nancy werlocks diary s02e12 (3 page)

“My reputation? I’ve just returned to the craft after a very long hiatus. How much of a reputation can I possibly have with vampires?”

Chris fights back a smirk. “Let’s just say that I’ve had occasion over the years to work with a few of your Justicars on matters of both witch and vampire interest.”

“I’m going to kill Steve.”

“I didn’t say who.” He holds his hands up apologetically.

“You didn’t have to. What did he tell you?”

“Just shop talk. We have similar duties after all.  Just don’t set my hair on fire. I won’t recover as quickly as he did.” 

“I did not set his hair on fire! It was only singed.”

“I wasn’t there. I’ll take your word for it.”

“I don’t even know why he still tells people that story. We were seventeen years old and he was trying to peep into the girls’ locker room.”

“Sounds like he’s lucky he only got burned…um…singed hair.”

I collapse against my car and look up at the night sky. “I can’t promise anything,” I finally say. “I…I have to deal with a bunch of stuff before Samhain that is consuming all my concentration. What kind of timeline are you looking for?”

“It can wait a couple of weeks. You need time to get other things off your plate first, I can work with that. As long as I know you are on board to help I can manage things accordingly.”

“What exactly are we talking about here?”

“I don’t want to get into too many details in a parking lot. Just want you to review about a dozen files and help me get a feel for the general character of the individuals involved. I’ll pay whatever your normal hourly rate is for consultations.”

“Have your people call the shop around the 10
^th
. If you get Houston or Eric, you can talk freely to both of them. If you get Anastasia, just tell her you were calling about a special order and give her your name. We can work out the details from there.”

“Thank you, Dr. Werlock. I promise it is just reviewing files for your professional opinion. You won’t get dragged into anything else.”

“You say that now.” I get into my car. “But that isn’t how my life works.”

Last Rites

October 25
^th

“He didn’t even tell you what the files were?” asks Houston.

“He didn’t volunteer and I didn’t ask,” I reply as I unpack the latest delivery and start organizing the special orders. “Hand me the box of harpy talons. I need to pull three for this order.”

Houston hands me the box and then starts counting out jackalope antlers to fill orders. “So, this guy like Blade or something, hunting other vampires?”

“Oh ye gods. A Palatine is similar to a Justicar. They police other vampires and uphold the laws of the Blood Court. He’s not some rogue vampire hunter.”

“I asked Gregor about the London Blood Court,” says Eric as he measures out powdered obsidian and places it in vials. “He said Palatine Warden is an arse and the whole lot of them troll around London like they are the bloody Queen.”

Last night, I had a surprise encounter with Palatine Christopher Ross of the Philadelphia Blood Court. He wants to hire me to review some files and offer my “professional opinion” as a psychologist. I confess I was not in the mood to deal with him at the time, but I realized that I need to look into getting a new roof put on the house after the last storm revealed a few leaks. And he made it clear he’ll pay whatever hourly rate I charge him, so this might be a blessing.

“Well, Palatine Ross seemed like a decent enough sort,” I reply. “And you
are
using ounces and not grams, right?”

“Ah, Bloody Hell!” Eric empties the vials he already completed, resets the electronic scale to ounces, and starts over. “When is America going to get on the metric system with the rest of us?”

“Don’t hold your breath,” I say.

“So you think he wants you to be like a vampire criminal profiler?” asks Houston.

“I have no idea. Maybe. Steve thinks he wants psych evals on prospective new childer. After what went down a few years back with that weird cult, the Court may feel they need more feet on the ground to identify those sort of things before they happen.”

“Wait, secret vampire cult? When did this happen? That was never in the news.”

“If it had made it into the news, Houston, that would have meant the Palatine failed at his job. Like I said, he’s the equivalent of a Justicar. His ultimate job is to keep vampires
out
of the news.”

“What was the cult, though?” asks Eric.

“I don’t really know all the details. Some quasi-religious cult, Order of the Blood Horizon or something like that. They believed vampires are part of ‘God’s Plan’ for humanity and they wanted to reveal the existence of vampires to bring about Armageddon.”

“Do you think crazy religious people even realize they are a cliché?” asks Houston. “There should come a point when you stop and think ‘you know, this idea of mine sounds like a cheap B-grade horror plot.’”

“It’s a bit scary to think something like that happened and nobody in the witch community realized it,” says Eric. “If that had gone pear-shaped, witches would have been caught in the fire just as quick as vampires.”

“Face it, the supernatural world is just like the U.S.,” says Houston. “You’ve got the CIA, FBI, NSA, Homeland Security, and fifty separate state agencies, all chasing their own tails and pissing around to mark their territory. But nobody actually shares information so nobody actually knows anything.”

“Somebody has been reading Facebook political memes again,” I say.

I tell the boys to finish up sorting the special orders and then work on inventory checks and stocking shelves.  I go to the door and open the shop for the day. There are already three ladies waiting outside for the shop to open. None of them are regulars. One makes a beeline for the cosmetic display Anastasia had set up to promote Halloween-themed black, orange, and red cosmetics. She snatches up three tubes of lipstick and, taking a second look at the “buy three, get one free” sign, picks up an eyeshadow.

The second woman heads for the back of the shop where we set up a display of commercialized tarot cards, Ouija boards, and Spirit Writing DIY kits. These items are really popular with mundanes for Halloween parties, and people are willing to pay a premium just so they can say they bought one at a “real” magic shop.

The third woman walks over to the aromatherapy display, then to the homeopathic remedies section, and finally wanders down the bookshelves.

Cosmetic woman places her purchase on the counter along with a printout coupon for a free “potion bottle” with purchase of $25 or more. Another one of Anastasia’s ideas. We have a Facebook fan page now. Apparently we have almost a thousand followers. Not sure how I let Anastasia talk me into it, but she manages it (which Houston checks periodically throughout the day to make sure she doesn’t post something too ridiculous).  She had posted the coupon on the Facebook group.

The potion bottles are the little tiny glass ones with a cork lid that crafters use to make necklaces. We get them for a dollar a dozen. Anastasia printed off these cute little “apothecary” labels she made with some clip art and our laser printer and put them on the bottles, then strung them with different color ribbons. We keep them on the counter in a wicker basket and let the customers pick the one they want. Cosmetic woman contemplates the choice for far longer than a reasonable person should before settling on a bottle with an orange ribbon.

Now might be a good time to confess that the cosmetics are the same brand you can pick up at most dollar stores this time of year. Mom thinks Anastasia’s cosmetic display was a stroke of marketing genius. She was particularly fond of the “Genuine Halloween Colors” verbiage on the display sign. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? 

I feel like every time I sell a cheap tube of black lipstick for $8.99, a kitten somewhere dies.

But hey, she got a free potion bottle!

The second woman comes up to the counter with a book on ghosts and one of the Ouija boards. “Do these things really work?” she asks in almost a whisper.

“If the spirits are listening,” I reply with my stock non-answer.

“So using one of these on Halloween increases the odds, right? I mean, because that is when ghosts are most active, right?”

I nod in faux agreement and say, “there are those that say that.”

“Awesome.” She pays for her purchase and leaves.

More customers come in, but the third woman is still wandering the aisles almost as if she is in a daze. Houston comes out of the stockroom carrying a box of items to stock the shelves. I wave him over to watch the counter for a minute so I can check on the woman.

“Looking for something in particular?” I ask.

“Halloween is coming,” she says without looking at me.

“Yeah. Yep.”

“You carry a lot of stuff here.” She absently runs her finger over a few figurines.

“We try to keep a varied selection.”

“For the other witches.”

Something in her voices sends a chill over me. “Was there something specific you were looking for?”

“Closure,” she says. She turns to face me. She’s crying.

“Are you all right?” I ask and gently touch her arm.

She looks down at my hand on her arm then looks up at me and scowls. “No, I’m not all right.” She pulls a small knife out of her pocket and lunges at me. Her attack is awkward and I easily block it. An unfortunate reality is that witches need to learn self-defense because we never know when we’ll be attacked by a crazy person or monster and not be able to just freely call on Hellfire.

She tries to stab me again and I knock her arm out of the way. She loses her balance and bumps into one of the glass display cases, causing it to fall over and shatter. Houston rushes over to help me subdue her while Eric calls the police. She just starts screaming at me that I’m evil and that she hates me.

“Nancy, this is Williams’ wife,” says Houston. “She thinks…” Houston pauses as he sifts through her fractured mind, “…she thinks your mom came back from the grave to cause the accident.”

“You people are evil!” she shrieks. “She was a witch and a Satanist and she killed him! You can all burn in Hell!”

* * *

“Were you injured?” asks the police officer.

“No, I’m fine. We’ve got a broken display case but other than that no real damage.”

“I see you have security cameras. We’ll need a copy of the security footage.”

I tell Houston to go retrieve the footage for the officer. “I…I don’t want to press charges.”

“She attacked you with a knife.”

“She also has small children and her husband recently died in a car accident.”

“So you know her personally?”

“No. Her husband was involved in a drunk-driving accident earlier this year that killed my mother. He recently died in a single car collision. She’s suffering from delusions. She thinks my mother returned from beyond the grave for revenge.”

“Did you previously get any threats?”

“No. This was rather sudden. No threats.”

“Not even during the trial?”

“There was no trial. The prosecutor offered him a plea deal. There was supposed to be a sentencing hearing, but he died before that happened. I never even met her before today.” I look over at my shattered display case. “She needs help, not jail time.”

“You’re a better person than most,” he replies. “We’re still going to take her in for processing. DA will make a final determination on what charges to file. I’m sure he’ll take your feelings into consideration.” He finishes getting my statement. Houston gives him a copy of the security footage. The police leave after getting statements from both Houston and Eric. We close up the shop for the day and get to the task of cleaning up the mess. I call Anastasia and tell her not to come in after school. Her mother calls a few minutes later to get more information about what happened. She expresses concern about Anastasia working at the shop until things are sorted out with the Williams’ woman. Despite Anastasia’s pleas in the background, I can’t help but agree with her mother.

“None of this is your fault, Nancy,” says Houston as he sweeps up broken glass.

“I know. It doesn’t help, but I know.”

“You need to press charges,” says Eric while itemizing the broken items. “You’re bloody lucky it was a knife and not a gun.”

“She’s grieving her husband,” I say.

“Plenty of folks grieve without going off their trolley and trying to kill someone.”

“I’m fine, Eric.”

“That’s not the point. This was pre-meditated. She came here with a weapon looking for you. This wasn’t an attack of opportunity.”

“He’s right,” says Houston without looking up. “You can’t just let this go. Next time it
will
be a gun.”

“She has children.”

“And next time it
will
be a gun. There
will
be a next time, Nancy.”

“Just because she was thinking about killing me in the moment doesn’t mean—”

“Nancy, stop and listen to me,” says Houston. “I was in her head. This was not grief. This was fanaticism. This was a religious wacko who didn’t come here because she was grieving her husband. She came here because she believes that your mother did this and she believes you deserve to die. The whole time she was screaming at us while we were holding her down? The thing running through her mind was Exodus 22:18.”

“Bloody Hell,” mutters Eric.

“Houston, we have to de-escalate the situation. I hear what you are saying. That is just more reason to not escalate this.”

“She tried to kill you! We’re way beyond de-escalating!”

“If I press charges, she’s becomes a martyr. Her husband’s attorney was already prepared to play that card during the drunk-driving trial. It was one of the reasons why the DA offered the plea deal.”

“The plea deal you hated,” says Eric.

“That was a different situation. The drunk-driving issue was a straightforward car accident that should have been a slam dunk prosecution. This is a whole different animal.”