nancy werlock's diary s01 - episodes 1-7

by Julie Ann Dawson

  “Our Seers foresaw that it was best for us to let others believe that until we had a better understanding of the entity that could be involved. And so the Sixth of the Nine initiated an Inquest to provide us with the necessary cover. We ruled out demonic influences, as demons tend to enslave souls and not consume them outright.”

  “Godling?”

  “We thought perhaps the family had been pledged to a god, who imprinted upon them their gifts in exchange for their souls. When people do not understand the eternalness of the spirit, they bargain it away cheaply. We have been trying to identify the entity in question.”

  “To try and stop it?”

  “No, it is not for us to interfere with the will of the divines. We only sought to understand and catalog the knowledge.”

  “And this is where our Colleges part ways, Theomancer. We don’t just catalog soul-sucking entities. We take action to stop them.”

  “And this is where our Colleges part ways, Warlock. We do not possess the hubris to command entities that existed before the dawn of mortal time.”

  “Boss, you there?” Houston thinks into my head.

  “I’m in a meeting.”

  “You have an incoming call.” My phone rings. “You need to answer it. It’s for my trial.”

  “Now?” I shake my head. “Excuse me, Theomancer. I have to get this. It’s my apprentice.” He waves a hand toward the phone and sits back in the chair patiently.

  “Nancy Werlock,” I say.

  “Oh, hi! My name is Risha, I’m a Telepath with the College of Psionics. I’m here with your apprentice. I just needed to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “Oh, I didn’t get an alert that his trial had been scheduled.”

  “We’re almost done, in fact.”

  “Really? You started my apprentice’s trial without telling me.”

  “Well, you aren’t a Psion so I didn’t see a reason to bother you with this.”

  “Just go with it.”

  “They started a trial without your permission?” asks Theomancer Mortellaro.

  “College of Psionics,” I say. “He already took his Demonology Rank Five.”

  “That makes sense now. Damnable psions.”

  “What can I do for you, Telepath…I didn’t get your last name?”

  “Oh, just call me Risha. No need to be stuffy. So, what color is he thinking?”

  “Blue.”

  “Blue.”

  “And a number from one to a hundred.”

  “69.”

  Houston!”

  “What?”

  “69.”

  “Yeah. And where are we eating lunch?”

  “T.G.I. Friday’s.”

  “You are performing his Rank Five trials at T.G.I. Friday’s?”

  “Great! Thank you so much. Houston is awesome. He has amazing telepathic range for someone so new to the gift. And his aura reading is off the charts.”

  “She’s hot for me.”

  “I don’t need to be a psion to get that, thanks.”

  “She’s cute.”

  “Lovely, I’m sure your mother will approve.”

  “I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing. Thank you so much.”

  I hang up the phone and take a deep breath. “Well, that happened.”

  “Is everything alright with your apprentice?”

  “He’s fine. It sounds like he passed their sorry excuse for a trial.”

  “Then back to the discussion at hand. The return of Vivika has thrown our research into disarray. She did not exist in the spirit realm until the moment she returned to imprint upon her son. We have no idea where she was. We even had several yazata involved. They are a type of free associated angel who often assists us in matters of interest to both the heavens and the material plane.”

  “So she wasn’t just hiding somewhere? Imprisoned? Magically hidden.”

  “If she was in the spirit planes, the yazata would have sensed her even if they could not pinpoint her location.”

  “Maybe she was still on earth? Have you spoken with any Mediums?”

  “We sought the assistance of the College of Necromancy when first she died. We thought perhaps she lingered on the material plane to be with her son. He would have been a logical anchor. But the Necromancers could not find her on the material plane.”

  “This is all completely out of my specialty.”

  “I understand. My hope with coming here today was perhaps to have a chance to speak directly with your apprentice and to see if you had any other information. Even if you think it is not relevant. Sometimes those facts that seem least important are the missing puzzle pieces. He is your apprentice. There may be things known to you that fill in the blanks for us.”

  “How much do you know about Vivika’s family tree?”

  “The gift first manifested in the family with Wilma. Neither her mother nor grandmother had any talents. And there was no talent on the paternal side, either. We checked just to rule out sacrifices issued from the paternal side. It happens on occasion. The gift only manifested in one child per generation, however. This is an anomaly.”

  “Houston had a cousin who was a psion,” I blurt out. I probably shouldn’t have said it. And even as his eyes widen with surprise I mentally kick myself.

  “Who? None of his current family is registered. Is it an adept?”

  “No, she applied to the College of Psionics just before she died. She had leukemia. She died before her application was reviewed.”

  “Which is why she didn’t appear in any of the registers. But neither of Vivika’s siblings are psions. This makes less sense than more. The child’s parents knew, then?”

  “No. It was—”

  I hear a crash and Anastasia scream. I rush out of the office to find one of the glass cabinets knocked over and Anastasia shaking as she tries to clean it up.

  “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I didn’t touch it! I just walked by and it fell over and I jumped out of the way and it all fell over and I’m sorry!”

  “It’s alright.” I survey the damage after confirming Anastasia isn’t hurt. The cabinet fell toward her, not away. She didn’t bump it or knock into it. I check the legs of the cabinet. They are still attached firmly. The cabinet wasn’t overweight. It only had small crystal figurines in it.

  “You had a visitor,” Theomancer Mortellaro says. He points at the ground on the other side of the cabinet. I can’t activate the Third Eye incantation with Anastasia standing right next to me. But I don’t need to.

  “Why don’t you come over for dinner?” I say to him. “Houston will be there.”

  “You are kind. Sì, I would be honored.”

  * * *

  “Your mother is getting on my nerves,” I say to Houston as I cut up the chicken breast. “Anastasia could have been hurt.”

  “She’s putting all this effort into getting her way. I don’t know why she doesn’t just tell me what she wants?”

  “Because that would be simple. And gods forbid your mother do something the simple way.” I watch Houston study the instructions on the side of the box of rice. “The instructions didn’t change from the last two times you read it.”

  “I don’t want to screw it up. This guy is somebody important, right?”

  “He’s just a witch like us. And it’s boil in the bag, Houston. You would have to actively try in order to mess it up.”

  “Why don’t you just make pasta? That’s simple. We’ve got jars of sauce and—”

  “I am not serving spaghetti sauce from a jar to someone who lives in Italy.”

  “We could have just ordered take-out before he got here and put it on plates.”

  “Give me the box.”

  “I can do this!”

  “Didn’t you ever help your Aunt cook?”

  “No. Aunt Ruth is weird about people in her kitchen. She didn’t even like Uncle Harold being in there when she was cooking.”

  “At least you learned how
to do laundry.”

  Houston finally figures out how to boil water for the rice as I finish the stir-fry. While we wait for Mortellaro to arrive, Houston goes to his room and returns with a photo album. He opens up to a page and shows me a picture of him standing next to a little girl of around ten or eleven dressed like Glenda the Good Witch. She’s smiling and waving, but there are dark circles under her eyes.

  “I never showed you a picture of April,” he says.

  “Where is your costume?”

  “You don’t get to see those pictures.” He flips the page and there is another picture of him and April and what looks like a family cookout. She’s older and paler. Like her illness was catching up with her. He flips through more pictures. The last one appears to be a Christmas photo of Houston, Terri, and April. One of those professional photos parents subject their children to. April is smiling, but looks so weak. Houston almost looks like he is propping her up.

  “You two were close,” I say. He nods. “You know you two look like brother and sister. Particularly in the jaw and nose.”

  “Yeah, we got a lot of that. Aunt Ruth just stopped correcting people after a while. Wasn’t worth the effort.”

  “So where are the pictures of baby Houston? I want to see something embarrassing.”

  “I’m sorry, but those are classified.”

  I snatch the photo album from him and rush into the kitchen. He shouts after me as I quickly flip through the front of the album. “Oh, look! Naked baby in the tub!”

  “Figures, you’d go right for the nudes. Pervert.”

  “Wow, that’s Vivika?”

  “Yeah, that’s Mom.”

  I’m a bit taken aback by how...domestic...the photo is. She has a goofy grin on her face as she waves a toy boat covered in suds at the camera. Her hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail. She looks like she is beaming with contentment. Just a mom playing with her baby during bath time.

  Houston flips the page. “And no, you cannot post that photo on WitchNet,” he says as he points. It’s a photo of his first Halloween costume. Vivika is dressed up like the Wicked Witch of the West and Houston is in a heartbreakingly adorable monkey costume.

  “That...is...classic. I want a poster of this!”

  “No.”

  “You even have the little wings. Look!” I can’t help giggling.

  “Mom had a thing about the Wizard of Oz. Apparently my nursery was all Oz-themed. She had a whole bunch of collectibles. I don’t know what ever happened to them after she died.”

  “Your aunt may have them in storage. If you guys are on speaking terms again you could ask her.”

  “Yeah, maybe I will.”

  Mortellaro is late arriving. I call the hotel, but he doesn’t answer his room phone. Houston and I waste time by going through his photo album. I call the hotel again at 8 PM but still don’t get an answer. We decide to eat without him.

  Houston suggests calling the number on the card, but it simply dials the Theomancy Chantry in Rome. The woman who answers is polite, but hasn’t spoken to Mortellaro and doesn’t know how to reach him. Houston offers to drive over to the hotel, but I don’t see the point. For all I know, he’s deep in some meditation receiving messages from his yazata or whatever he called them.

  Around midnight, Houston rushes into my bedroom breathing and sweating like he just ran a marathon.

  “He’s...he’s dead,” says Houston as he shakes me awake. “He’s dead.”

  “Who? What? Who’s dead?”

  “That guy. Mortellaro. I was just there.”

  “What do you mean? Just where?” I stumble out of bed and throw on a robe.

  “I had a bad feeling. I know you said it wasn’t unusual but something didn’t feel right. So I projected over to the hotel. When I went into the room, he was on the floor.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Say? He didn’t say anything! He’s dead!”

  “Houston, calm down. You were there in your astral form, right? If he died during the night his spirit should have still been lingering around for a few hours. He would have seen you.”

  “There was nobody there.”

  I rush over to the phone and call Steve. I tell him to get someone over to the hotel because Mortellaro may not be dead. “He might be in a coma. He would have just looked dead.”

  “No, he’s dead.”

  “I’ll head over myself,” says Steve. “Ask Houston if he saw a halo on the body or any aura signatures.”

  “No,” Houston answers. “That is what I am telling you. No aura. No nothing. He’s dead.”

  “Damnit!” exclaims Steve. He hangs up.

  August 19th

  Mortellaro had a heart attack. Not unusual for a man of his age. At least, that is the official story from the hospital. Lansfield will perform a more detailed autopsy. Not sure what they will find. They still haven’t determined what happened to Sonny.

  More importantly, Mortellaro wasn’t a Justicar. The Council won’t be able to bury this easily.

  Houston is in his room. He spent the better part of the day being interrogated by Steve. Twice I expected them to start throwing punches at each other. Now he won’t talk to me.

  “Honey, maybe you should have your new Servitor move in until this is sorted out,” says Mom.

  “Because I don’t have enough drama?”

  “No, because you don’t have enough security. I’m worried about you.”

  “I upgraded all of the wards this morning.”

  “I’d feel better if the lemure was there. He’s sense anything coming through the astral plane before it even hit the wards.”

  “I don’t want to drag more people into this mess!”

  “Well, Nanna and I will stay close in case we can help.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Honey. Be careful.”

  Houston’s photo album is sitting on the coffee table in the living room. I start flipping through it. Normal, happy, healthy childhood. Then to be thrown into the deep end of the pool only a few months ago and have that entire normal life turned upside-down. He’s handling it better than I would, all things considered.

  I was stupid for taking him in as an apprentice. I should have referred him to the College of Psionics to begin with. They would have been in a better position to help him with his powers. I was stupid for chasing after the lemure and getting myself tied up in that nonsense. I was stupid for letting the Archmage and Vice-Chancellor rope me into their damn plotting.

  I am so in over my head.

  I come across a picture of Ruth with the kids. She knew about her sister’s powers, but never told Houston. I think back to my last conversation with Scott. He wanted the magic in our family to be done. He’s afraid of what might happen with the new baby. I understand now what really set Ruth off when Houston confronted her about Vivika. She wasn’t mad at Houston. She was terrified for him.

  She wanted the magic in her family to be done.

  There is a single picture in the album of Ruth, Vivika, and Frederick with their father. They are all dressed up in Halloween costumes. Vivika is maybe ten years old. She’s dressed like Dorothy and has a toy dog in a basket. How did such a cute and friendly-looking child grow up to be such a world-class pain in my ass?

  I come across the Halloween picture of April and Houston again. They look so much like brother and sister…

  I flip back to the image of Vivika, and then back to April again. April doesn’t look anything like Ruth or Harold. But she does look almost exactly like Vivika.

  * * *

  There is no good way this ends. I know that. Ruth doesn’t like me as it is because I’m the one who is helping Houston develop his magical ability. I’m sitting in my car across the street from her house, trying to work up the nerve to go knock on the door. This is going to be an extremely awkward conversation.

  I take a deep breath and force myself out of the car. I knock on the door and wait for Ruth to answer. “Hi!
Ruth. Um, Mrs. Hessman. I’m—”

  “I know who you are,” she says as she squints at me. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “It’s about Houston,” I say before she can slam the door in my face.

  “What’s happened to my nephew?”

  “Nothing, yet. But, can we talk inside?”

  “I don’t want you Devil people in my house.”

  “OK, can we talk in the back yard?”

  Ruth closes the door. A few moments later, she appears from the side of the house and leads me to the back yard. She offers me iced tea. We sit in uncomfortable silence on her patio for several minutes.

  “Ruth, you are aware of what I am?”

  “Yeah, you’re one of them demon worshippers. Just like she was.”

  “I’m not a demon worshipper, Ruth. I’m a demonologist. Which probably doesn’t sound all that different to you but it is very different.”

  “That a fact? Is that what you are teaching my nephew? Demonology?”

  “Think of it like…like someone who studies viruses. You try to understand them and learn to manipulate them so you can protect people from them.”

  “Only the Good Lord can protect people from demons, Ms. Werlock.”

  “OK, look. I know you don’t like me. That’s fine. And since you don’t like me there is nothing I can say to change your mind so I’m just going to ask. Was Vivika April’s mother?”

  “You need to leave.” Ruth stands up and walks toward the gate.

  “Ruth, it’s important.”

  “You need to leave, now!”

  “Vivika is still around, and she’s actively trying to keep Houston from learning something about April.”

  “My sister is dead.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Your sister was a very powerful psion. Death is just a nuisance to her.”

  “I will call the police if you don’t leave.”

  “I think Vivika may have killed someone.”

  “She wouldn’t…she wouldn’t hurt Houston. The only thing she ever cared about other than her own damn self was that boy.” She walks away from the gate as she shakes her head. “How’d you know? You use some dark magic?”

  “No magic. I’m a licensed family counselor. You aren’t the first sister to serve as a surrogate. But what I don’t understand is that normally these things are in the reverse. The younger sister serves as a surrogate for the older one.”