nancy werlocks diary s02e14 (4 page)

“I’m thinking no, Houston. The only hunting I intend to do is in the frozen aisle finding the right size bird.”

“Where is your sense of adventure?”

“Where is your sense?”

“You wound me.”

“Enough turkey news, you turkey. We have to get to the shop.”

* * *

I leave Houston at the shop to go have lunch with Lee. He’s very nervous about the impending holidays. He just learned that his niece will be participating in a Nativity play at church, which means he is expected to attend the play…in the church. This is problematic for demons.

The Brennons aren't overly religious but have started attending church again regularly after the "miracle" of their son's recovery. The mortal Lee Brennon was a drug addict that died from a drug overdose. The current Lee is a lemure that managed to jump into the body just before death and moved in. Unlike most demonic possessions, Lee isn’t just occupying the body. He’s fully merged with it and for all intents and purposes is a living person. Like all demons, Lee draws energy from human emotions. Unlike most demons, instead of drawing energy from vices, he draws his from love.

It’s been complicated.

“They’ll be doing Communion!” he leans toward me and whispers. “I can’t do that!”

“Just fake sick and go to the bathroom at that part,” I say.

“You want me to lie to my parents?”

“The alternative is to tell them you’re a demon in their son’s body. Pick one.”

“What if something…goes wrong when I enter the church?”

“Eric will be back tomorrow. I’ll send him to the Guild to do some research on shields. We’ll figure something out. This can’t be the first time a demon has needed to go into a church.”

When I get back to the shop, Houston is on the phone with Anastasia. "Is your mom okay?" I hear him ask. He sees me come into the shop and telepathically informs me that Anastasia's mom was in a car accident. As she is talking, he relays to me that she'll be fine, but she broke her arm and the car is wrecked. Her mother was coming home from visiting her cousin in Vineland when a truck swerved to avoid a bunch of turkeys and ended up hitting her.

When Houston hangs up, he says, “Fine. The turkeys aren’t funny, anymore.”

November 9
^th
,

“There have been twelve turkey-related accidents in the last three days,” says Houston as he comes into my office with his laptop. He puts the laptop on my desk and shows me a news article.

“Do you have some vendetta now against turkeys?”

"I'm being serious. There is something weird going on. Look at this." He pulls up a Google map of South Jersey with little pinpoints highlighted. "I mapped all of the accidents. They are all around the same ten-mile area.

“Which wouldn’t be unusual as that is where the flock seems to be nesting.”

“Do you know what else is in that area? An abandoned turkey farm.”

“So, you think there is some undead turkey ghost leading an army of turkeys from beyond the grave?”

“Nancy, this year so far we’ve dealt with gremlins, zombies, a ghoul, and a demon living in a pocket watch.”

I take a closer look at the map. Houston is right. All of the accidents seem to center around the area of the old turkey farm. “It can’t be a turkey ghost, Houston.”

“Why not? There are animal spirits, right?”

“Animal spirits aren’t the same thing as ghosts. An animal spirit isn’t the soul of an animal. It is more a manifestation of nature. Ghosts are the spirits of sentient entities that refuse to pass on. It takes a high level of self-awareness to resist the pull of death. Animals don’t possess that level of self-awareness.”

“But it can’t be just a coincidence. There has to be something there.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ll call Eric back from the Guild to cover the shop. We’re taking a field trip.”

* * *

Route 55, because it runs through so much open land, has always had a deer problem. It isn’t unusual for there to be a car accident or a near miss because of a deer darting across the highway. Particularly at dawn and dusk, when they are most likely to be out foraging. But the turkeys have added a whole new level of danger and distraction.

Idiots with their cell phones out are driving while trying to film the birds along the highway. As we head to our destination, we pass a guy in a truck with Pennsylvania tags pulled over who appears to be trying to bait a turkey into a pen. Houston cranes his neck as we pass to see how that goes, but by the time the truck is out of our view the bird was still avoiding capture.

We take the exit down the empty road toward the old farm. I’m driving slowly because there are turkeys on either side of the road. Some are perched in trees. Others are just standing there…staring at us. They actually turn their heads to follow the car’s path.

The farm is gated. I park the car outside the gate and we begin to walk along the fence. The birds don’t approach us but continue to watch us.

“Maybe we should have brought actual weapons,” says Houston.

“That might have antagonized them.”

A few of the turkeys inch closer to us but maintain a sort of buffer zone around us. Despite the number of birds here, I estimate at least a hundred, the farm is quiet. It smells like bird crap, but it’s quiet.

We find a section of fence that is missing and move closer to the actual structure.

Houston and I both sense a strong presence at the same time. “
That’s not a spirit
,” Houston thinks to me.

“
It’s not demonic, either
," I reply.

“
Cryptid, maybe
?”

Cryptids are normal animals that are mutated by exposure to magical energies. The majority of the time, mundanes can’t really tell a cryptid from a normal animal. They may come across an unusually large squirrel or a fox with patches of scales, but mostly just dismiss it as injured or a trick of the light or diseased. But sometimes the mutations aren’t so easy to write off. Whenever you hear about a chupacabra or a jackalope, it is usually a sighting of a magically mutated animal. They are commonly found near cairns, but we’re too far from the cairn in the Pine Barrens for that to be the case. But with the Veil so thin, any sudden influx of magical energy could theoretically spawn a cryptid.

If I had any sense, I would get back in the car and just call them. I’m a Warlock, not a Cryptologist. The guild has Cryptologists on staff. But they would probably just ask me to deal with it, anyway. So…

“Do we have a plan?” asks Houston as he nervously watches the circling turkeys.

“If they get aggressive, I’ll roast them.”

“So no real plan.”

As we approach the main structure the turkeys block our path. Not in a “we are mindless birds just milling around in the way” sort of blocking. No, this is a “you shall not pass” deal. They form a line four deep between us and the barn and just stare at us.

“Are you sure this isn’t a demon?” asks Houston.

“It’s not a demon. I’m a rank two warlock. I know demons.”

“This is freaking me out. I’d rather deal with a demon.”

“Maybe we need one.”

* * *

Lee pulls up next to my car in the Hessman Construction work truck. “You don’t look broken down,” he says as he gets out of the truck and looks around curiously.

“I had to tell my uncle something so he would send you,” says Houston. “Blame Nancy.”

“I didn’t want to call you out of work,” I say after slapping Houston’s arm. “But we sort of have a situation here.”

“I am at your command, Mistress,” says Lee. He gives me a kiss. Houston makes sucking sounds behind me.

Ignoring my immature apprentice, I explain the situation to Lee. We have a cryptid situation in which the creature seems to have some sort of hive mind with the turkeys. We think it is inside the main barn, but we can’t get to it because the turkeys are blocking us. We’re trying to avoid aggression because we don’t know what they will do, and I’d like to avoid reigning hellfire down on a flock of turkeys as I don’t want to start a damn forest fire.

“So I’m just spooking the birds to get them out of the way? Sounds simple enough. Follow me.”

We follow behind Lee. The birds, sensing his nature in that way that animals so often do, are reluctant to get too close to him. When we reach the turkey blockade at the front door, Lee sends out smoky pulses of his demonic energy to scare the birds. They make terrified noises and scatter out of our path. Though not before leaving a pile of bird crap for us to step through.

The padlock on the front of the building is missing though the chain is hanging off the door. We slide the doors open and look inside.

“My brain doesn’t know if I should laugh or cry,” mutters Houston.

“This is…different,” says Lee.

Part of the roof of the building is collapsed, and the turkeys have used it as an access point to fly in and out of the barn. The old cages have been stacked together to form a makeshift platform. Surrounding the platform appears to be…offerings? One of the turkeys flies down through the opening and deposits what looks like a woman’s purse on the pile. There are various small lawn ornaments, broken items probably confiscated from trash piles, and articles of clothing (do people still use clotheslines in this part of New Jersey?). The platform is surrounded by...attendant turkeys…I suppose you would call them.

And sitting atop the platform is the biggest turkey I’ve ever seen.

The creature is, at least, five feet tall and almost as big around at the widest point. It is covered in white feathers, like domesticated birds found on commercial farms. Its beak is twice as long as it should be in comparison to normal turkeys and it has unusually large, solid black eyes.

We take a few steps forward and get close enough to get a better look at the treasure pile. “Nancy, I smell something rotting here,” says Lee.

“I can’t smell anything over all the turkey crap.”

Lee closes his eyes and focuses while smelling the air. “Bodies. There are dead bodies here.”

The turkey-thing opens its beak and emits a blood-curdling shriek, causing the attendant turkeys to take an aggressive posture. Lee pulses his aura to scare the birds back.

“It’s angry that we’re here,” says Houston. “Nancy, this thing has an aura.”

I activate the Third Eye incantation and sure enough, our turkey-monster has an aura. All living things have an aura, but with animals and even cryptids that aura is usually faint and doesn’t reflect much more than basic survival instincts. You can tell if an animal is hungry or frightened, for example, but not much more than that. But this thing has a fully developed, multi-layered aura. And it is angry and offended by our presence.

“Do we have a plan?” asks Lee.

“The plan is not to be killed by a bunch of turkeys,” I say. “Keep them back while I figure this out.”

“Argh,” says Houston and rubs his temple.

“Are you trying to read a turkey’s mind?” I ask.

“It’s thinking,” he replies. “I can tell that much. There is a pattern there, but I can’t actually figure out what it is. It doesn’t think in English.”

“That is…strangely comforting.”

“But it is mind controlling the other birds.”

“Houston, you do realize what you are saying, right?”

“It’s a psionic god-king turkey. Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”

“I can hit it with hellfire from here, but we’ll probably burn this place down in the process.”

“Don’t risk it,” says Lee. “I can reach it with my tentacles.”

“If you don’t snap that things neck on the first try, we’re gonna get jumped by a hundred angry birds,” says Houston.

“We might get jumped anyway,” says Lee.

“No,” I reply. “The rest of the turkeys are normal birds. If the thing dies, it won’t be able to control them anymore and they will fall back on their normal behavior.”

Lee steps forward and pushes forth a huge wave of demonic energy, causing the birds in the immediate area to jump back in horror. The turkey monster's head darts back and forth, shrieking angrily at its minions. Lee summons up a huge tenebrous tentacle directly behind the beast while it is distracted. The tentacle wraps quickly around the bird’s neck.

Several of the turkeys do flap toward us. I manifest hellfire in my hand and threaten the birds with it. It’s enough to get them to move backward long enough for Lee to choke out their “god-king.” The creature’s body collapses on top of its platform.

The collected turkeys freak out, flapping wildly before fleeing the area. After several minutes, we’re covered in turkey feathers and turkey crap, but unharmed.

Beneath the pile of offerings, we find the remains of three twentysomethings. A great deal of flesh is missing from the bodies. I think the turkey-thing was eating the corpses.

“I’m going to call the guild and let the Cryptologists handle the clean-up. They’ll want to study the scene, and they can determine better than me what happened here.”

“What about the bodies?” asks Houston.

“Oh no. This was not demon-related. I am not owning this. I’ve done enough favors for them. We identified it. We found it. We killed it. They can handle the rest.”

“I gotta get back to work,” says Lee. "After I take a long shower. You two going to be okay?”

“We’ll be good. I’d kiss you, but I’m covered in bird shit.”

“As you wish, Mistress.”

* * *

Evoker Geoffrey is the first to arrive at the scene. He seems disappointed to learn that we killed the creature, but relieved the body is still intact. And not deep-fried. After giving him a full report, Houston and I head home.

Even though it is cold outside, we drive home with the windows down and the heat off. I still feel nauseous by the time I walk in the door. I spend an hour in the bathroom trying to get the stink off of me. I decide to just throw away the clothes I was wearing. I don’t want to even put them in the washing machine.

I find Houston in the kitchen. He’s holding the invoice for Harlan’s medical care in his hand. “I guess he won’t be back, will he?”