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tipsywench · 3 years ago

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So here's the biggest issue with reading "Fighting Prophet" - the sources really aren't cited well at all.

So you have this quote of Sherman where he's describing his grandmother:

And in the back of the book all you really get is a list of sources for each chapter, and before that a big paragraph describing how all letters came from the letter collections in the Library of Congress

So I at first assumed maybe it was from Sherman's memoirs or John's recollections but I didn't find it in either. Then I googled a line from it and after searching through a few books I found it's actually from a letter Sherman wrote to a friend who had offered him condolences after Ellen had died. And it's a lengthy letter going into his family history.

I'm gonna paste it under here, because I actually really like it, especially when he starts writing about his mother:

Found in "The Americanization of Edward Bok: The Autobiography of a Dutch Boy Fifty Years After" on Gutenberg:

When Mrs. Sherman passed away, Doctor T. DeWitt Talmage wrote General Sherman a note of condolence, and what is perhaps one of the fullest expositions of his religious faith to which he ever gave expression came from him in a most remarkable letter, which Doctor Talmage gave to Bok.

"New York, December 12, 1886.

"My Dear Friend:

"Your most tender epistle from Mansfield, Ohio, of December 9 brought here last night by your son awakens in my brain a flood of memories. Mrs. Sherman was by nature and inheritance an Irish Catholic. Her grandfather, Hugh Boyle, was a highly educated classical scholar, whom I remember well,—married the half sister of the mother of James G. Blaine at Brownsville, Pa., settled in our native town Lancaster, Fairfield County, Ohio, and became the Clerk of the County Court. He had two daughters, Maria and Susan. Maria became the wife of Thomas Ewing, about 1819, and was the mother of my wife, Ellen Boyle Ewing. She was so staunch to what she believed the true Faith that I am sure that though she loved her children better than herself, she would have seen them die with less pang, than to depart from the "Faith." Mr. Ewing was a great big man, an intellectual giant, and looked down on religion as something domestic, something consoling which ought to be encouraged; and to him it made little difference whether the religion was Methodist, Presbyterian, Baptist, or Catholic, provided the acts were 'half as good' as their professions.

"In 1829 my father, a Judge of the Supreme Court of Ohio, died at Lebanon away from home, leaving his widow, Mary Hoyt of Norwalk, Conn. (sister to Charles and James Hoyt of Brooklyn) with a frame house in Lancaster, an income of $200 a year and eleven as hungry, rough, and uncouth children as ever existed on earth. But father had been kind, generous, manly with a big heart; and when it ceased to beat friends turned up—Our Uncle Stoddard took Charles, the oldest; W. I. married the next, Elisabeth (still living); Amelia was soon married to a merchant in Mansfield, McCorab; I, the third son, was adopted by Thomas Ewing, a neighbor, and John fell to his namesake in Mt. Vernon, a merchant.

"Surely 'Man proposes and God disposes.' I could fill a hundred pages, but will not bore you. A half century has passed and you, a Protestant minister, write me a kind, affectionate letter about my Catholic wife from Mansfield, one of my family homes, where my mother, Mary Hoyt, died, and where our Grandmother, Betsey Stoddard, lies buried. Oh, what a flood of memories come up at the name of Betsey Stoddard,—daughter of the Revd. Mr. Stoddard, who preached three times every Sunday, and as often in between as he could cajole a congregation at ancient Woodbury, Conn.,—who came down from Mansfield to Lancaster, three days' hard journey to regulate the family of her son Judge Sherman, whose gentle wife was as afraid of Grandma as any of us boys. She never spared the rod or broom, but she had more square solid sense to the yard than any woman I ever saw. From her Charles, John, and I inherit what little sense we possess.

"Lancaster, Fairfield County, was our paternal home, Mansfield that of Grandmother Stoddard and her daughter, Betsey Parker. There Charles and John settled, and when in 1846 I went to California Mother also went there, and there died in 1851.

"When a boy, once a year I had to drive my mother in an old 'dandy wagon' on her annual visit. The distance was 75 miles, further than Omaha is from San Francisco. We always took three days and stopped at every house to gossip with the woman folks, and dispense medicines and syrups to the sick, for in those days all had the chills or ague. If I could I would not awaken Grandmother Betsey Stoddard because she would be horrified at the backsliding of the servants of Christ,—but oh! how I would like to take my mother, Mary Hoyt, in a railroad car out to California, to Santa Barbara and Los Angeles, among the vineyards of grapes, the groves of oranges, lemons and pomegranates. How clearly recurs to me the memory of her exclamation when I told her I had been ordered around Cape Horn to California. Her idea was about as definite as mine or yours as to, Where is Stanley? but she saw me return with some nuggets to make her life more comfortable.

"She was a strong Presbyterian to the end, but she loved my Ellen, and the love was mutual. All my children have inherited their mother's faith, and she would have given anything if I would have simply said Amen; but it is simply impossible.

"But I am sure that you know that the God who created the minnow, and who has moulded the rose and carnation, given each its sweet fragrance, will provide for those mortal men who strive to do right in the world which he himself has stocked with birds, animals, and men;—at all events, I will trust Him with absolute confidence.

"With great respect and affection,

"Yours truly,

"W. T. Sherman."

#william tecumseh sherman #fighting prophet #this is a long post but I wanted to include the letter #elderly sherman talking about his mama is really sweet though

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ishtarverse · 6 years ago

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The Talk

Daily Poet - April 2 - Visual Collage/Juxtaposing Unlikely Images

I waited on the green, iron-wrought bench stained with dry pigeon droppings shifting this way and that to save my magenta pencil shirtdress a size that barely fit even five pounds lighter the grime of Mt. Vernon Square between my sandal soles and toes. That moment felt like a razor’s edge, a quantum puzzle to open the door to unending light labyrinthine artifact discovery or to close it like a book in the Peabody or Enoch Pratt Free Library, and let the sparkling dust settle.

#baltimore #poem #poetry #dailypoet2019 #mt vernon square #enoch pratt free library #peabody library

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pbandjesse · 3 years ago

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Happy Halloween! I had such a great day. I am tired but I am in a great mood and I feel really happy. I hope I can hold onto this feeling.

I couldn't fall asleep last night. My back hurt a lot and I was just tossing and turning forever. But I did sleep. I woke up around 9 and tried to not feel like crap. I got up and shook it off and got washed and was very excited for my costume.

James wore their little doctor costume and I had to cut out the gems for my tears. I loved my makeup. I was super proud. I was super excited that we were doing a couple's costume. Ive never done that with anyone except Jess so I was really happy.

But it isn't just Halloween!! It is also sweetP birthday!! We kept screeching that at him. And giving him cheese and other treats. He got lots of love and we played fetch for like an hour on and off at the end of the day. Best little boy.

Once we had our costumes on though we wanted to get out into the world. The big plan for the day was do to photos of our costumes, then go have lunch, and go help at the theater and see the show.

So off we went. I had a great time taking pictures. I had worn a sweater under my jacket but it was warmer outside then it had been inside the apartment so I would take that off pretty fast. We found some dying sunflowers to take my portrait in and then we went to Mt Vernon square to take pictures near the marble. We had lots of laughs. But it was a little to bright in my eyes so we didn't get as many pictures as I hoped but I still love the ones we did.

A few people got really excited about our costumes. I was a little sad no one else was really dressed up. But a few people's faces completely lit up when they saw us and I loved that.

We made a stop at the Monument to see James's uncle and dad. They gave us candy bags for wearing costumes. It was a very fun day.

I was getting a little worn out though. Mostly because I had had no food or anything yet. So after some googling we decided to go to Soups On.

We got soup and a sandwich to share. We sat up in the window cove they have and shared the pictures we took and it was just really nice being together and eating soup and bread. We had popped into the convenience store to get me a fountain soda because they don't have them at Soups on. Which is their only negative to me. But I was pleased to have my soda and my soup and my fiance

It was still more then an hour before we had to be at the theater to check vaccine cards so we walked home to drop off the leftovers from lunch and so I could change my shoes. We drove back to the theater (which is literally one block from the place we ate lunch so it would feel silly to walk there again). And it was fun!

It was a lot less people then the other night. But it was all good. I had a nice time being out there and people watching. When we had almost everyone on the list there I went inside to tell Alex at the desk as much and someone was speaking not super nice to her about the program being digital. And I just shut her down with a "we will think about it for next time". I did not appreciate how she was speaking to Alex and honestly she ran out of there at the end of the show so I dont think this was her thing. She was sort of unpleasant.

I got to meet the actors again. I really loved their show last time so I was looking forward to it. The group is called Happenstance and they are a vaudeville inspired clown/mime troup and it was so fun to watch. There was some audience participation, lots of jokes and music and fun. It was a tiny crowd but they were all so lively that it was a blast. My face hurt a little from smiling.

We headed home after that though and got home around 430. We put on comfy clothes. And watched the trick or treaters outside. James made us flat bread pizzas and then I went to lay in bed and watch tiktoks for a while.

But as the sun went down we put on The Rocky Horror Picure Show and it was fun watching that and singing together. Though they say in the movie t takes place in late November so its really a Thanksgiving movie and not a Halloween one. But it was really fun and I felt good.

James got on a call to play a game with friends and I took a bath. Exfoliated everywhere because my psoriasis is hurting and it helps for putting medication on. And put my jams on again.

And now I am ready to sleep. I just fixed up my nail polish but its basically dry now. I am happy.

Tomorrow is November! And there is much to do. I have to make a bunch of bear bodies this week and I have styling and chores to do. And I work at the museum and at camp! So send us good thoughts. Happy birthday sweetP! Happy Halloween! Goodnight everyone!!

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eopederson · 1 year ago

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Window, Building on Mt. Vernon Square, Baltimore, 2015.

#urban landscape #architectural detail #window #brick #mt. vernon square #baltimore #2015 #photographers on tumblr

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nickdewolfarchive · 5 years ago

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Boston, Massachusetts 1957

Louisburg Square and Mt. Vernon Street

Photograph by Nick DeWolf https://www.flickr.com/photos/dboo/3161733668

#boston #beaconhill #streetphotography #photography #film #blackandwhite #1950s

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avanneman · 6 years ago

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Carriage House Days

Just off the corner of Connecticut and N Streets in Washington, DC is a reasonably imposing red-brick urban mini-mansion, which, a small plaque informs you, once belonged to General Henry Robert, who, you probably don’t know, wrote Robert’s Rules of Order. But back in 1975 when I worked there as a file clerk, we called it “the Carriage House,” because of the large room in the basement which indeed had once been a carriage house.

Like everyone else in the Carriage House, I worked on the “White & Case Case” for the law firm of Arnold & Porter, started in the late forties by two New Deal alumni, Thurman Arnold and Abe Fortas, who were then joined by another New Dealer, Paul Porter. Fortas was appointed to the Supreme Court by his very good friend Lyndon Johnson, who ultimately but inadvertently all but ruined Fortas’ life by seeking to elevate him to Chief Justice, leading to a number of scandals that both prevented Fortas from getting the job and, later, forced him to resign from the Court altogether, which might not have happened if Fortas hadn’t been Jewish, and would have been the nation’s first Jewish Chief Justice.

This was all ancient history by the time my association with the firm—mute, inglorious, and brief—began. Thurman and Abe’s original idea, it seems, was to found an early version of a “boutique” law firm, handling just a few “interesting” cases. Unsurprisingly, that strategy fell by the wayside as Washington boomed. The firm was originally housed in a number of the row houses on N Street, most spectacularly by an impressive mansion on the corner of N and 19th that had been owned by Teddy Roosevelt when he was Assistant Secretary of the Navy during the McKinley Administration. However, by the time I arrived at the Carriage House, most of the senior staff were housed in the I.A.M Building, a Washington, DC sized “skyscraper” on the corner of N and Connecticut, owned by the International Association of Machinists, whose president, William “Wimpy” Wimpisinger, was regarded by some as the most “dangerous” labor leader in America, though if Wimpy ever did anything dangerous, I never heard about it.

Most of the people in the Carriage House were young women, either paralegals or secretaries, which left me doubly the odd man out, or even trebly so, because I was quite possibly the oldest person there—of the regulars, at least—though a fortunately youthful appearance kept my presence and position there from looking as dubious as in fact it was.

I spent most of my time copying and collating documents. The enormous Xerox machines of the time could only copy a single page at a time—no automatic feeds and, of course, no automatic collating. I once spent three days assembling 50 copies of a 300-page document. Occasionally, I would read through transcripts of depositions and circle the names of "important" people whenever they appeared. One of the attorneys at many of these depositions would introduce himself at the start of each session in the following manner: "My name is Bobby Lawyer and I am an attorney."

I lived on Q Street, just a few blocks away from the Carriage House, in an efficiency I rented for $175 a month, furnished largely from what I scavenged from the street. I slept on a $50 mattress and listened to a $1200 stereo, both spread out on the floor. I sat in a worn wicker chair and ate from a worn card table, kept my books in a worn bookcase and my 100-odd jazz albums in a cardboard box.

The young women in the Carriage House who were single would often go to a bar they called “the Airplane”, located nearby on 19th St., but I was far too shy to do that. I would not have wanted to go to a “pick up” bar of any sort, and most certainly would not have wanted to go to a pick up bar frequented by women I knew at work.

However, there was a jazz club located in the basement of the town house right next to the Carriage House, “Harold’s Rogue and Jar”. I never found out what the name meant. I would go there occasionally and sit at the bar without talking to anyone. I would order a bacon cheeseburger with steak fries and a diet Coke. I can’t remember any of the names who appeared at the club, but it was serious jazz—nothing like the terrible “cool jazz” of today. The house drummer was a woman named Dottie Dodgione, who I think was the club manager as well. She was in her fifties, I would guess, with a stiff bouffant hairdo who wore pant suits, and ended each number with a furious solo. Sometimes, despite the jazz, the stress of being around so many people would get to me, and I would take my meal home, wrapped in heavy aluminum foil, and I would sit in my wicker chair and eat my rich bar food in peace and quiet and solitude.

After eight months at Arnold & Porter, I was fired, something anyone with the slightest percipience could have foreseen. Somewhere in Moby Dick Herman Melville warns sea captains not to hire “Platonists”—those with their eyes fixed only on invisible horizons—and he could have offered the same advice to law firms. But my time at the A&P was far from a complete loss. A month before I was fired, I was feeling so flush that I shopped for furniture, at Woodward & Lothrop, then DC’s largest department store. I chose a $400 sleeper sofa, blue and white plaid, a $150 butcher block table, and two Breuer chairs, which I had first seen in an optometrist’s shop and had thought were very classy. I didn’t have a credit card and didn’t know if Woodie’s would take a check, so I paid with $800 in cash, in the form of 16 fifties I had withdrawn from the bank the previous day. It was an investment that, though it might have seemed ill-timed, was in fact very much the reverse. Shortly after being fired, I started dating a young woman who would change my life significantly, a young woman who, I think, would not have dated a man who slept on a mattress on the floor and ate from a card table and a worn wicker chair.

Afterwords The rear windows of the Carriage House faced on the alley behind N Street. A “celebrity” hair dresser, whose name I never learned, parked one of three classic cars that he drove to work each day in that alley—a funereal-looking green and black pre-war Rolls Royce, a post-war Rolls that was cream with red pinstriping, and, surely the pièce de résistance, a midnight-blue coffin-nosed Cord convertible with a tan roof, its chrome supercharger exhaust pipes gleaming in the sun. I wonder how many people would drive such cars in rush-hour traffic today.

The top floor of the IAM building had both offices for Arnold & Porter and the Machinists’ Union. The A&P had lots of attractive, stylish young women who worked as secretaries and receptionists. One of them who sat at the front desk of the top floor told me how difficult it was to keep a straight face when the Machinists’ big shots came swanking in in their horrible 70s-era polyester leisure suits—mint green with white piping and matching white shoes, or what smirky journalists liked to call a “full Cleveland”, white suit, white shirt, and white shoes.

Shortly after I left the A&P, the Carriage House was commandeered by Carolyn Agger, a senior partner and Abe Fortas’ wife. Carolyn, who had been housed in the IAM building, was afraid of elevators, and wanted an office in a building with a nice staircase.

A year or so after I left, Arnold & Porter deserted N Street entirely, building the “Thurmond Arnold Building” at the corner of New Hampshire and M, but they didn’t stay there long. The firm has now merged with a New York law firm, Kaye Scholer, becoming Arnold & Porter Kaye Scholer LLP, with offices all around the world. The DC office is on Massachusetts Avenue, just southeast of Mt. Vernon Square, a stretch of road that constitutes one of several “lobbyist lanes” radiating from the Capitol.

During the McCarthy years, Arnold, Fortas, & Porter defended many people accused of communism. Fortas in particular was a frequent opponent of Joe McCarthy, but the opposition to his appointment as chief justice seemed to come mostly from southern Democrats, who often saw integration as a Jewish/communist plot. When Jesse Helms (R-NC) was elected to the Senate in 1972, one of his goals was to “get” the Jews. He was a furious opponent of Israel until the Reagan years, when it was finally explained to him that you couldn’t make it to the very top in DC unless you learned to play ball with AIPAC.

The White & Case Case involved another law firm, in New York. One of its senior partners, a Mr. Eply, was facing criminal charges brought by the Securities and Exchange Commission, accusing him of criminal behavior based on the advice he gave to a White & Case client, Cortez Randell, a sixties wheeler and dealer who ended up doing time, though, I’m pretty sure, Eply did not. The SEC’s case against Eply was one of first impression, and naturally White & Case was willing to move heaven and earth to protect both Eply and other attorneys who might find themselves in legal peril merely for trying to turn an honest buck or two.

The story of Cortez Randell and his company, National Student Marketing, had been spectacular enough to be the subject of a book, out in paperback while the White & Case Case was still gaining momentum, called The Funny Money Game, by Andrew Tobias, perhaps not the first and certainly not the last up and coming Harvard graduate to make a name for himself by writing a book about his experiences on Wall Street under the tutelage of Mammon.

The way National Student Marketing “worked”—the reason why Cortez Randell got so rich so quickly and then imploded—was that Randell had either discovered or invented “synergy”. This meant buying out firms that provided goods or services complementary to whatever it was NSM was already selling—“better together”, one might say. But the “real” secret was that NSM didn’t buy other companies with money; it used NSM stock instead, which was better than money, because it increased in value every year.

There are lots of things wrong with this model—NSM was going to run out of “complementary” firms to buy, NSM stock was going up because the economy was expanding and all stocks were going up, not because NSM was so fabulous—but the biggest and simplest reason of all is that any financial instrument that can be better than money can also be worse than money, setting a pattern that has repeated itself a number of times since, on a scale far more spectacular than NSM’s. Someone comes up with a brilliant idea, a better mousetrap, and makes a lot of money, and creates a financial instrument based on that idea—be it a simple share of stock, a mortgage-backed security, a collateralized debt obligation, or whatever—that is “better” than money, and a lot of people get rich on that financial instrument. Eventually, however, the better mousetrap, whatever it is, stops being better, and becomes the new normal. It’s lost its edge. But the people who have gotten rich off their “better than money” gimmick can’t believe that, or won’t believe that. The line that went around among the Wall Street geniuses who almost sank the world’s economy back in 2008 was that you don’t stop playing “Musical Chairs” until the music stops, even if you see the chairs disappearing. However, when the music had stopped, they started singing—and telling lies—until there were no chairs left, leaving the government to pay for all the furniture they’d destroyed.

#Arnold & Porter #White & Case #Eply

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thecazagroup · 2 years ago

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🏠 in #Washington DC 20005 1300 13th St NW #105 $649,999 🛏🛏 1 🛁🛁 1.5

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themarrero · 2 years ago

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Located in Mt. Vernon Square, just south of the Washington Convention Center is the Apple Carnegie Library. The Apple Carnegie Library was formerly the Washington DC Central Public Library which was donated to the citizens of Washington DC by Steel Magnate and entrepreneur Scottish American Andrew Carnegie which was dedicated in 1903. A beautiful Beaux-Arts building designed by New York firm of Ackerman and Ross, it served as a library for almost 70, was the first desegrated public building in DC, served the University of the District of Columbia, the Historical Society of Washington DC and finally in 2016, Apple made agreement and converted the first floor to an Apple Flagship Store. The basement serves as the Carnegie Gallery with historic photographs and the second floor houses the DC History Center. - [ ] #developportdev @gothamtomato @developphotonewsletter @omsystem.cameras #excellent_america #omsystem @bheventspace @bhphoto @adorama @tamracphoto @tiffencompany #usaprimeshot @visitwashingtondc @apple #applecarnegielibrary #microfourthirds #omd #m43photography (at Mt. Vernon Square) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClHwdm_PMnM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#developportdev #excellent_america #omsystem #usaprimeshot #applecarnegielibrary #microfourthirds #omd #m43photography

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etxtraveler · 7 years ago

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Historic Franklin County Courthouse in Mount Vernon, Texas. Historical Marker- Mt. Vernon was established in 1849 on land donated by Stephen and Rebecca Keith, and a public square was surveyed in the 24-acre plat. When Franklin County was created in 1875, Mt. Vernon was voted county seat, and a wooden building northeast of the square was used as the first courthouse. Lots on the block north of the square were soon purchased for $150 for a 2-story wooden jail costing $1,600. In 1878 a brick courthouse was built on the square at a cost of $5,500. In 1910 county commissioners ordered an election to decide the building of a new courthouse and jail. The commissioners' court then rescinded that order, called for construction warrants to be issued without election, and levied a property tax to pay for the new buildings. Citizens filed suit against the county, and in January, 1911, the district court prevented construction from proceeding. An appellate court overturned the decision and by December, 1911, the Texas Supreme Court had affirmed this method of financing county buildings. Within days of the landmark decision, Franklin County commissioners awarded a contract to L. R. Wright & Co. to construct this courthouse and adjacent jail. The buildings were completed in 1912 at a cost of $55,000. Photo by William Deneke.

#easttexas #etx #pineywoods #Texas #Texas Forest Trail #travel #east texas #beautiful #landscape #nat

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warlockwriter · 6 years ago

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The Case of the Techno Witch

Fandom: The Agency (AU)/Warlock Case Files

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1975

Summary: Strange multi-colored plant growing out of a computer? All in a day’s work for Dafydd Smith, Warlock.

A/N: This is both a crossover and a story with multiple OCs. My OCs. From my published series, hence the crossover. Blame @snips-snails-skittles for creating the below moodboard (used with permission) and giving me the idea of crossing Witch!Lex with my series. When I mentioned this in passing, he encouraged me to write it. So I did. Enjoy a little introduction to Dafydd, my warlock.

As always, many thanks to @ihaveallthesefeelsokay for the beta.

I was curled up on the couch in what was now our house, me having sublet my old apartment and moved in formally with Paul last week. Gyre and Gimble, my two ferrets, gamboled together back and forth over the living room floor. I hoped Paul wasn't going to mind their whirlwind play in his space.

Paul was giving me a foot rub. Have you ever had a foot rub from a vampire? Probably not, so let me make you jealous by letting you know exactly what you're missing. His hand are cool, a few degrees below body temperature, which feels fantastic after a long evening tracking down the minor demon who had been preying on the homeless population in D.C. We finally ran him to ground near the Air and Space Museum, which was fortunately closed at the time. Only a few people were around to watch Paul wrestle him to the ground and hold him while I did a quick exorcism. I was getting to be quite the expert at those. A couple of month ago we had dealt with a demon witch, and apparently she had let it be known that the nation's capital was a good hunting ground. We've been dealing with the aftermath ever since.

I'd convinced our stunned audience that we were practicing for a movie audition, and we'd hurried for home

Paul had just found the exact spot in my arch which hurt the most when my phone rang. I groaned, partially at his ministrations but mostly at the unhappy thought that someone had found another demon.

"It's Laura," Paul said, glancing over at my phone while not losing his rhythm on my feet.

I reached for the phone. Laura is an old friend of mine. She's a quadriplegic hacker who spends more time in the virtual world than the real one, for obvious reasons.

"Hey! What's up?" I asked as I took the call. I couldn’t help the involuntary groan that escaped me when Paul found another particularly sore spot,

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Laura asked.

"Just the most amazing foot rub you'd ever feel. Oops. You can't feel those, can you?"

Yeah, she and I have been friends long enough for me to get away with insensitive jokes like that.

"Very funny, Dafydd. I need you over here right now, so you'll just have to get your orgasmic foot rub later."

I could hear a mixture of exasperation, annoyance and maybe even a hint of fear in her voice. Paul stopped what he was doing to pay attention. Vampire hearing means he can listen to both sides of a phone conversation with ease.

"What happened? I asked, all joking out of my voice.

"I have a plant growing out of my computer!"

I blinked. "You have a what growing where?"

"You heard me. I have a plant growing out of my computer."

"Umm. Okay." What do you say to that anyway? "So call one of those lawn care companies? The ones who deal with weeds and stuff?"

"No. This is definitely your thing. The plant is purple and gold and kind of sparkly. And did I fail to get across that it is growing out of my fucking computer!"

I had to hold the phone away from my ear at that last bit.

"Yeah. I get it. We're on our way."

***

Paul made record time from Mt. Vernon Square to Laura's apartment in Crystal City. We skipped the elevator and dashed up the stairs. Well, Paul dashed. I kind of huffed and puffed. I am young and pretty fit, sure, but no human can keep up with a vampire.

Laura's door opened as soon as we approached. I tease her that she uses electronics the way I use magic. She always seems to like that.

However, there was no way I was teasing anyone when I walked into her living room. She hadn't been kidding. There was about six feet of purple and gold sparkly plant growing right out of her monitor. It hadn't broken anything. It was just growing out like it was designed to do that.

"Okay," I said. "That is weird, even for me."

Laura had rolled her chair as far from the computer as she could while still being in the same room with it. "What are you going to do about it?" Her eyes were flashing more in anger than in fear.

Paul moved over to take a closer look, all six-foot plus of him stalking around the computer table like a hunting panther. Did I fail to mention that his black slacks hugged his hips perfectly, and his white silk Oxford-style shirt made the image just perfect?

Why yes, I do admire my vampire boyfriend, even in the midst of danger. His ass is something else!

"Stop drooling over Paul, Dafydd, and do something about that thing!" Laura said, her tone vying between amusement and irritation.

Right. I allowed my sight to shift into aura sight, where I can read the energies which make up every living and most non-living things. I say most because technological things like computers don't have auras.

Well, usually don’t have auras. This one did. So did the plant. Not a crazy weird, looks like it's about to bite your head off aura, so not demonic. Which was a relief, considering. However, it did have the color of transformation magic about it. Which meant a warlock, or more likely witch—witches are stronger in transformation magic than warlocks—was responsible for this.

Okay, right. You probably have the wrong idea about witches and warlocks. We're just users of the magical energies that surround everything. Witches are female, and warlocks are what my kind calls male witches. So no deals with devils or other evil higher powers. I could go on for hours about how magic works, but you'll have to read the books about me which my chronicler has kindly penned.

"So, you’re right. It's magic. Probably a witch and one who has combined—" I paused, not really believing what I was about to say next.

"Combined what?" Paul asked.

"Well, combined earth magic with techno magic. Which I didn’t even know was a thing until now."

"Techno magic?" Laura asked, excitement in her voice. Yeah, she would fasten on that part.

"That's what it looks like. I mean, if you combined a hacker with a witch, this might be what you'd get." I walked around the computer desk, wanting to examine it from all sides.

As soon as I got to where I was facing the monitor screen, an image appeared, superimposed as if…well, by magic…on the blank screen. It was the face of a youngish man, maybe a few years older than me. He had brown hair verging on blond, striking amber eyes and…seriously? Long sideburns half-way down his cheeks and a soul patch? What decade was this guy even from?

"Dafydd Smith, I presume?" came a pleasant baritone voice through Laura's speakers,

"Uh, yeah. Who's asking? And what have you done to my friend's computer?"

"I'm Lex, and I understand you were looking to create a coven in the area. I was told that something dramatic was needed to attract your attention." The image waved a hand, encompassing the weird plant. "Does this do it?"

I couldn't help rolling my eyes at that. "Have you been talking to Caitlyn?" I asked.

Caitlyn is my apprentice, and she thought the best way to get my attention was to try to kill a ghoul friend of mine. And yes, I meant "ghoul" friend, not "girl" friend.

Lex's triumphant expression faltered a bit. "Uh, yes. Did I misunderstand?"

Paul had come around behind me. From the way his eyes were crinkled, I knew he was barely restraining himself from a good belly laugh. He does try to be polite, at least until he's been introduced.

I ignored Lex's question in favor of one of my own. I motioned to the plant. "What is this? And how did you do it?"

Laura had rolled her chair closer. "More important. Ask him if he can get rid of it without ruining my monitor. That thing cost major bucks."

I raised an eyebrow at Lex, whose expression was wilting rapidly. "What she asked."

The plant vanished, leaving the monitor apparently undamaged. Lex's image remained.

"That's better. Now to my question. How did you do it?"

He shrugged. "Combined earth witchcraft and techno magic. I'm a witch and a hacker."

I shook my head. "Unless I'm terribly mistaken, you're a warlock, not a witch."

Lex's jaw assumed a stubborn set. "I'm a witch, and you're being discriminatory. My mentor said I'd run into this."

Suddenly, I got it and groaned.

"What?" Paul and Laura asked.

"You were trained by Sam Johnston, weren't you?"

Lex nodded enthusiastically. "You've heard of him?"

I nodded, much less enthusiastically. "Yeah. He trained with my dad under my grandfather, who tried to get that whole 'witches can be male' idea out of Sam the entire time they were training. My dad took up the torch after he started leading his coven, and, to hear him tell it, Sam just up and left one day in disgust and refused to have anything to do with my family. So, if you're looking for your own coven, you may be looking in the wrong place."

Lex indicated where the plant had been. "Have it your way, but then explain why I'm so good at earth magic, traditionally a witch ability."

"And, Dafydd, aren't you particularly good at some witch abilities too?" Laura asked.

Way to have your friend stab you in the back. I glared at Paul, daring him to say something. He raised his hands in a not me! sort of gesture.

Lex was still watching me, an expression of polite interest on his face, sort of how do you intend to explain your way out of this one? look.

Sighing, I said, "Okay. Have it your way. If you want to call yourself a witch, go for it. And yes, I have been looking to form a coven. An earth…witch—" Yes, I had to force the word out. Sue me! "—would come in handy. We've got a witch-in-training, a warlock who channels angelic power and me. We're an odd coven already, so what the heck? Might as well invite you along."

Lex smiled.

I held up a warning finger. "Just one rule, though?"

"You're in charge?" Lex asked.

I shook my head. "Heck no! We make decisions together. No, I was going to say that Laura is my hacker of choice. No replacing her."

"Unless you can teach me techno magic," Laura hastily added.

I sighed. "Yeah, unless you can teach that."

Lex nodded. "Deal. What's next?"

I considered for a moment. "I guess I'll call a meeting of our newly expanded coven. If you're such a hot shot hacker, you should be able to find my phone number and text me yours. I'll call you when we've got a time set up."

My phone dinged, and I pulled it out. Seriously? That fast?

Laura even looked impressed. "That's not bad, Dafydd."

"Fine," I said to a smug-looking Lex. "I'll call you."

His face vanished, and the monitor looked none the worse for its experience. I turned away from it to face Laura and Paul.

"What have I done?"

Paul gave me his most encouraging smile. "Well, you said you wanted one more."

He was right. Okay. I've never been the most traditional warlock anyway. What made me think I'd attract a normal coven?

Paul and I made polite conversation for a few minutes with Laura before heading back home. The universe owed me the rest of my foot rub, darn it!

End

Everything tag: @archangelgabriellives (It’s sort of got Lex, so it’s okay, right?)

#warlockwriter fanfic #warlock case files #lex (the agency)#witchcraft

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