nancy werlock's diary s01 - episodes 8 (3 page)

“When did you talk to Eric?” I ask after Houston leaves.

“I didn’t,” says Anastasia. “I just knew that would get him to sign.”

I give Anastasia a high-five. “That’s my girl.”

“
Hold on, she didn’t talk to Eric,”
thinks Houston into my head. “
I just scanned her surface thoughts!”

“
What did I tell you about doing that?”
I reply. I hear a faint psychic grumbling before he cuts off communication.

“So why did your mom not like Halloween?”

“She just hated the commercialization of it. My mother was a pagan. Halloween is a religious holiday to us.”

“My mom says the same thing about Christmas. She flipped out last weekend when we went to Target and they had Christmas displays up already.” She straightens her shoulders and mimics her mother’s voice. “’It’s not even October yet and they have a Christmas tree already! Jesus H. Christ in Heaven!’”

“Be careful. I used to mimic my mom when I was your age.”

“What happened?”

“I turned
into
my mother.”

We both laugh. “I bet your mom was the coolest mom ever.”

“She would definitely say that was true.”

I leave Anastasia to wait on the customer that comes in the story and while I go check on Houston. He’s leaning against the wall and trying to look at something behind the shelves.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Something fell behind the shelf and I’m trying to see what it was.”

“Well, worry about it later. Did you find any more decorations?”

He shakes his head. “Looks like your mom only had the one box. Want me to run over WalMart and grab some stuff?”

“Nah, I’m sure it will be more than enough. No need to make the shop look like Halloween Adventures.”

“Does that mean no costumes then?”

“If you want to wear a costume I won’t stop you.”

“Cool. I was thinking male stripper. I could use the tips.”

“How about…no?”

“Fine. Fine. Take all the fun out of the holiday.”

Eric teleports into the stock room. “Sorry I’m late,” he says as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “Late night.”

“What did I say about teleporting without calling me first? Anastasia could have been in here!”

“I called but you didn’t answer the blower.”

I look him up and down. “Late night, hmm?”

“Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Houston hands Eric a box of potion bottles. “These need to go on the shelf near the oils.” He grabs another box. “Oh, and Anastasia wants money to become a zombie.”

“Um, say that again?”

“Anastasia is participating in a charity zombie walk,” I say. “She’s looking for pledges. It’s for the Food Bank.”

“Friend of mine got his wallet nicked in London last year at one of those. She’s not walking alone, is she?”

“A group of them from school are doing it.”

We all go back into the shop. I hear Anastasia telling a customer that she’ll give her a free tarot card reading for pledging.

“Did you give her permission to—” asks Houston.

“No.”

She bites her bottom lip when she sees my disapproving facial expression. Eric checks out the form and makes a pledge.

Eric comes into my office later and asks if we would be attending the Zombie Walk.

“I wasn’t planning on it. But you can go if you want. Houston and I can cover the shop.”

“I was just thinking that it’s close to the cairn. We could go cheer on our little zombie at the finish line and then go see the site. I’ve never been to an actual cairn before.”

“Oh, sure. That’s a great idea. We can—” I pause to process the severity of the situation. “The zombie walk is near the cairn.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No. No. You don’t understand. The zombie walk is
near
the cairn.”

“Uh huh.”

“The Veil is extremely thin near the cairn.”

“Right. That’s what Houston said.”

“There have been Thought Beasts seen near the cairn.”

“Sounds like a bloody good time, then. Maybe catch one of the buggers.”

“You aren’t following me, are you?”

I call Houston into the office. “What’s up, boss?”

“The zombie walk is near the cairn!”

Houston looks at me blankly for a moment, but then his eyes grow wide as he makes the connection. “Oh, crap.”

“Someone explain, please?” says Eric.

“The zombie walk is
near
the cairn!” says Houston. He grabs Eric by the shoulders. “Think. A hundred people dressed like zombies, in an area of mystical power where the Veil is extremely thin, known to have Thought Beasts spontaneously manifest.”

“I’m a Traveler, mate. I don’t get it the problem.”

“Thought Beasts manifest based on the beliefs or strong emotions of a community. A hundred people, dressed as zombies, celebrating all-things-zombie, in an area where entities take the form of what people are thinking.”

“Bollocks.”

“I have to call Lansfield,” I say.

September 17
^th

Archmage Haverson, Rank Two Necromancer responsible for the Lansfield Necromancers’ Guild, sits at the end of the long, stone conference table with his hands folded in front of him. “Would someone, slowly, explain to me how it is that this event was scheduled next to the cairn and no one thought it might be an issue?”

Houston, Eric, and I are sitting on one side of the table. Necromancer Morton and three other members of the guild are sitting on the other.

“In light of the ongoing investigation regarding the possible rogue necromancers using forbidden magic,” says Necromancer Morton, “I didn’t think—”

“Would you repeat that last part?” Haverson says.

“I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think?”

“No, sir.”

“Madame Warlock, the walk is in three days?”

“Yes, Archmage. I’ve alerted both Archmage Lawrence and Justicar Harken to the situation.”

“Thank you for your preemptive efforts. I will convene with Archmage Lawrence to device a course of action.”

“Sir, protecting the cairn is the responsibility of the Evokers,” says Necromancer Castro.

“Did I say otherwise?”

“You seemed to imply—”

“Did I
explicitly
say otherwise?”

“No, sir.”

“Does the fact the Philadelphia Evocation Academy failed to identify this threat negate our responsibility regarding the spread of undead plagues?”

“No, sir.”

“Then what was your point?”

“No…no point, sir.”

“I will express my displeasure with Archmage Lawrence when we convene. That displeasure, however, does not remove fault from our own members. Particularly in light of the current investigation regarding forbidden magic. Does anyone disagree?”

“
This guy is creepier than Chancellor Vianu, and Vianu is a friggin’ vampire
!” thinks Houston.

“He’s just old-school when it comes to protocols
,” I reply.

“
Old school as in 15
^th
century?”

“Behave, please?”

After the other necromancers leave, I approach Archmage Haverson. “I am so sorry I didn’t get wind of this earlier. If there is anything we can do, please keep me in the loop.”

“No apologies are necessary on your behave, Madame Warlock. Your area of concern are demons, and from what I understand you have more than adequately fulfilled
your
duties in that area. You aren’t the Archmage of the Evocation Academy. Blame doesn’t fall on you.”

“I appreciate that. Not to make excuses for Archmage Lawrence—”

“Then don’t. It is unbecoming a Warlock of your rank. And I already know what you are going to say,” he leans slightly toward Houston and nods. “And I’m not even a psion.”

“Archmage—”

“Nancy,” he says as he takes my hand in his. “We probably shouldn’t have this discussion in front of your apprentice and your exchange student.”

“Let me know what you need me to do,” I reply.

“So, what was that on about?” asks Eric as we get into my car.

“Nothing for you guys to worry over,” I reply. “Just the usual politics.”

“Haverson got it in for Archmage Lawrence or something?” says Houston.

“It’s nothing like that!” I wait until we get on the Expressway before continuing. “So you boys need to get costumes.”

“For what?” asks Houston.

“Because they’ll probably ask us to attend the walk and deal with any Thought Beasts that manifest. And we’ll need to blend in with the walkers and other attendees.”

“I’m totally gonna be Daryl Dixon!” exclaims Houston.

“Guess that makes me Rick Grimes,” says Eric.

“You need to drop that accept first.”

“Bloody hell, mate. You know Andrew Lincoln is a Brit, right?”

“No he’s not. He talks with a Southern accent.”

“He’s as British as I am, mate.”

“Don’t look at me!” I say as I catch Houston looking to me for support. “I have no idea what you people are even talking about.”

“
The Walking Dead
!” they both exclaim.

“You don’t watch
The Walking Dead
?” asks Eric.

“It’s like the biggest show on TV, boss,” says Houston.

“How much TV do I watch?”

Houston turns around in his seat to face Eric. “You know what this means, right?”

“
Walking Dead
Marathon.”

September 18
^th

“Oh ye gods!” I exclaim as I cover my eyes for the third time this episode. “How is this on regular TV?”

“Its cable,” replies Houston.

“There is less blood on
Game of Thrones
.”

“Not by much. And they make up the difference with nudity,” says Eric.

“How can you to eat while watching this?”

“You are such a wimp for a demonologist,” says Houston as he takes another bite of pizza.

My phone rings. I pick it up to see Lee’s phone number.

“You can’t keep ignoring him,” says Houston.

“Don’t read my surface thoughts,” I say.

“I didn’t. I just saw your face when you picked up the phone.”

“He’s your familiar or whatnot, isn’t he?” asks Eric.

“Servitor. He’s not a familiar.” I let the call go to voicemail.

“Well, if you don’t want him to call, just tell him not to call. He has to listen to you doesn’t he?”

“It’s not that simple, Eric.”

“It
would
be that simple,” says Houston. “If she didn’t have the hots for him.”

“He’s a lemure!”

“No, he’s a skinwalker now.”

“Oh, well, that makes it
so
much better!”

Lee had been accidentally summoned to the material world a few months ago by an inexperienced adept with a movie-prop grimoire. To escape me, he had possessed the body of a drug addict in an ambulance. The addict died and the lemure moved in permanently before we could track him down. Not wanting a free-roaming skinwalker on the prowl, it was determined that he needed to be bound. To
me
. Seeing as I am the highest ranking demonologist in the area since Mom died.

The phone rings again.

“Answer it, Nancy,” says Houston. “Or I will. And you don’t want that!”

“I hate you,” I say as I answer the phone.

“I’m sorry,” says Lee on the other end. “Are you busy?”

“This is going to sound really weird, but we’re watching a Walking Dead marathon because we might have to deal with zombies.”

There is a long pause before Lee says, “If I’m bothering you—”

“No! You didn’t do anything wrong!” I assure him. He has anxiety attacks whenever he thinks he has upset me. Since becoming a skinwalker, he’s developed peculiar feeding habits for a demon. Most demons feed off of human vices. Lee feeds off of affection and making people happy. So whenever I get upset it’s like pouring vinegar into someone’s orange juice.

I explain the situation to Lee. He immediately volunteers to help in any way he can. And the truth is a demon on site would be a huge help. I agree and tell him to meet up with us before the walk.

“Hey, if he’s part of the Team Venture now, he should come over and watch the marathon with us,” says Houston. “Then you could bury your face in his shoulder on the gruesome parts.”

“You are such a geek,” I say as I slap his arm.

September 20
^th

“Who’s trailer did you steal that ensemble from?” I say as I look Houston up and down. He’s wearing a torn up pair of blue jeans, a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a black vest.

“I’m Daryl!” he says as he points the NERF Zombie Strike Crossfire bow at me.

“
Riiigght.”

“Walk rules prohibit real weapons or toy weapons that resemble real weapons. So…” he holds up his bow. “I work with what I can.”

Eric walks toward us wearing a sheriff’s hat, a beige shirt with a fake badge, and wielding a pair of red, opaque water guns. I just shake my head.

“This was your idea,” reminds Houston. “We need to blend in and all.”

“I know. I know.”

Anastasia comes running over to us. I reflexively flinch at the site of a teen zombie racing toward me. But then she opens her mouth and I remember she’s not really a zombie.

“How do I look?” she asks. I little piece of fake flesh comes loose under her chin. Houston smooths it back into place for her.

“You look like a zombie,” I say.

“I’ve been practicing my walk, too!” she extends her arms out at a slight angle and shuffles closer. “Good, huh?”

“Don’t forget to get your free flu shot before the walk starts,” I say. “I hear it also protects from the zombie virus.”

“But I’m already a zombie,” she says, followed by a fake maniacal laugh. “And now I infect Eric!” He grabs Eric’s hand and play-bites his pinkie.