Chapter Two: Toil and Trouble
Long after Newt the Intern had departed, Heck worked on his files. He studied his upcoming cases, and took notes on what compounds he would need to prepare for each situation. In a few cases, a little over the counter product like his patented Ghost-B-Gone would work just fine - but there were some that needed his full attention. A full day ahead - and he was glad that he'd have assistance. Hopefully the intern would prove worth his salt, and have a bit of competency to boot.
Heck headed for his laboratory in the basement with the checklist of supplies he'd need.
The basement was arranged according to purpose - there was a table for mixing and boiling and brewing, that reminded Heck a bit of a mad science lab - only without the madness, at least most days. There were tubes and beakers and burners, some bubbling with compounds that needed to be set on a slow burn for a few days before they distilled properly. Overhead hung all the usual plants, bound up in bunches and drying to a proper consistency - mugwort, mistletoe, holly, belladonna and foxglove, burdock and dill. Opposite all the breakables was the assembly table, for those situations when he brought work home that had to be pieced together or stitched up. A set of tools rested in a case by that table- some that a surgeon would envy the sharpness of for all the fine detailing, others like mallets and saws applied to a cruder purpose. Behind the table and tools sat the refrigerator and the large freezer, for keeping things fresh. Wouldn't do to let things rot, after all.
An assortment of jars sat atop the refrigerator, filled with murky liquid compounds - in most cases, a mixture of preservatives natural and chemical. Lining every wall that had some spare space not taken up by all this, there were shelves. Some contained powdered and chopped components, others had stacks of books - their spines cracked and bent, their pages yellowed with age. They were earmarked, and book marked, and had notes in the margins - the meanings of which were primarily only comprehensible to Heck. As he strolled down the stairs, he flicked on the overhead light. He checked all the boiling and bubbling things, adjusting the fires where needed, adding a bit of ginger here, a pinch of acrimony there. He checked the state of several herbs, picking out the ones that had dried sufficiently and taking them over to the work table to chop fine and store away in jars, labeling each appropriately then finding room for them where he could.
Heck then set to work on his checklist - pulling his Battle Box out from under the table to fill it with what he'd need. The Battle Box resembled an old-fashioned doctor's bag, leathery and black, with straps inside to hold bottles, jars, and tools in place. He hummed to himself as he started to pull things from the shelves to place into the Box - quite distracted by work until he heard familiar footsteps on the stairs. He sighed inwardly, but put on his best cheerful tone, without turning around. "Good evening, dear sister! I thought you'd headed home for the day..."
Charmaine paused when she got to the bottom step, and settled down to sit on it. "I did. And when Rhonda went home for the day, she called me and told me you were still working."
Heck groaned, and waved a sprig of witch hazel at Charmaine in hopes that it would make her go away. It didn't, of course, as its many wondrous properties did not include Protection From Sister.
"You need to slow down, Heck. Do you want to wind up like Abuelo?" Though her tone was sharp, her eyes showed her concern. Heck looked away.
"I have work to do, Char. It's the busy season! Only a month or so to Halloween, and everyone wants to raise a little something for the occasion. Not to mention, all the specters and ghouls that are getting geared up for their big night. It'll only get busier from here. Have you seen the salamander eyes?"
"They're right up there next to the wormwood," Charmaine said, pointing. "And do you know what time it is? It's almost midnight."
Heck hadn't been aware of the time, and he hesitated slightly as he pulled the eyes. They all seemed to be looking at him now, matching his sister's accusing stare. "Well, I'm almost done here. Just getting ready for tomorrow. Our intern's first day - and won't that be exciting?"
"Are you sure the college sent someone competent?" Charmaine asked, dubious. Even though taking on an intern had been her suggesting to begin with, she hadn't been part of the arrangements and her earlier run-in with the kid hadn't filled her with great amounts of confidence. Not that they had to pay him or anything, but if he was to be a help to Heck, he had to at least be able to hold a jar without dropping it. "What's his name again? Andrew something?"
"Newt," Heck supplied. "His name is Newt. And he'll do fine! Kid seemed to me like he was just dying to get into the business."
Charmaine rolled her eyes at the old pun. "He seemed to me like he'd be better off interning with the illusionist, doing party magic and getting sawed in half."
Heck snorted as he dropped the eyeballs carefully into a bubbling solution. They sizzled and crackled, and let off a faint wisp of red-tinged smoke. "Party magic? Please! Newt seems like a natural to me. That boy had necromancer written all over him. "
"In invisible ink? "
"No, metaphorically speaking - but certainly, I can tell - he's got the Gift. Wait until he gets here tomorrow- you'll see! He'll be raising cain and rattling bones in no time."
"Well, maybe." She was still dubious about the kid, but if Heck said so - it was usually so. At least as far as necromantic matters were concerned. Much like their parents, Charmaine had been born without an ounce of talent for any of the magical arts. All the necromantic talent from their grandfather had gone straight to Heck.
"Go home," Heck said, making a shooing gesture. "I'm almost finished here, then I'll go to bed. Get some work of your own done- how's the book coming?"
"Pretty well," Charmaine said, forcing a smile as talk turned to her latest work. There were the talents she had inherited - a gift for illustration, and writing. In addition to his primary career of Necromancy, Abuelo also wrote and illustrated children's books. His Z is for Zombie was still one of the best selling books for the preschool set - a fitting legacy to the man. Charmaine hadn't exactly followed in his footsteps for subject matter, however. Her books involved living children, usually learning some important lesson. Somehow, they never seemed to sell all that well - but she was hopeful one day she'd hit on the perfect concept and her career would really take off.
Until then, she supplemented her income by helping out at Necrotic Technologies, doing such important tasks as bookkeeping (Heck was terribly bad with the numbers), and keeping her brother from working himself to an early grave.
Heck looked up from packing a jar into the Box. "There, all done - you see? Now come on, let's see a real smile..." He headed over to give her a hug, patting her shoulder comfortingly. "I'm sure this book will be a real winner. Publishers from all around will be lining up, fighting it out - coming to fisticuffs over who gets the great honor of publishing Charmaine Vargas."
Charmaine laughed in spite of herself, and leaned her head on her brother's shoulder. "Well, if any of them die in the process, I'll be sure to recommend you."
"It's a plan, then." Heck smoothed her hair back, then kissed her forehead. "Come on now, I'll walk you to the door so you can go get some sleep and I promise I'll do the same. We've got a busy day ahead tomorrow, and Newt should be here bright and early for his own the job training. You can even give him a nice orientation if you like." Heck imagined this would involve a lot of questioning, the occasional bit of yelling and 'don't touch this!', activities that his sister truly enjoyed. He knew she'd been kind of down about the books lately, so he was happy to provide the opportunity. Besides, that meant less work for him, and hadn't she just been saying he worked too hard? It was a truly masterful plan - at least to Heck.
"Oh yeah? Hm, alright - that should be fun." Charmaine brightened at the thought of that, and sprung to her feet. "Someone's got to show the kid the ropes anyhow." Never mind that 'the kid' was her age - it was her job superiority that counted!
Heck escorted his sister up the stairs, out through the office, and to the front door. "Love you - sleep well, dear sister."
"You too, Heck - right to bed, okay?" She waggled a threatening finger.
"On my honor," Heck said - and he intended to follow through with that promise. Eventually.
"Oh, and Heck -- " Charmaine paused in the doorway.
"Yes?"
"Real classy today with the Mayor," she said, shaking her head. "He already has it in for you- why do you keep baiting him?"
Heck pressed a hand to his heart. "You wound me. Right here. Ouch.... I would never! Perish the thought. It was simply an unfortunate incident - how was I to know he'd been carrying on with Penelope Henderson for the past twenty years or so?"
Charmaine eyed him suspiciously. "I don't know how - I just know that you did."
"Never! I swear. Dear old Mr. Henderson simply wanted his wife back for their Golden Anniversary. Is that so bad? I think that's rather sweet, really..." Heck smiled a dreamy smile. "Ah, love!"
"Well that love was a little messy when Mrs. H was throwing herself at the Mayor during the budget meeting," Charmaine said, not fooled for a moment by Heck's innocent look. "You'd better be careful, Hector. They're already on you about the house, and those ordinances you violated ---"
"A mere misunderstanding!"
"And that time the skeletons got loose...."
"Not my fault!"
"And the whole little 'incident' with the pet cemetery..."
"A boy and his dog- who could keep them apart?"
"And now this. I just don't want to see you losing the place, Heck. Hell, at this point, they may drum you out of town THEN tear the house down," Charmaine cautioned.
Heck made a big show of yawning. "Oh my, sorry- I'm drifting off here. You're terribly right about that whole need for sleep thing. I should listen to you more often. Good night, my dear - dream sweetly, and see you in the morning.
Charmaine allowed herself to be ushered out the door, but all the way home she still worried about Heck.
(Word count: 1844)
Heck headed for his laboratory in the basement with the checklist of supplies he'd need.
The basement was arranged according to purpose - there was a table for mixing and boiling and brewing, that reminded Heck a bit of a mad science lab - only without the madness, at least most days. There were tubes and beakers and burners, some bubbling with compounds that needed to be set on a slow burn for a few days before they distilled properly. Overhead hung all the usual plants, bound up in bunches and drying to a proper consistency - mugwort, mistletoe, holly, belladonna and foxglove, burdock and dill. Opposite all the breakables was the assembly table, for those situations when he brought work home that had to be pieced together or stitched up. A set of tools rested in a case by that table- some that a surgeon would envy the sharpness of for all the fine detailing, others like mallets and saws applied to a cruder purpose. Behind the table and tools sat the refrigerator and the large freezer, for keeping things fresh. Wouldn't do to let things rot, after all.
An assortment of jars sat atop the refrigerator, filled with murky liquid compounds - in most cases, a mixture of preservatives natural and chemical. Lining every wall that had some spare space not taken up by all this, there were shelves. Some contained powdered and chopped components, others had stacks of books - their spines cracked and bent, their pages yellowed with age. They were earmarked, and book marked, and had notes in the margins - the meanings of which were primarily only comprehensible to Heck. As he strolled down the stairs, he flicked on the overhead light. He checked all the boiling and bubbling things, adjusting the fires where needed, adding a bit of ginger here, a pinch of acrimony there. He checked the state of several herbs, picking out the ones that had dried sufficiently and taking them over to the work table to chop fine and store away in jars, labeling each appropriately then finding room for them where he could.
Heck then set to work on his checklist - pulling his Battle Box out from under the table to fill it with what he'd need. The Battle Box resembled an old-fashioned doctor's bag, leathery and black, with straps inside to hold bottles, jars, and tools in place. He hummed to himself as he started to pull things from the shelves to place into the Box - quite distracted by work until he heard familiar footsteps on the stairs. He sighed inwardly, but put on his best cheerful tone, without turning around. "Good evening, dear sister! I thought you'd headed home for the day..."
Charmaine paused when she got to the bottom step, and settled down to sit on it. "I did. And when Rhonda went home for the day, she called me and told me you were still working."
Heck groaned, and waved a sprig of witch hazel at Charmaine in hopes that it would make her go away. It didn't, of course, as its many wondrous properties did not include Protection From Sister.
"You need to slow down, Heck. Do you want to wind up like Abuelo?" Though her tone was sharp, her eyes showed her concern. Heck looked away.
"I have work to do, Char. It's the busy season! Only a month or so to Halloween, and everyone wants to raise a little something for the occasion. Not to mention, all the specters and ghouls that are getting geared up for their big night. It'll only get busier from here. Have you seen the salamander eyes?"
"They're right up there next to the wormwood," Charmaine said, pointing. "And do you know what time it is? It's almost midnight."
Heck hadn't been aware of the time, and he hesitated slightly as he pulled the eyes. They all seemed to be looking at him now, matching his sister's accusing stare. "Well, I'm almost done here. Just getting ready for tomorrow. Our intern's first day - and won't that be exciting?"
"Are you sure the college sent someone competent?" Charmaine asked, dubious. Even though taking on an intern had been her suggesting to begin with, she hadn't been part of the arrangements and her earlier run-in with the kid hadn't filled her with great amounts of confidence. Not that they had to pay him or anything, but if he was to be a help to Heck, he had to at least be able to hold a jar without dropping it. "What's his name again? Andrew something?"
"Newt," Heck supplied. "His name is Newt. And he'll do fine! Kid seemed to me like he was just dying to get into the business."
Charmaine rolled her eyes at the old pun. "He seemed to me like he'd be better off interning with the illusionist, doing party magic and getting sawed in half."
Heck snorted as he dropped the eyeballs carefully into a bubbling solution. They sizzled and crackled, and let off a faint wisp of red-tinged smoke. "Party magic? Please! Newt seems like a natural to me. That boy had necromancer written all over him. "
"In invisible ink? "
"No, metaphorically speaking - but certainly, I can tell - he's got the Gift. Wait until he gets here tomorrow- you'll see! He'll be raising cain and rattling bones in no time."
"Well, maybe." She was still dubious about the kid, but if Heck said so - it was usually so. At least as far as necromantic matters were concerned. Much like their parents, Charmaine had been born without an ounce of talent for any of the magical arts. All the necromantic talent from their grandfather had gone straight to Heck.
"Go home," Heck said, making a shooing gesture. "I'm almost finished here, then I'll go to bed. Get some work of your own done- how's the book coming?"
"Pretty well," Charmaine said, forcing a smile as talk turned to her latest work. There were the talents she had inherited - a gift for illustration, and writing. In addition to his primary career of Necromancy, Abuelo also wrote and illustrated children's books. His Z is for Zombie was still one of the best selling books for the preschool set - a fitting legacy to the man. Charmaine hadn't exactly followed in his footsteps for subject matter, however. Her books involved living children, usually learning some important lesson. Somehow, they never seemed to sell all that well - but she was hopeful one day she'd hit on the perfect concept and her career would really take off.
Until then, she supplemented her income by helping out at Necrotic Technologies, doing such important tasks as bookkeeping (Heck was terribly bad with the numbers), and keeping her brother from working himself to an early grave.
Heck looked up from packing a jar into the Box. "There, all done - you see? Now come on, let's see a real smile..." He headed over to give her a hug, patting her shoulder comfortingly. "I'm sure this book will be a real winner. Publishers from all around will be lining up, fighting it out - coming to fisticuffs over who gets the great honor of publishing Charmaine Vargas."
Charmaine laughed in spite of herself, and leaned her head on her brother's shoulder. "Well, if any of them die in the process, I'll be sure to recommend you."
"It's a plan, then." Heck smoothed her hair back, then kissed her forehead. "Come on now, I'll walk you to the door so you can go get some sleep and I promise I'll do the same. We've got a busy day ahead tomorrow, and Newt should be here bright and early for his own the job training. You can even give him a nice orientation if you like." Heck imagined this would involve a lot of questioning, the occasional bit of yelling and 'don't touch this!', activities that his sister truly enjoyed. He knew she'd been kind of down about the books lately, so he was happy to provide the opportunity. Besides, that meant less work for him, and hadn't she just been saying he worked too hard? It was a truly masterful plan - at least to Heck.
"Oh yeah? Hm, alright - that should be fun." Charmaine brightened at the thought of that, and sprung to her feet. "Someone's got to show the kid the ropes anyhow." Never mind that 'the kid' was her age - it was her job superiority that counted!
Heck escorted his sister up the stairs, out through the office, and to the front door. "Love you - sleep well, dear sister."
"You too, Heck - right to bed, okay?" She waggled a threatening finger.
"On my honor," Heck said - and he intended to follow through with that promise. Eventually.
"Oh, and Heck -- " Charmaine paused in the doorway.
"Yes?"
"Real classy today with the Mayor," she said, shaking her head. "He already has it in for you- why do you keep baiting him?"
Heck pressed a hand to his heart. "You wound me. Right here. Ouch.... I would never! Perish the thought. It was simply an unfortunate incident - how was I to know he'd been carrying on with Penelope Henderson for the past twenty years or so?"
Charmaine eyed him suspiciously. "I don't know how - I just know that you did."
"Never! I swear. Dear old Mr. Henderson simply wanted his wife back for their Golden Anniversary. Is that so bad? I think that's rather sweet, really..." Heck smiled a dreamy smile. "Ah, love!"
"Well that love was a little messy when Mrs. H was throwing herself at the Mayor during the budget meeting," Charmaine said, not fooled for a moment by Heck's innocent look. "You'd better be careful, Hector. They're already on you about the house, and those ordinances you violated ---"
"A mere misunderstanding!"
"And that time the skeletons got loose...."
"Not my fault!"
"And the whole little 'incident' with the pet cemetery..."
"A boy and his dog- who could keep them apart?"
"And now this. I just don't want to see you losing the place, Heck. Hell, at this point, they may drum you out of town THEN tear the house down," Charmaine cautioned.
Heck made a big show of yawning. "Oh my, sorry- I'm drifting off here. You're terribly right about that whole need for sleep thing. I should listen to you more often. Good night, my dear - dream sweetly, and see you in the morning.
Charmaine allowed herself to be ushered out the door, but all the way home she still worried about Heck.
(Word count: 1844)