nancy werlocks diary s02e13 (2 page)

“Madame Warlock, did you send a demon to kill Shaun Williams?”

“No, of course not.”

“Did you send a demon to kill LeAnne Williams?”

“No. I…did…not. I didn’t even want them to arrest her.”

“Why is that?”

“You know why. It’s why you’re here. Because all it takes is a single fanatic to strike a match and set off a powder keg. I wanted to diffuse the situation. I didn’t want to create a circus. I already knew their lawyer was willing to make our spirituality a spectacle over a drunk-driving charge. I can only imagine what the result would have been of a court case. I didn’t want her charged. But the DA made that call. She killed herself before I even had a chance to talk to him.”

“I’ll need a copy of the police report for the official investigation.”

“When I spoke with Officer Lopez yesterday, he said they would have the report ready for me in a few days. As soon as I get a copy, I will forward it to you.”

* * *

Houston looks like he hasn’t slept in a week when he walks in the door. “I’m really getting not to like Justicars on principle,” he says as he hands me a pint of Friendly’s double chocolate ice cream and a plastic spoon.

“WOW, you really are a mind reader,” I reply. “It was going to be either ice cream or wine tonight.”

“Well, I figured you should stay sober. At least for now.”

“It’s okay if I get fat, though?”

“You can always come to the gym with me.” He collapses onto the couch. “Besides, the way I figure it the only man that has a right to comment on the size of your ass is Lee. And I think he is physically incapable of doing so.”

“I’ll share if you want some.”

“That’s all you, Boss.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “Hannity doesn’t think we did anything, which considering we didn’t is a good thing.”

“Did he tell you that after the interview?”

“He didn’t have to. Justicar or not, he’s still just a Mesmer. They’re all Jedi Mind Trick. I’m Professor X.”

“What did I tell you about poking around in people’s heads?”

“I didn’t poke around in his head. I’ve gotten really good at reading auras. He believes us.”

“I sense a ‘but’ in there.”

“But…I get the feeling there is something else going on. He made a point of saying that they had to do a thorough investigation to avoid the semblance of impropriety.”

“He made similar comments to me.”

“Well, you only make comments like that if you know people are watching. So…who have we pissed off recently?”

“I can’t think about this now. Not with…not with everything else going on.”

“We’re going to have to at some point.”

“By the gods, I never should have let the Archmage talk me into taking my Rank Two trials. It’s the one thing Mom always complained about was the backstabbing politics that come with the rank. I didn’t want this crap.”

“Yeah. We don’t always get what we want, Nancy.”

Houston gets up from the couch and goes upstairs to his room.

Judgement Day

October 30
^th
,

Tomorrow, I’m going to kill my apprentice’s mother.

Technically, she’s already dead. It’s just her blackened soul that has been lingering around. But still…

I know that this needs to be done. Vivika’s entire existence has been an elaborate lie. In the late 18
^th
century, she was Chana Magus, head of the school of Haemomancy. Blood magic. Back then, they were a school within the College of Necromancy that had good intentions. In that time, medicine focused on the study of humors. Haemomancers studied the mysteries of the blood to help “cleanse” the humors of a person and heal them. Her work eventually led to the development of a process through which a person could “consume” latent residual energies off of other living things to heal or slow the aging process. Humans produce a lot of “waste” spiritual energy, most of which simply dissipates into the environment. The research allowed a witch to actually convert that waste energy into physical sustenance. It was revolutionary research with so much potential to do good.

But you know the cliché about Hell and good intentions.

Eventually, residual energies were not enough and, in her obsession to extend her life, Chana Magus began siphoning all of the life force out of her victims. The College of Necromancy finally deemed the magic Forbidden and purged the entire school.

But Chana Magus had escaped by jumping bodies using a ritual called Soul Jar. Through the centuries, she would take over the body of an unborn descendent of her bloodline and be reborn. And with each incarnation she grew more and more powerful. However, her plan hit a snag when Lord Advocate Joshua Brynwolf finally put all of the pieces together and arranged for her to be killed before she had a chance to jump bodies again.

But what they didn’t know is that she had donated her eggs to her sister Ruth so she could have a baby. Vivika was reborn in Houston’s cousin/sister April and would have continued on with her stolen immortality had it not been for the fact that her host body succumbed to leukemia.

For months, Houston and I had thought Vivika’s obsession with him settling down and starting a family was nothing more than obsessive mothering from beyond the grave. It was actually desperation. She wasn’t after a grandchild. She was after an empty shell to take over. Unlike most witches, psions pull their power from their own spiritual reservoirs. While they can learn to tap other sources of energy, it isn’t as easy for them. Because of this, they can’t naturally linger after death like Mom or Nanna. She needs a host body to stabilize herself. In the interim, she has been killing other witches and draining their lifeforce.

Houston has barely spoken to anyone in the last two days. He and Eric took the train to New York City yesterday to blow off some steam. Eric said he spent the whole night just drinking and sulking. The few times he has spoken to me, he has been resolute in that he will see this through. “She has to die,” he says. His eyes look so cold when he says it.

It hurts to see him like this. Ever since he first came into his powers, he’s managed to take everything in stride. Despite only really learning about the world of witches in April of this year, he’s adapted in his easygoing, snarky way. But finding out that everything his mother had told him was a lie; that she had been hiding in April the entire time; that she had tried to manipulate and abuse his trust for her own ends; that even now she has been killing other witches to prolong her own existence…I worry this might break him. And I won’t be able to put him back together.

Sweet Rhea, mothers are supposed to protect their children. Not consume them. Watch over him in these final hours and give him the care his own mother never did.

October 31
^st
,

“Why is Red Turtle here?” asks Vivika as she manifests near the ritual site I established by the cairn. The old man is sitting on a rock formation in a pair of weathered blue jeans and a flannel jacket, drinking a beer and petting the wolf sitting next to him. He nods to me in acknowledgement.

“The cairn is his to protect, Vivika. As the Hierophant of this area, did you really think he was going to let a ritual like this go down and not be here to make sure the cairn is protected?”

Red Turtle is a Leni Lenape shaman and guardian of the cairn, which is considered sacred by his tribe. Though he is not officially a member of any of the colleges, nobody questions his magical prowess or challenges his authority to protect the cairn. The last person that tried found himself living as a squirrel for a week as a lesson in humility.

The Archmage doesn’t like to discuss it, from what I understand.

He mutters something under his breath in Unami and shakes his head. “You will not consume more than is necessary to capture this fiend,” he says as he crosses his arms in front of him. “I will
not
allow it.”

“You told him what we are doing?”

“Vivika, I had to. Nobody conducts rituals this close to the cairn without Red Turtle’s approval.”

“This site is Holy to my people, spirit. It will not be defiled,” he says.

Vivika studies Red Turtle’s face and then turns her attention to the wolf. The wolf tilts its head and returns her stare with a curious expression.

“Don’t mind him,” says Red Turtle has he pats the wolf on the head. “He’s just here to keep an old man company.”

“I didn’t think there were many wolves left in New Jersey,” says Vivika.

“Some would say they didn’t think there were any witches, either,” he replies.

Houston places the ritual kit on the ground and glares at his mother. “This is your show. What do we do first?”

“Everything needs to be done to exacting measures,” says Vivika without looking away from Red Turtle. “One mistake and Brynwolf gets away. Or worse.”

“That is now the two-hundred and eight-fourth time you’ve reminded us,” says Houston. “I think we get it.”

Vivika finally turns her attention to her son. “I will make this up to you, Houston. Somehow. Some way. When this is over I will make this right. There is so much I regret when it comes to you.”

Houston doesn’t reply. He removes the salt from the kit and begins creating the ritual circle in a clockwise direction. I then create a second circle around the first using metal shavings, moving in a counter-clockwise direction. In the space between the two circles, we place the various crystals and components of the ritual to Vivika’s precise directions.

I carefully step over the borders into the circle, creating a triangle figure in powdered saffron. Houston hands me the griffin eggs and I place them in the center of the triangle. I step out of the circle and check my watch.

“We’re ahead of schedule,” says Houston. “Can we start and get this over with?”

“No,” says Vivika. “We can’t start the ritual until exactly 6:32. That will be the optimum point between day and night. He’s going to resist the summoning, so we’ll need every advantage. What time is it now?”

“6:09,” I say.

“Thank you, Nancy,” says Vivika. “I know I have…been difficult. I’ve never been good about asking for help. Needing others to do things for me…I’m just not good about showing appreciation.”

“We’ll get all of the apologies out of the way
after
we’ve dealt with Brynwolf,” I say.

“Of course. It is just…no matter what happens; I wanted you to know that you have my sincere gratitude. I’m glad Houston found you and that you took him as an apprentice.”

Red Turtle’s wolf huffs audibly and rolls over on its back.

“I need a cool animal companion,” says Houston as he watches the wolf. “What level do I need to be to get one?”

“You’re so weird,” I say and smile.

The wolf sits up suddenly and barks in Houston’s direction.

“I think it likes me!”

“He was agreeing with your patron,” says Red Turtle.

“So much for your animal companion,” I say.

“Fine. I’ll just get a succubus.”

“No!” Vivika and I say in unison.

“You two are no fun these days.”

“Time?” asks Vivika.

“6:12.”

“I’m just gonna set the timer on my phone instead of listening to you ask what the time is ever two minutes,” says Houston.

“I am curious how this ritual is supposed to work,” asks Red Turtle. “You intend to capture this man, but he is not here? He is no spirit or demon and cannot be summoned.”

“His body can’t be summoned, but his spirit can,” says Vivika. “The ritual will capture him in the griffin eggs, leaving his body in a state of suspended animation wherever he is hiding. Once captured, we can then take the eggs directly to the Council and present our case. He won’t be able to harm anyone while bound. Because the spirit remains tethered to the body, however, the Council will be able to locate his physical form and secure it before passing final judgment.”

“This sounds like dangerous magic that could easily be abused.”

“All magic can be dangerous and all magic can be abused,” says Vivika. “But this ritual requires very specific ingredients and timing, not to mention skill and magical talent. Few witches have the ability to do what we are about to do, and fewer could probably afford to. Poor Nancy had to spend hundreds of dollars just on the components.”

“Thousands,” I correct. “Just over two thousand. And that isn’t counting the favors I had to call in.”

“It could have been worse,” says Houston. “Eric helped out with some of the components.”

“I had to give an imp to a Mesmer,” I remind him.

“That might not have been wise,” says Red Turtle.

“Wise or not, it saved me two-hundred bucks.”

Red Turtle says something in Unami and gestures toward the sky.

It isn’t until Houston’s timer goes off that I notice the flock of crows that had begun to congregate in the tree limbs above us. I ignore the crows and follow Vivika’s directions to prepare for the ritual. Vivika floats over the circle and positions herself above the eggs. I stand behind her at the northern point of the triangle while Houston stands directly across from me, facing his mother.

Red Turtle and his wolf observe.

Vivika begins to draw on the latent energies near the cairn and starts to chant the ritual. Houston and I repeat our lines for the ritual as I slowly draw my silver-threaded lariat from behind my back. I look across the ritual circle at Houston. He’s just focusing all his concentration on his mother as tears start rolling down his cheeks.

Just keep it together for a few more minutes
, I think to myself.
We can both have a nice, long nervous breakdown when this is done.

With Vivika fixated on her ritual, she doesn’t realize I have stopped following her lead. I quickly whisper a binding incantation and toss the lariat over her head and around her neck.

“What?” she shouts as I tighten the imbued lariat.

“Nice throw,” says Red Turtle.