Andy boy,
You had to ask about the computers, huh? I’ve put the new recruit on it.
If the two of you are on the same page, yeah, I’ll go with it. I’ve asked around about your weapon, and passed on the files. The others will get back to you.
Good luck.
-Samaniego
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Notebook 27:
Note: Andy’s personal notes, after action reports.
Met with the unnamed practitioner, placed tape with conversation transcript in the Holt file. We left on amiable terms, despite Eva’s initially hostile response (threatening to shoot the practitioner). I’m concerned about Eva, and it’s not something I can address with Mac, Creevey or the Magog group.
We walked different paths from the beginning. Different forms of training, different amounts of time spent with Mac’s group, Creevey, in Halifax, and with the talons in Rhode Island. They trained us in all the basics, but they emphasized our strengths too. While I was learning to use a hunting rifle, Eva was hunting goblins with a sword in hand. While I was learning about the basic principles of the practice in Halifax, Eva was in London, Ontario, doing god knows what.
I’m increasingly worried that something went wrong. That she ran into something and it got to her.
I’m not sure it was one of the monsters. Not in the fang and claw sense.
We had two jobs on behalf of the council, keeping things tidy while they get their ducks in a row. Non-allied threats are still lingering. Goblins are supposed to sleep for sixteen to twenty-two hours a day, but I’ve noticed goblins have been more awake and active than that. Ghosts are cropping up, and they should be quieter than they are. Old echoes are stirring.
Things move so slowly that we don’t see the gradual changes, but the monsters who live for centuries do. I’ve wondered for a long time why the monsters gather in the same places the practitioners do. The obvious answer is that the practitioners follow where the monsters are, drawing on the power the monsters can give them. But I don’t think that’s it. The monsters should want to avoid the practitioners, who are the best equipped to bind them.
The second answer is that monsters are practitioners. We know about some cases. See Mara in the files for Jacob’s Bell. It’s a common theory with Faerie, and obviously the likes of vampires and werewolves, which are much rarer and more monstrous than conventional media would have us believe. Again, it’s an answer, but it doesn’t feel like ~the~ answer.
This is a thought I’m putting together as I put pen to paper, something I’ve thought about in the shower, but what if the monsters are following practitioners because there’s some fallout we’re not fully aware of? What if we’re gouging reality? I sit in on the council meetings, because I don’t trust Eva to go alone, and I won’t stop her from seeing what she views as ‘the drama’. I watch Sandra and Johannes interact, and I see them practicing. A part of me wonders, are each of those displays generating some attention? Are some or all of the monsters detecting magic in the air like sharks in the water detecting magical signals or sniff out blood?
They become a little less human over time. They make compromises, and they might unwittingly be inviting the monsters into Jacob’s Bell. Sandra does it because it’s the way it has always been done in her family. Johannes does it with the future in mind. Both do it to be on top.
I think about that. The selfish actions, and the unwitting damage they may be causing. I don’t like it, but I have to keep doing what I do.
Promises. Responsibilities.
Eva is all about action. She doesn’t like to sit still, and when she does, she turns on the television and tunes into something that lets her turn her brain off. Or blares music so loud that thinking is impossible.
For a long time, she was better than me. Maybe she still is, standalone. If Sandra needed to die, I think Eva could do it. I could do it too, but not without drawing on expensive tools, planning for days or a week.
It felt subversive, giving the girl with the scarf weapons. It wasn’t something I should have done, standing where I do.
There are promises to keep.
In the interest of keeping those promises, we went after two of the monsters. Trying to keep things under control.
In the middle of the day, we had to deal with a gnome or brownie or fairy-cousin of some sort. A little person disguised as one of us, going door to door with a clipboard. There was something questionable in the fine print.
The rules are strict when it comes to going after the regular people. Our hunt wasn’t successful. It was fast, it was tricky, and we weren’t coordinated enough. It was one of the monsters that’s been around so long it knows most of the conventional tricks.
Eva blamed me for letting it slip away. She was probably right.
I was inspired to write this entry by the meeting with the girl with the scarf, because I definitely want better records if memories are being altered, and by the night that followed, because a thought crossed my mind, and it felt like more of an epiphany.
Eva and I both had guns. Shotguns with rock salt for a ghost. Not perfect, but it slowed it down. The echo went as quickly as it’d resurfaced.
The police came, hearing the gunshots. We couldn’t afford to get caught without the practitioner police chief in town to get us off the hook.
The close call made me think. I was tired, I don’t have a lot of stamina on a good day, and for a moment, I nearly considered giving up.
I nearly gave up on my promise to Mac.
Hearing Eva yell at me, I felt like it was a role reversal.
What if I’m as bad as she is? I’ve yelled at her so many times for getting into hairy situations, for taking risks, or making blind leaps, picking a fight without knowing exactly what she’s fighting.
But she’s a genius, in terms of talent. She can go toe to toe with a faerie that’s glamoured itself up as a vampire, harboring some of the best traits of both, and still cut the thing’s head from its shoulders.
The thought hit me that I’m just as bad as she is. To want to get arrested. To have it end. Knowing that she’s behind bars, and so am I, and the responsibility is over. No caring for the sister who trained in how to fight monsters and became one. Just me, a prison cell, and a book.
To end my existence.
Realizing that was a wake up call, hearing it from Eva’s lips doubly so.
I don’t want to go down that road.
That means being more regular with my diary entries. Polish my skills.
The promise to Mac still holds. He was my teacher. More of a dad than anyone was to me. I owe him too much. As infuriating as Eva can be, Mac saved her for me. Mac saved me from me. He saved my parents, even if it was with an ice pick through the temple.
It’s my duty to see the promise through.
■
Andrew,
I know we haven’t been in contact, but three people have been in touch with me in the past week, asking my advice in identifying the creatures you’ve described this past week. Rather than let the irritations continue, I’m going to the source. You’ll have ten deliveries in the next two weeks. Boxes of books. My secondhand tomes. I’ve already marked some pages where you raised questions or named details, my best guesses, off the top of my head. Please tell your teenaged witch hunter peers to stop pestering me about the computer nonsense.
-Creevey
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Notebook 27:
Note: Andy’s personal notes.