Wendy Joyce

Power. Forbidden knowledge. Gratification of every whim. My, my, that sorcerer talked a good game.
Wendy used to be just another faceless anthropology student. This annoyed her greatly: after all, was she not one of the prettiest and smartest kids in high school? Alas, nobody cared when she hit college. She buckled down to work, and did adequately well (she is very bright, for a human), but it still bothered her that she couldn't get what she wanted, just because she wanted it. When one of her professors noticed her combination of egotism, resentment and ability, her recruitment into the dark arts was inevitable.
Wendy didn't enjoy being an apprentice sorcerer much. Her "mentor" wasn't a particular nice man, even by the loose standards of his fellow hobbyists, and made it clear that tutoring Wendy would come with a price. The sex wasn't a problem: tantric rituals have their points. However, doing the ironing, cleaning, cooking and generally acting as an unpaid servant to her mentor was downright insulting. Plus, well, the sorcerer was an old man, and there's a limit to what disadvantages tantric rituals can hope to overcome. Still, Wendy persevered, gritting her teeth every step of the way and stealing peeks at her mentor's books whenever possible.
Things came to a head after about a year or so. It would seem that her mentor, having slowly but surely gotten more egotistical from having such an attractive concubine catering to his whims, finally went too far in one of his Summoning rituals. Wendy learned the First Rule of sorcery that night: "Do not call up what you cannot put down". Burning house, burning sorcerer, disgusting smells, fire trucks, police sirens ~ and there was Wendy, stuck in the middle of it all with a severed goat head and a wardrobe that would make a Servitor of Lust shiver from the cold.
Has it been mentioned yet that she was attending a Catholic college?
Well, after that night, she wasn't ~ and she got a (accurate) feeling that one or two of the faculty had put two and two together and come up with "trafficker in black magic". It seemed prudent to run ~ fast ~ which was probably wise of her, all things considered.
These days, Wendy ekes out a living as "The Great Dionysia", mentalist and hypnotist in a fifth rate traveling carnival. Her act consists mostly of getting people acting moderately uninhibitedly: she knows the basics of hypnotism, actually, but mostly it all comes down to suggestion and the low-cut costume she routinely wears. It's a living, but not much of one. She'd drop it in a second if she was sure that she wasn't still on some Vatican hit list (Wendy is fairly paranoid about the Catholic Church). She'd also like to find another source of sorcerous lore, but she hasn't found one yet.
Wendy isn't a very nice person, herself. She's vain, amoral, absolutely self-centered and quietly arrogant (one thing that Wendy has learned to do is to keep her mouth shut and fume in private). She'll make a great sorcerer someday, if she can only find someone to teach her sufficient rituals to become more than an annoyance. Any sorcerer worth his or her salt (or any demon on good terms with Fate) will find her to be a willing pupil: she'd make a decent enough servant for anyone else who can use someone of her limited skills. Angels trying to straighten her out will find the task incredibly frustrating: so much so, in fact, that they'll probably start musing about the fact that the Purifiers have an unlisted 1-800 number . . . .