TITLE: Icarus Manor, chapter 8
AUTHOR: lillywhite1, but you can call me Casey.
SUMMARY: In a mysterious mansion in a secluded part of North America, a man 
discovers that he is far from alone in the world. Here at Icarus Manor several species of 
non-human description live together to survive in a world that does not know they exist. 
LAST CHAPTER: Dominic gets back to work. Someone is punished for their crimes. 
Foreboding lurks. THIS CHAPTER: Sean begins his new work. Responsibilities trickle 
down.
PAIRING: Eventual DM/BB
RATING: R; still setting up the base for the affair.
FEEDBACK: is my neutella on a spoon that makes me go all gooey and melty and 
mmmmm...
A/N: Text in asterisks (*) represents italics or general emphasis. This is a book and a 
work in progress. Be gentle. Comments to cswann1@gmail.com.

Chapter 8
	
Sean dressed for his first day of work after Mr. Boyd’s alteration of his status. Today was 
to be the first day that he spent in the dungeons. Dressing was a more difficult task than it 
normally would be because today Sean had no inclination as to what to wear. He was half 
convinced he should wear his best suit to save the morticians the trouble of dressing him 
for his coffin. Although, if the beasts in the basement killed him, he would doubt there 
would be much of a body left to burry.

Tense and anxious feet found Sean sooner, rather than later at the dungeon steps. It was 
still terrifying even in the daytime: The long walk down the mucky and dank hallway 
past the mangled, twisted doorways through a sea of odd noises and shuffling, scuffing 
sounds as the monsters shifted themselves inside their stalls; the walls coated thinly in 
growing masses of strange plants and disturbing slime-molds. The only difference now 
was that at this time of day the ceiling and walls revealed small windows that filtered 
glittering sunlight into the dank hallway. 
*Too bad the skylights are just enchantments. Otherwise, it would be a lot less muggy 
down here.* Sean thought as he swatted away an impressively large fly. *These flies are 
larger than horseflies. I wonder what kind of horse they swarm around.*

Sean’s wondering stopped when two pairs of wide, laughing reptilian eyes trained their 
gaze on him. It was then that he noticed his new coworkers.

“Well, if it isn’t Seanie Ass-tin. Degradation has never been so sweet. Has it, Deimos?” 

“No, it hasn’t Phobos. Tell me what we did that was so nice to allot us this little visit?”

The Ophid Twins: Two of the least likable members of the native Brazilian species of 
serpent people. The rumor was that they were thrown out of their native desert tribe for 
making too much trouble and having little respect for anyone or anything else. No one 
knew why they were here at Icarus Manor. They were small-time criminals and Sean had 
no idea why Mr. Boyd would let such characters live under his roof. Then again, they 
were down here in the dungeons. 

They spread their wicked smiles wider as they recognized their new worker. The tiny 
orange scales that covered their hairless heads nearly rippled in repulsive reptilian 
excitement. The nose slits opening and closing in agitation. 

“Oh, no my dear brother. This isn’t any normal business call Mr. Astin is paying to us.”

“No, my brother? Please enlighten me as to the nature of Seanie’s internment in our cozy 
little tunnel.”

They circled him as if in some strange dance, their snake tongues slipping out of their 
mouths and thrashing in whispers. Sean instinctively drew himself up. These creatures 
could bite. The wolf in him wanted to strike out quickly before they did; the human knew 
that was not wise. Sean felt like a spooked horse between two cobras. They crept up very 
close to his face before saying,

“He is here because he is now one of us.” 

“No!”

“Yes.”

“Yesss.”

“He has been rejected by his beloved employer. Yes?”

“Yesss.”

“Yessss. And now will have to join us.”

“Yesss.”

“Yessssssss…” They said as they repeated the word and let that slithering ‘s’ wrap about 
Sean’s head, hypnotizing him so slyly and moving their hooded heads in sync with an 
unheard rhythm. A drumbeat of ancient origin floated though his drowsy mind and lulled 
him. The bare tickle of snake tongues flitted over his cheeks and face. Sean could feel his 
eyes sliding shut under the lidless stare of the twins. When he hit the filthy ground, the 
quiet, drum-less world came back and so did maniacal, hissing laughter.

This was going to be worse than he thought.

“Pardon us, Signor. It has been a while since there has been anyone but the two of us 
down here. That last helper was—”

“—eaten a long time ago. But do not fear, Seanie.”

“We will *try* to take better care of you.”

“I appreciate the effort, fellas.” Sean replied to another bought of hissing laughter. 

Several hours later, Sean understood why no one who did right by Mr. Boyd got a job 
down here. The danger was everywhere. The first part of the day was resigned to taking 
the large animals out of their stalls, cleaning them, mucking the stalls, then shoving the 
monster or monsters back inside before they realized the security around them was 
weakened.

The first animal was a Bagloch: A large, wooly animal with fangs made precisely for 
puncturing any hide. It looked like a mammoth with walrus tusks. The eyes tiny and 
insect like gave the impression that it saw wherever you were, and as the eyes rotated 
around the hideous head in a circuit, Sean felt its stare even more strongly. The Twins 
dove into the stall, injected the animal with a tranquilizer, and dragged the thing out by its 
tiny—and apparently very sensitive—ears. They tied ropes to the sharp tusks while the 
animal screeched and bowed its head, but not before it managed to scratch Sean’s left 
arm. Then using powerful solutions with very high pHs, they cleaned the stall with masks 
and shovels. 

Sean stepped into the stall, bracing himself for the stench and wielding his shovel before 
him when he was shocked by what was inside the Bagloch’s liar. Just inside the door was 
a huge cave. It was dark and gloomy with very little light. Large stalagmites loomed in 
the distance. The Twins’ shuffling echoed off the cave walls. He could smell the 
dampness and the molds. Sean was amazed, but as he walked toward the back of the stall 
he noticed something that he would bet the Bagloch couldn’t. It was an illusion. It was an 
enchantment and nothing more however clever; A perfect replica of the Bagloch’s natural 
environment, and a stunning display of magic. 

“Wake up Seanie. We’ve got many more stalls to clean and the animals are getting 
hungry. You don’t want them hungry for too long, do you, my brother?”

“No, no, you don’t want them to go for you rather than the food. We’ve lost many before 
that exact way.” 

Sean turned his head to meet with twin sinister grins before thrusting his spade deep into 
the Bagloch’s filth and chucking it into a wheelbarrow lined with a sour white powder.

The second stall to be cleaned was that of a pack of Jujuah. These little creatures were 
more like rabbits than anything else except for the long armored tail. The puny things 
take down their prey—and their would-be stall-cleaners—by cuddling up close to them, 
then swinging their club-like tails to knock out the feet from underneath the prey, laying 
them flat on the ground so that they can rip into their prey with razor-sharp teeth. Not a 
bunny this wolf would like to chase.

Sean glanced at the imagery in this stall to find small grassy knolls and low shrubs on the 
edge of a lush, green forest. It was astonishingly realistic and the Jujuah seemed to be so 
thoroughly convinced by it that they didn’t want to leave the stall, just as the Bagloch 
didn’t. 

“Hold on to your cojones, Seanie.” One of the Twins said, tapping the mask over his 
mouth. Sean dropped his mask into place just in time to see the Twins come at the 
creatures with a gas pumped mechanically from a backpack. The gas knocked the Jujuah 
unconscious and then they dropped them one-by-one in a very small cage. Sean, upon 
picking up the third unconscious Jujuah, couldn’t help but think that it was a terribly 
inhumane way to treat animals. But he still shoveled out the pen just the same.

“Put a bit more of that hairy back into it, Seanie. If those things wake up before we’re 
finished, you’ll learn how they got their name.” One of the Twins said leaning from the 
side of the stall.

“Why don’t you shut your slotted face and put your back into it? Or were your ancestors 
worms and you don’t have backbones?”

Two very serious pairs of yellow reptilian eyes glared at him from outside of bent and 
chewed bars.

“We would advise you to do what we say *without* the backtalk.”

“There is far too much room for error down here.”

Sean walked out of the pen angrily and tossed down some shredded hay before loudly 
dropping his spade to the hall floor.

~

Four hours later, Sean and the Twins had mucked out the stalls of three very peculiar 
pachyderms, a downtrodden eagle-dog thing, a couple of lion-stone-squirrel whatevers, a 
porcu-pig, a flying cat-bird-fish, and what seemed to be a very large gerbil with 
chameleon-like abilities. 

Sean had been scratched, bitten twice, knocked over (three times), chased, pounced on, 
pricked, flown into, and terribly intimidated by a large rodent. 

And it was only noon.

The prick from the porcu-pig thing was very possibly poisonous. It had turned a lovely 
shade of magenta and pulsed with a subtle searing pain. Sean decided this was a nice 
opportunity to crawl back into the—real—sunlight for a visit to the good Dr. Mortenson. 
He could also use a break from the Twins. He was half-sure that they weren’t exactly 
looking out for him at the moment the porcu-pig had charged his way.

Sean stumbled up the basement stairs and headed for the doctor’s office. He just hoped 
that Viggo was in. He knocked, and thankfully, the door was opened and a very worried 
Dr. Mortenson greeted him. 

“Come on in, Sean, and sit on the examining table.” Viggo said as he wrapped an arm 
around him and practically lifted him onto the table. “Alright, which one was it?”

“It was probably both Deimos and Phobos, but shouldn’t you be asking me about the 
animal?”

Viggo chuckled as he filled a syringe with a luminescent fluid.

“It was a large pig-ish animal with quills like a porcupine. It didn’t seem too happy about 
me trying to lure it out of its stall.”

“No, sadly, the Quilled Swine you mentioned does not like visitors. It doesn’t like being 
doused with sedatives, either.”

“No, I didn’t think that many of the animals enjoyed being knocked cold, but what else 
are we supposed to do in order to get them out of their quarters?”

Viggo shook his head sadly. Once the injection was finished, the wound turned a bright 
red.

“This may hurt a little, Sean.” Viggo mentioned before draping a sterile cloth over the 
wound.

“What do you mean—” Sean was overcome by another burst of exquisite agony as the 
wound on his arm physically exploded under the cloth. A loud pop was followed by a 
little smoke, and then, the pain subsided.

“So, how do you feel?” Viggo said a little too casually for Sean’s arm just having 
exploded.

“Fine, I guess. It doesn’t hurt quite so much anymore.”

“Turn away, please.” Viggo lifted the cloth and poured something on the wound. An 
itchy-tingling sensation caused Sean to turn back and see that the wound was quickly 
healing thanks to a couple of very small creatures that seemed to be encouraging the skin 
to close.

“I meant how you’re feeling about your new position, Sean.” Viggo looked concerned. 
He held up a bottle and shooed the two creatures into it. They jumped in happily and 
began to swim about in the greenish water.

“Oh, that. Well, I’m ecstatic that I’m not dead yet.”

“Not every creature down there is as dangerous as that one.”

“Yeah, well none of them seem to particularly like me.”

“Sean, can you imagine someone coming into your house every day to inject you with 
tranquilizers that probably make you ill, shoving you in a sack, and then putting you back 
whenever they want to? As a werewolf, I would think you would be more sympathetic to 
the poor animals.”

“I understand fully what they’re feeling, but I lost my sympathy after the third 
trampling.”  He answered bitterly.

Viggo leaned against the table with an expression that showed his interest in what Sean 
had to say. Viggo was always a good listener.

“I wish I could help it, but what am I supposed to do? Leave the door open and hope the 
animal flies, crawls, or charges into the holding pen? I just want to do well at this, but 
half way through my first day, I’m wounded and probably need to take the rest of the day 
off. I just don’t want to disappoint the boss further. I know he despises me now and I 
can’t afford to fuck up on my first day of work. You won’t tell him, will you Viggo?” 

“As a doctor, I hold complete confidentiality, unless it is against the law or someone’s 
life is in danger,” Viggo sighed, “but I don’t like you being down there, Sean, especially 
if this is how the typical day is going to look. I won’t tell Mr. Boyd about my concerns 
for you life unless this is the way that it stays for a prolonged period of time. If I feel that 
you are in danger too often, I am going to voice my opinion to him. I hope it doesn’t 
come to that. If it were too threatening a job for you, I would hope that you would be the 
first to pipe-up about it. Just be careful.”

“I will, Viggo. I will.”

Viggo gave him a hard look.  “You would swallow your pride and tell Mr. Boyd about 
your job being too hazardous?”

“Yes.” Sean said simply as he dodged a second worried stare from Viggo, and he turned 
to leave.

“How about your friends? Have you spoken to Orlando or Elijah lately?”

Sean paused. He allowed his two friends’ faces to flutter through his mind. He shut them 
out as soon as the emotion became too much.  “No. No, I haven’t.”

“I’m sure they miss you, Sean.”

Sean turned.  “Why would you think that? Why wouldn’t you assume that they would 
want nothing to do with me? I almost committed murder.”

“But it was your luck that you didn’t. Dominic is alive and well. Should they not get 
another chance at your friendship? Should they be punished for what you did?”

“Why don’t they just come to me if they miss me so much?”

“You’ve been hiding from them; from all of us. If you stop running, maybe they’ll find 
you. If you go to them, it will be that much sooner till you’re back in their good graces.”

Sean knew in his heart that Viggo was right, but what he didn’t know was how Orlando 
and Elijah would react to him. He didn’t want to be rejected, but perhaps rejection was 
better than exile. Perhaps it was better that they didn’t think that he was indifferent to 
them and how they feel.

“Thank you, Viggo. Do I have permission to take the rest of the day off to find my 
friends?”

“Yes, Sean, I think that would be a wonderful idea with a very plausible excuse. Good 
day.”

~

It was nearing noon on the fifth day of library work when Dominic realized that he had 
forgotten his lunch. With the way that the foggles had demolished his lunch the previous 
day, Dominic had the foresight to pack something for them as well. Dominic gave Mr. 
Boyd a courteous nod as he trotted down a hallway towards the kitchen. And by the 
moon, if Mr. Boyd hadn’t nodded back so very sweetly with those lovely moss-green 
eyes of his. Dominic’s heart did a little flip-flop that didn’t register in his conscious mind. 
With a hand on the banister of the main staircase, he paused. A familiar jingling voice 
swam welcomingly towards his thropic ears.

Elijah. He was a couple of floors up and perhaps a dozen paces to the left.

Dominic felt sneaky and mischievous. He crept up the stair toward his victim/friend. It 
took far too much energy to squash the playful growls that rose in his throat. He hadn’t 
snuck up on anyone like this since he was a kid. And if he ever managed to catch his 
brother by surprise, he’d never admit it and his sister always cried and ran to mommy’s 
loving paws and he’d get scolded. But now he knew that he could get Elijah really good 
without punishment. It would be fun; besides, he was tired of everyone asking him how 
he was feeling and if he was better now. He was completely fine and he was going to 
show everyone individually with a good-humored prank.

At the fourth floor he rounded the staircase and stalked closer to Elijah’s voice. Dominic 
couldn’t hear any other voices, but Elijah was certainly not speaking to himself. Perhaps 
he was on the phone. Even better. The prey was distracted.

“…we would like to make sure you are continuously content here…”

Dominic snuck a peek around the corner to see Elijah with his back to him. Perfect. He’d 
just wait till he was done talking and when he came around the corner BAM! Dominic 
would knock him on his ass.

“…I am not positive on that matter; however, I will ask Mr. Boyd. And he would like to 
express his gratitude once again to you that you discovered the identity of Mr. 
Monaghan’s attacker…”

*My attacker? Why haven’t I had a chance to thank these people? And why is Elijah 
talking like that?*

“…We will be in close touch, I assure you. Thank you.”

And with that, Elijah’s footsteps began to lead toward Dominic’s less-than concealed 
position.

Dominic’s legs tensed in anticipation. *Easy boy.*

Then it was too much for him. As Elijah’s footstep sounded just a few feet from the 
corner, Dominic rounded the corner and pounced on his prey with amazing speed. Elijah 
let out a faintly girly scream as they toppled to the ground. Dominic managed to cradle 
Elijah’s head with his hand before it hit the ground too hard and giggled inanely into the 
carpet as the blue-eyed merman caught his breath and playfully punched his predator in 
the ribs.

“Ass-face. You scared the shit out of me.”

“That was the general idea, Yankee.” Dominic chuckled.

“You English Bastard. Get. Off. Me.” 

Dominic didn’t budge. “I thought you would have heard me coming with those wonderful 
merman ears of yours and all.”

“I happened to be distracted and I wasn’t expecting 160 pounds of werewolf to come 
bounding at me from around the corner with the intension of landing on my lungs!” 

~

At this very same moment, Sean climbed up the third floor stairs also in pursuit of Elijah. 
A bit of nervousness constricted Sean’s throat as he anticipated Elijah’s reaction to seeing 
him for the first time in a week or so. What a bastard Sean had been to neglect his 
friends, especially his Elijah.

As Sean’s head peaked over the top of the fourth floor landing, he was surprised to see 
Elijah on the floor with someone on top of him. Jealousy and possessive anger flooded 
through him. His Elijah was on the floor with someone else in a very compromising 
position. And as that someone laughed and turned his head, Sean saw it was Dominic. 
The anger boiled into steaming rage.

Dominic stood and offered his friend a hand. Sean ground his teeth as Dominic touched 
his Elijah and brushed him off. He listened.

“You look nice. You’re all dressed up. What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion you random-attacking, ass-licking, howling-at-the-moon type person. I’ve 
been asked to take over Sean’s duty as general ambassador to the rest of the staff for Mr. 
Boyd.”

“Ah, so Orlando’s taken over food preparation and maintaining the kitchen; you’re the 
new staff manager. What do I get?”

“You get to be the new beta-male. Top-dog, you might say.” Elijah laughed.

Sean crouched down on the stairs. He had heard enough. His demeaned status was 
shameful enough without hearing Elijah say it so bluntly. Elijah didn’t mean it, he knew 
that, but it hurt nonetheless. Sean had been replaced in every solitary sense: both in his 
job, and the hearts of his friends. He slunk away and the voices faded into the 
background.

“’Lij, I advise you to stay away from making bad puns. They are dangerous things and 
can get you horribly disfigured just like playing the accordion on a crowded public bus 
during rush-hour.”

“Shut your gob, you know I’m just kidding.”

“Stay away from trying to be English as well. It doesn’t suit you.”

Once again, Dominic got the sense that someone or something was watching them. This 
feeling would sweep over him time and time again when he was in the house, although at 
this moment it was stronger. No scent ever came from them and that bothered Dominic.

“’Lijah, who were you talking to?”

Elijah beckoned Dominic toward a near-by hallway.

“Ladies, there is someone who wants to meet you.”

If Dominic had thought he was getting used to the strange things that went on in this 
house, he was proven wrong at this moment. Two wispy forms of two pairs of old-
fashioned shoes were hovering ever so faintly under the nearby window. When Dominic 
looked harder through the streaming sunlight, he saw that the two pairs of shoes belonged 
to two indistinct clouds and from them came a whistling, whispering sound that was 
almost language.

“Dear ladies, please come away from the window.” Elijah spoke sweetly to the clouds, 
and slowly, they emerged from the sunlight into the shade. There they congealed oh so 
slightly so that Dominic could make out separate bodies. Both women had been of 
African descent. Their dresses were plain circa 1850 with a modest collar and few 
petticoats. The only difference was that one of them carried herself a little differently as if 
she was a few years older than the other at the time of their deaths. Both ghosts glowed 
from within and sparkled just a little, although they were shy. They had probably been 
servant girls before they had died.

“Ladies, I would like to you meet Dominic. He is the young man that your kind 
intervention truly benefited. Dominic, these beautiful ladies are Camilla and Rosaline.”

*“How do you do?”* 

The voices of the ghosts were quiet and whispery. Had Dominic not been staring at them 
directly, he could have easily mistaken their words as rustling drapes or a strong draft 
through the expensive woodwork. 

“Dominic, these lovely ladies alerted Mr. Boyd that you were being attacked in the 
dungeon.”

Dominic made a deep bow, “How do you do, ladies. I thank you for your admission to 
my employer about Sean’s transgression. And may I say that you are two of the most 
lovely ladies I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.” 

Elijah rolled his eyes ever so slightly at Dominic’s mocking language. The two ghosts 
blushed, but all over, in a range of shades. Dominic was intrigued to witness the female 
ghosts fade momentarily into color and then out. 

“*You are too kind, sir.*” Their intertwined voices were a bit more distinct this time. 

“And may I also say that I am saddened to have had residence in this manor for so long 
and never so much as glimpsed you dazzling gems prior to this very introduction. Tell 
me, where have you been hiding yourselves; for to rob us of your company for this long 
must be the cruelest of crimes.”

Again the ghosts blushed into color for a brief time before fading out again. 

“Yes, well, Dominic, we have to be going now, do we not?” Elijah tugged rudely at his 
arm before throwing another devastating smile at the two vaporous maids. “Thank you 
again, Ladies.”

“Yes, the entire world’s worth of thanks to you.” Dominic tried for an elaborate bow with 
Elijah pulling him off-center, but stumbled out of it at the last second to save himself the 
embarrassment of falling over. Elijah hurried him down a flight of stairs.

“What are you doing?!”

“Me? You were the one who started the frilly talk. I was just playing along.”

Elijah narrowed his azure blue eyes at him and took on a very serious tone.

“Look, Dom, you have to be careful with the ghosts. They can be very temperamental.” 
Elijah didn’t slow his jolting speed as he hurried them both down the staircase.

“They weren’t temperamental then and there, were they? They were sweet.”

“Yes, yes they were.”

On the bottom floor, Elijah stopped and searched the stairs for anyone else, then tugged 
Dominic once more down a hallway towards their quarters. 


“The ghosts were fine *then*. They can get…strange on you. It’s delicate. I wouldn’t 
expect you to understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dominic was a bit affronted at this semi-harsh 
statement.

Once in the hallway of the employee apartments, Elijah stopped by his door, number 111.

“I’m sorry Dom, I’m just a little stressed out. This new job has been taking up all of my 
time and when I don’t get to swim, I get cranky. I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s okay, ‘Lij. I understand.”

“Didn’t mean to snap at you.” Elijah jingled his keys.

“It’s okay.”

“I just can’t help it somet—”

“ELIJAH! It’s okay, damn it.” Dominic had to search for the merman’s eyes before he 
believed that Elijah had—at last—forgiven himself. He coaxed a smile out of him, and 
left it at that. 

“Now, kindly tell me what those transparent ladies did for me?”

“Oh, right. The night of your…well…bashing, they heard the commotion and told Mr. 
Boyd. That’s at least what I guess happened. I mean, Mr. Boyd somehow found out you 
were in trouble, and he said to thank those two maids, but I doubt they remember 
anything about it. Ghosts don’t seem to remember things that happened after their death 
very well or for very long. Has something to do with their ectoplasm, or was that 
banshees? Oh god I can’t remember.

“Let me show you what my new job entails. It’s insane. I have to talk to everyone on the 
staff at least once a week. They are all different species; some require language 
modifications, like Camilla and Rosaline. Other employees don’t even speak human 
dialects. I don’t know how I’m going to learn Roubbesh by this week.”

“There’s a language called Rubbish?” 

“Not Rubbish. Roubbesh. I could try to communicate telepathically, but Mr. Boyd says 
that it’s not nice just to jump into someone’s head if you’ve never spoken to them out 
loud, and I know, but it would be so much easier. And I’ve got to learn the rules that go 
with every thrope and the ways not to offend them and by the fucking Pacific, I’m going 
to explode before I get a chance to memorize any of this stuff.”

Elijah flopped down on his sofa and let out a whoosh of exasperated air.

“And the ghosts?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve got a damn manual. It’s on the coffee table. Take a look under ‘specter.’”

Dominic flipped through the pages of the laminated book and read:

SPECTER  (sp?k’ t?r)
	Definition:
	
	Usually spirits who are of little power or malevolence, specters of any kind are delicate 
creatures. Prone to distraction, they can be hard to communicate with. Specters in general will not 
assimilate new knowledge of any kind and suffer from permanent dementia, although, stronger 
specters of greater clarity can often maintain tangible conversation for mere minutes before they 
disband themselves to reenergize.   
	WARNING: Exceptionally temperamental. Any attention paid to a specter increases its 
power and ability to become substantial, although impermanent. Establishing relationships with 
specters is discouraged, for they can form a dependence bordering on addiction.
	LANGUAGES: Language will carry over from the specter’s lifetime. NOTE: the time 
period of the language will also stay the same.
	CUSTOMS AND TABOOS: All customs and taboos for the specter have carried over 
from their lifetime; however, most specters become extremely violent when their spiritual body is 
penetrated in any fashion. 

“Violent? Those two? I don’t know if I can fathom that.”

“You don’t want to,” Came the muffled reply from the depths of the sofa.

“Who’s next on your list of oogie-boogies to talk to?”

“I have to make some calls to a couple of vampires in the Ukraine to smooth over a 
botched delivery from yesterday, and check on a shipment of Viggo’s medical supplies 
from Nepal. Then perhaps I can pass out if nothing else goes wrong.” Elijah sighed, “It 
was so much easier just being the handyman around the house. Having a real job sucks 
my non-human anal cavity. I even miss guard duty.”

Dominic glanced at the semi-conscious merman lying awkwardly face-down in his couch 
and thought it best if he left him to catch up on some well-deserved rest.

“I’ve got to get back to the library. I’ll see you at dinner, yeah?”

Elijah didn’t even reply. He just vaguely waved his hand in farewell.

Dominic was a quarter mile from the kitchen when he heard Orlando’s voice.

“Don’t care if it takes three days to get those fish from Maine! I ordered them a week ago 
and I expected to have them tonight! It’s your fault for messing up the order! You 
are…fuck it…I want to talk to your manager.”

Dominic laughed lightly to himself. Orlando hard at work was something he had never 
heard before, but now he knew why Mr. Boyd kept him busy with nothing much more 
than draperies and swatches of paint. He had a terrible temper, and that made sense.

“Yes, now do you need me to repeat how incompetent you are, or did you catch it from 
the look on your minion’s face? I want those fish as soon as you get them and I’m not 
paying for them. (pause) DON’T YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!!”

Did ever telling someone to calm down have the desired effect? In fact, wasn’t it almost 
always a good bet that it did just the opposite? As Dominic approached the kitchen, he 
thought he smelled burning plastic.

“Half price?! You’re three days late with my order? How about a third of the price? 
That’s better. I’ll be by there on noon on Friday and I want those Bubble Fish ready for 
me. You’ve wasted enough of my time. Alright. Good bye.” Orlando hung up the phone 
which was by now smoking more than just a little.

“Hello Sunshine.” Dominic teased. “Sorry about the phone.”

Orlando collapsed his wiry frame into a near-by chair. “That’s alright. I’ve got three more 
in the closet. And I’ll tell you, the man at the department store looked really confused 
when I asked if I could buy them in bulk. Apparently, buying a baker’s dozen of 
telephones is not what normal people do.”

“You’ve gone through ten phones?”

“Eleven counting the one that was in the house first. What can I say? I like my telephones 
like I do my men: aurally receptive and smokin’.” Orlando smiled at the weak joke.

“It seems you are having just as hard a time with your new job as Elijah.”

Orlando turned his compassionate face and his brown locks bounced. “Really?”

“Really. He says that he hate having a real job. He wishes it could be like before.”

Orlando paused. “Well, do you know what real jobs require, Dom?” 

“No.”

“They require real downtime. It’s overdue, I think.”

“What’s overdue?”

Orlando bent down and captured Dominic’s face in his hands. “We’re going out!”
~
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