearing a dress that is a size too big for her and a pair of sandals that don’t match.

  “I am Ja’Shan Kil Nashema Vo, personal assistant of Vice-Chancellor Gavin. He has bade me come to you on his behalf for speaking.” She tries to adjust the top of the dress so it doesn’t droop too much. “I regret appearance. Could not enter in my natural state and had to take human form. Grabbed this on the way. Humans do not allow you in building naked.”

  “No, we tend to frown on that. It’s nice to meet you.”

  When he said he would call me back, I didn’t quite expect him to send a naga. The waitress comes over to take our orders. I order coffee. Ja’Shan orders sugar water. “She means Coke,” I say to the waitress. “It’s a little joke between us.”

  “Coke is acceptable. A pitcher, please.” The waitress leaves with our order. Ja’Shan looks down at the table and tilts her head. “Yes, I am here,” she says. “Of course.” She looks up at me. “Master can hear you through me. Please explain the Inquest situation for him. He was not aware.”

  “If I may, why are we having this conversation like this?”

  “Master fears The Nine may have your electronics monitored. He did not want to speak of such things over devices if listening by others can be done.”

  “Okay, I should start from the beginning, then.”

  I explain my surprise interview from the Lord Advocate of the Ninth of the Nine regarding Houston.

  “Master apologizes for thinking ill of you. Master thought Chancellor was playing favorites because of your esteemed mother to give your apprentice quick rank. He now understands you were not aware of patronage.”

  “Thanks, I think.” The waitress brings our drinks over. Ja’Shan opens several packets of sugar and begins to stir them into her Coke. I order two pieces of cheesecake. “Did you fly all the way here?”

  “Yes,” says Ja’Shan. “Was necessary so as not to alert individuals yet unknown to this communication.”

  “You can have both pieces of cheesecake.”

  Naga have a dual physiology. Naga are effectively immortal, requiring neither air nor food in their native forms. But when forced into a physical form, they require unique foods to hold those forms together. There are dozens of naga sub-races. Each has its own unique need in physical form. Some consume alcohol. Others consume salt. One sub-race even requires gold. Thankfully, all Ja’Shan wants is sugar.

  I kind of feel bad for Ja’Shan. She seems to be bound in servitude and not a free associated minion. It’s always been a debate in the College of Evocation whether or not demons should be forced to serve or allowed free will. I understand binding a demon that is running across the countryside killing people and causing havoc. But enslaving one to be a personal assistant? Just not right in my opinion.

  “Master says the approval for apprentice Vaughn’s trial came from the Lord Advocate of the Eighth of the Nine.”

  “Why is the College of Psionics interested in an Evocation apprentice?”

  “His mother held Rank Two in the College of Psionic and caused his manifestation to appear. Perhaps it is that they may wish in the future for him to follow in their tradition.”

  “They are not stealing my apprentice.”

  “Should the Eighth of the Nine personally intervene, it may not be your decision.”

  “And that might depend on what the Third of the Nine has to say,” I growl.

  “Master approves of your position and will moving forward take into consideration this. Inquires shall be made within and with the Chancellor directly. Master has reason to suspect the Chancellor has not been advised either, and he shall disapprove of such.”

  “Well, I approve of his disapproval.”

  I order another pitcher of Coke for Ja’Shan.

  June 13th

  “Okay, remember, it isn’t a timed test. So take your time. You won’t be allowed to go back and change your answers,” I say as I pay the toll into Philadelphia.

  “I know,” says Houston.

  “And they will know if you try to look something up on WitchNet so don’t.”

  “I can use Wikipedia, though.”

  “Houston!”

  “I’m messing with you!”

  “Why am I more nervous about this than you are?”

  “Because if I fail, I just have to wait a year to take it again. But you’ll have to live with the embarrassment of trying to rush me into the trials only to look like an idiot because I wasn’t ready.”

  “You…are…NO help.”

  “Is it weird that I still find it crazy how many witches there are? And that nobody knows?”

  “There aren’t as many of us at it seems. We just tend to congregate in metropolitan areas.”

  “There are a dozen people taking the Rank Five trials today. And there is another round of testing in November that has eighteen people. And there is a Rank Four trial scheduled for March that has twelve people.”

  “Not all of those people live in the area, Houston. People travel to the closest test location.”

  “I guess. Still weird. An
d then it isn’t even just witches, though. Have you ever met a werewolf?”

  “Once.”

  “Really?”

  “He was studying environmental sciences when I was in college. We went out a few times.”

  “You dated a werewolf? You could make a fortune writing paranormal erotica I bet.”

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  “Just saying.”

  “We only went out a couple of times! There was no erotica, paranormal or otherwise, going on.”

  “What about a vampire?”

  “No, can’t say I ever met a vampire. Nor would I want to.”

  “So you’re cool with werewolves but not vampires.”

  “Werewolves don’t look at you as food.”

  Houston looks out the window as we drive to the guild hall for his trial. “Thanks for this.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome. Not going to let you go to your trials by yourself. Wouldn’t be much of a patron if I did that.”

  “No, I mean, thank you. For everything.” He takes a deep breath and holds it in before exhaling. “It’s hard. Not feeling right about where you are. Aunt Ruth and Uncle Harold. They tried, you know. They did what they could. But they had April, and she was always so sick. And I was…I was always in the way. You know Aunt Ruth was six was Grannie Henni died?”

  “I saw that on the family tree.”

  “I remember one night Aunt Ruth and Uncle Harold had a big fight. April was in the hospital again. She wanted Uncle Fred to take me but he had said no. She blamed Mom for Grannie Henni dying. She said Mom murdered her because she was evil. Said she died on purpose just to burden her with me.”

  “I’m sorry, Houston. People say things sometimes when they are upset. I’m sure she didn’t mean that.”

  “It’s Okay. I get it now. I think Aunt Ruth knew Grannie was a witch. I mean, she had to, right? And she knew Mom was a witch. That’s a lot for a person to process. And she probably didn’t know about the hereditary magic rules and stuff so she probably thought I was then. I think she blamed me for April always being sick. I wonder if Grandpa Roland knew? I mean about Mom?”

  “Your mother registered with the College of Psionics at, what, 14? She would have needed your grandfather to sign off on her apprenticeship.”