nancy werlock's diary s01 - episodes 1-7

by Julie Ann Dawson

  “Thank you, Lord Advocate. I do like to have all my paperwork buttoned up.”

  “I guess all those years dealing with the government and insurance companies paid off.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I sense the lemure’s presence. My Esteemed will remain in your phone to serve as a monitor. Don’t worry. He won’t know I’m here.”

  Lee gets in the car as I hang up the phone. “So, how do I look?” he asks nervously.

  “You…you look great.”

  “You seem more nervous than me.”

  “Well, this was my idea. If it goes bad it’s my fault.”

  “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath and looks down at his lap. “It’s going to be fine.”

  With the Esteemed listening, I don’t feel like even making small talk. I let Lee play with the radio. He sets it to the sports station. He occasionally mutters something in disagreement with the talk show host.

  We get to the site. “Is Houston going to be here?” Lee asks.

  “Ah, yeah. He’s still helping his Uncle out until he finds someone permanent.”

  “Permanent,” Lee repeats.

  “Yeah.”

  Houston actually meets us at the edge of the driveway. “Hey, boss!” He reaches out to shake Lee’s hand. “Good to see you again, man.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You too.”

  “You’re gonna be fine.”

  “You would know, right?”

  “Come on. My Uncle’s waiting.”

  Houston leads Lee into the barn. He’s pointing at the ceiling as if to explain some of the work that will be expected. And with Lee looking at the ceiling, he doesn’t realize he stepped into a Binding Circle.

  Before he has a chance to realize what is happening, I employ the Static Form incantation to prevent him from fleeing the body and trying to escape. So long as he is in the Binding Circle, he won’t be able to change forms.

  He spins around and glares at me. His body tenses up and a rush of black smoke comes from him as he activates his Dread Aura.

  “What the Hell?” says Houston as he jumps backwards. For a second, I think he’s going to turn and run. I’m surprised in fact that he doesn’t. For that matter, I’m surprised I didn’t run. Ye gods know I want to.

  The white area of his eyes is completely black now. “Are you proud of yourself, Warlock?” he screams at me. The wind is kicking up. I start the Broken Will incantation. A pitchfork flies toward my direction and barely misses me.

  I swear if I survive this I’m going to kill Houston. He was supposed to make sure anything dangerous was secure.

  Houston grabs a shovel and moves toward me. He swings and deflects a couple of buckets that get thrown at me. “Damn, I’m glad I played baseball in high school,” he mutters as he swings and deflects a crowbar.

  I continue the incantation, thankful that Houston did play baseball and angry that he left so many obvious weapons lying around. Blood is coming from Lee’s eyes at this point as he fights against the magic.

  The barn becomes unnaturally dark as Lee starts to conjure an area of darkness. He’s only chance is to try to blind us so we can’t see from what direction projectiles are coming. Fortunately, we expected that and I had taught Houston a Light Ward. He performs the incantation to chase away the otherworldly darkness. If I wasn’t in the middle of trying to break a demon’s will, I would have applauded him successfully performing his first real incantation in a non-practice setting.

  Lee spits up blood as his head lolls backwards and forwards. He finally looks at me with defeated eyes. I finish the incantation with the final words I never wanted to say.

  “Kneel, Servitor.”

  He kneels before me. Houston collapses to the ground exhausted. I sit in the dirt. “I am so sorry.”

  My phone rings. I don’t answer it. I don’t need to. The voice of the Esteemed comes over the phone.

  “Protocol 007-129-1239-1000-1452 initiated. Please stand by. A pinpoint of light lifts up off of my phone, slowly growing in size to that of a basketball as it floats around the barn. Protocol 007-129-1239-1000-1452 completed. Binding finished. Protocol 9213-000-6427-3284-1473 initiated. Please wait while you are connected.

  “Well done, Madame Warlock. It’s as if you never left the craft,” says Lord Advocate Braun. “An impressive display from your apprentice as well. Few Rank Five warlocks would have stood by their patron against the Dread Aura.”

  Houston manages a half-measured wave of acknowledgement toward the ball of light.

  “Balog nad Ipľom, now bound in flesh and blood as Servitor Lee Brennon, face me.” Lee turns to face the light. “Answer truthful, demon. Do you have any previous pact with your mistress?”

  “Rub it in, witch.” Says Lee as he spits toward the light.

  “Answer him!” I say.

  “No. We had no pact. I…thought we had an understanding. I guess I was wrong.”

  Way to make me feel even more guilty.

  “Exceptionally well done, Madame Warlock. Congratulations, and welcome to Rank Two. Your mother will be proud of you.”

  “Thank you, Lord Advocate.”

  The light dissipates as the Esteemed disconnects from my phone.

  “You alright?” I ask Houston.

  “Arms are a little sore from deflecting farm tools. I don’t need to hit the gym today.”

  “Well whose job was it to secure anything dangerous? I almost got impaled with a pitchfork!”

  “When you said the Lord Advocate was going to be personally supervising, I figured I needed to make it look good.”

  “Make it look good? I didn’t have enough drama around this so you decided to make it harder?”

  “Easier,” says Lee. “Can I get up now?”

  “Lee, I’m sorry. Yes. Get up. I am so sorry. You must hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Look, this will all work out. I don’t expect anything out of you. Just stay with your parents and do what you’ve been doing. Houston’s uncle really does need someone. If you want the job it’s yours. Houston already talked to him about you. Well, not about you everything about you. But…”

  “Yeah, we already talked about it.” Lee wipes the blood off of his face. “Can I get a shower at your house before I go home? Change of clothes, maybe?”

  “Yes, of course. Houston probably has something that will fit you. I’ll make dinner. Something quick. Pasta maybe.”

  “We can just order pizza,” says Houston. We still got to drive all the way back yet and we’re all tired as Hell.”

  “Yeah, maybe we’ll order…wait…what do you mean you already talked about it?” I ask Lee.

  “Houston and I have a pact.”

  “Didn’t want to tell her now, dude!”

  “I have to answer her! I’m compelled to!”

  “You have a pact? What?”

  “It was Houston’s idea.”

  “What!?”

  “I figured out a loophole that solved your problem!”

  “What…did…you…do?”

  “Nancy, calm down.”

  “What did he do?”

  “We were talking at the gym about you.”

  “The gym?”

  “Yeah, Houston told me what the higher ups were making you do and you didn’t want to. And the thing is I told you I didn’t want trouble with you people. But then Houston suggested there might be a workaround seeing as that you know you were already in my business anyway and…”

  “I made a pact with him that once I inherited him I would free him.”

  “In exchange for what? What did you offer him?”

  “Nothing. In exchange for him swearing to be good.”

  “Be good?”

  “The pact is that he gets his freedom so long as he doesn’t go all Sauron on humanity.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t word the pact like that?”

  “But we had to make it look good so...”

  “Sorry about the pitchfork,
” says Lee. “It was a little closer than I anticipated but it didn’t have a lot of force behind it.”

  “So, you two planned this all out…at the gym? What, between sets while spotting each other?”

  They both nod.

  “I need a nap,” I say as I fall backwards into the dirt.

  Possession is 9/10th of the Law

  August 8th

  “I think something has possessed my sister,” blurts out Isabel. No “Hey, Nancy. Fancy meeting you here.” No “Small world, huh?” No “So, how have you been doing since I conspired with my sister to steal your patients out from under you?” Just a blunt statement in the Shoprite produce aisle.

  Isabel is the receptionist at the office complex where I previously ran my marriage and family counseling practice. Her sister Gina, excuse me, Reverend Coleman, talked Isabel into badmouthing me in an effort to steal patients for her South Jersey Christian Family Resource Center. Woman isn’t even a licensed therapist. Just some woman with too much free cash and an online ordination.

  It actually takes me a moment to process what Isabel said. Perhaps thinking I didn’t hear her, she repeats the statement.

  “Possessed? What do you mean by possessed?” I’m trying to feign indifference by examining the tomatoes.

  “She hasn’t been herself recently. Talking strange. In tongues.”

  “I thought that was sort of a thing with her type?”

  “That’s what she says. It’s the Lord talking through her. But, I don’t think so.”

  I put the tomatoes in my cart and slowly move up the aisle. Isabel follows after me. “Besides speaking in tongues, what else is she doing?”

  “I think she’s cutting herself. On the palms. Like stigmatas.”

  “Have you actually seen her do it?”

  “Not exactly. But during service last Sunday she was preaching and put her hands down behind the altar. And when she held them up again they were bleeding.”

  “What did everyone do?”

  “They praised Jesus.”

  I lean on my cart. “Isabel, is it possible she’s just faking it? Putting on a show?”

  “Why would she do that?”

  I refrain from saying, “Because she is a charlatan and a fraud that should have her internet ordination revoked” and instead settle on “Perhaps she thinks it’s good for building the congregation.”

  “But you, you know about this sort of stuff, right? You could look at her and tell, right?”

  I coax Isabel into a relatively empty aisle. “OK, repeat after me. ‘Nancy, would you please exorcise a demon from my sister the reverend.’”

  Isabel stammers for a moment. “Nancy, would you please…this does sound awful doesn’t it?”

  “I’m sure that your sister is fine, Isabel. Evangelicals can seem a little peculiar at times but they really are generally harmless.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “Look, if something really inexplicable happens, you know the number at the shop. Just call me.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry I bothered you in the grocery store.”

  August 9t

  “Good morning, Three Wishes Boutique. This is Nancy.”

  “I think something has possessed my sister,” says Isabel over the phone. “I mean it this time.”

  Isabel’s phone etiquette sure is slacking these days. “What happened now?” I ask.

  “She’s levitating.”

  I put her on hold. “Anastasia, give me a minute to get in my office and then transfer that call to me.” She nods at me as she finishes ringing up an order. I go into my office and pick up the phone. “What do you mean by levitating?”

  “Not real high,” says Isabel. “Just a few inches.”

  “Where did this happen?”

  “At the center during service.”

  “Wait, who else saw this?”

  “Everyone that was there.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They praised Jesus.”

  I put Isabel on hold again and take several breaths to keep from screaming obscenities. “Where is she now?”

  “She’s in a group Bible study session.”

  “But she’s otherwise fine? No exhaustion. Dehydration. Dizziness?”

  “No. She seems dizzy right after the service, but then she’s fine after a few minutes.”

  “How many services does she do a week?”

  “She does a small service every night at 8 PM, and of course the traditional Sunday service.”

  “Can you get me into the chapel before the service to perform a survey?”

  “I…I don’t know. She doesn’t like you. With you being...well...you and all. I don’t think she would let me give you a tour of the Center. Let alone let you in the chapel. Can’t you just look at her and tell?”

  “I could, but that wouldn’t be enough to actually fix anything if there is something wrong. I need to survey the area where the events are happening to get an idea of what we are dealing with.”

  “Oh, wait. She has a meeting tomorrow with some folks from Elim. They’re going to lunch around Noon.”

  “I’ll be there at 12:15 then.”

  In the second between Isabel hanging up and me hanging up, I hear a faint click in the line. I walk out of the office and Anastasia is pretending to straighten up a curio shelf. “You were listening in on my phone call.”

  Anastasia turns bright red. “I…I…I didn’t mean to!”

  “You didn’t mean to? Did the phone get stuck to your ear?”

  “I’m sorry. You just had that look on your face, and then before I hung up I heard you say something about levitation, and I was like ‘oh my God somebody levitated’ and I wanted to learn and I am so sorry please don’t fire me!” Her eyes start tearing up.

  “I’m not going to fire you, Anastasia. I’m just disappointed. You know better.”

  “I just got excited.”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, but there was no levitation.”

  “But the other lady said someone was levitating.”

  “You want to learn about real magic, right?” She nods rapidly. “If you are ever going to learn about real magic, you first have to know how to identify fake magic. Otherwise you’ll never be able to distinguish fact from fiction.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think it’s time for you to come with me for your first exorcism survey.”

  August 10th

  “Why did we bring Anastasia?” thinks Houston as we watch Gina get in her car and leave the Center.

  “Gina’s not possessed, Houston. You can tell by looking at her,” I think back to him.

  “Yeah, I can see that. But why bring her on this when you know there is nothing here.”

  “Exactly. She needs to learn that magic isn’t real.”

  “Says the demonologist having a psychic conversation with her apprentice.”

  “This is so exciting!” says Anastasia from the back seat.

  “Now just remember, it is very important that you not touch anything or say anything during the survey. If there is a presence here, it may try to latch on to you,” I say, trying to convey the appropriate amount of false dread.

  “Got it! Totally quiet!”

  As part of our preparations for the survey, I had Anastasia search YouTube for any videos of the sermons. Gina has been performing these “fits of the Holy Spirit” for a few weeks now. Eventually someone in the congregation would want to record them and post on YouTube. She found one of Gina speaking in tongues. The video claimed she was speaking the language of angels. It sure didn’t sound like Aetherial to me. Granted, I only took the one seminar of Aetherial and it was fifteen years ago, but I at least passed the class and would recognize it if I heard it. Gina sounded like a cross between gibberish and pig Latin.

  The video didn’t show any levitation or stigmata, however.

  We meet Isabel at a side door. She leads us into the main chapel. Neither Houston nor I detect an
y evidence of otherworldly entities. Isabel follows us around at a short distance. I look at the way the chapel is set up. The stage has two parts, the main stage which is about four feet above the audience, and smaller platform only a few inches off the ground. The altar is on the main stage. According to Isabel, the levitation happened on the smaller stage.

  The lower platform is about eight feet from the pews. I ask Isabel where Gina was standing when she levitated. She shows me the spot. From that position, the pews are at a 45 degree angle.

  “Houston, sit there,” I point at one of the pews. “Isabel and Anastasia, you two sit over there.” I stand on the platform at the designated spot with me. “Let’s see if I remember how to levitate.”

  In college, I dated a theatre major named Keith O’Sullivan. He wasn’t a good actor, but he had great abs. But he also did some stage magic. He liked to try to impress me by demonstrating various illusions and tricks. It was endearing at first. But it got annoying after a while. It’s hard to be impressed with the twenty-fifth demonstration of the vanishing coin when your mom can summon demons and force them to paint the house.

  Anastasia giggles with excitement as Isabel gasps. “You levitated!” exclaims Anastasia.

  “Not quite,” I say. I wave for Isabel to come up to the platform. “It’s called the Balducci Levitation. It’s an optical illusion.” I show Isabel how to position her feet to perform the trick, and not long thereafter she is “levitating” as well.

  “So she is faking it,” says Houston. “But what about the stigmata?”

  I point toward the altar and motion for them to follow me. Behind the altar on a concealed shelf is a small wooden box about six inches long. The top of the box comes off to reveal two ink bottles with spongy tops, the type you would find in a craft store. I press my palms against the tops and end up with dark red ink dripping from my hands.

  “I feel like I’m part of the Scooby gang,” says Anastasia.

  Houston removes one of the bottles from the box. “Water-based. So she goes into her office immediately afterwards because she’s allegedly exhausted, then uses her private restroom to wash up and get rid of the ink.”