The Odd Job Read online

  Chapter 3

  "Ahh, Mr. Aingeal, you've made good time," Wellington said with a brief but polite nod to Belinde. "Please follow me this way," he indicated with his hand, palm turned upward. "We have a few formalities to conclude before orientation, and possibly a light meal before the ceremony tonight." I desperately wanted to ask Wellington what this 'ceremony' was all about, but I was quickly sidetracked by the majesty of the place.

  We passed a huge set of tall wooden doors that stood open to reveal what looked like a gigantic ballroom. The tile and carpeting alone were probably worth more than my apartment and there were paintings on the walls that looked like actual masterpieces. My father always used to say that if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. I tried to keep my lack of enthusiasm in check as I followed Wellington through the first floor into the heart of the building. Belinde was still holding my arm and looked about ready to burst with happiness and satisfaction,.

  After showing us the ballroom, Wellington brought us past what appeared to be a sitting room and a den that I rather liked. He led us into a kitchen which was a massive affair looking perfectly suited to a staff capable of feeding a group the size of a small army. Large orders of food would be needed to feed a party held in the large ballroom we had passed on the way in and would obviously require a kitchen this size. Still, it was bloody massive!

  Wellington led us to an area in the kitchen that looked a little more rustic and quaint. He gestured to a table and said. "This is the area commonly referred to as the cook's table or the chef's table. It's a traditional space in any manor and a place I find quite calming on a rainy day for slight repast or cup of tea. I believe you'll find it to your liking. Over here,” he turned left and gestured to the door he was opening, "is the larder. As is the case with many of the conveniences provided by the Elders, your larder will never run empty as it follows the same basic principles as the legendary horn of plenty."

  "Hold on,” I asked, "are you actually saying that if we were to start pulling food out of the pantry, we would never be able to empty it?"

  "Well,” Wellington replied, "I am saying that of course, but the more important point of interest is that every item of food has been blessed. You will not find such a quality of nutrients or sustenance anywhere mortals usually tread."

  Now this I had to check out I thought as I walked into the 'Larder' as Wellington put it, careful not to brush my bloody jacket sleeve against anything. There were links of savory smelling sausage, smoked hams, hanging pheasants, ducks, fish and every manner of vegetable I could think of as well as a few I couldn't identify. There were sacks of coffee beans, tea and various types of bread. I could see sacks of flour and sugar, together with other bags probably full of rice and beans.

  The pantry alone was like a chef's Disneyland. I could have poked around for much longer and enjoyed every minute but I was practically frantic to see more of my new digs. They could stick me out in the garden shed for all I cared, as long as I could come back here for breakfast. I had seen the basket of farm fresh eggs and wouldn't be forgetting those before tomorrow morning.

  Back in the same hallway outside the kitchen, Wellington led us to a changing area where I was instructed to take off my clothes behind a changing screen. "Please forgive my saying so, Mr. Aingeal, but it would be inappropriate to have you wandering around covered in blood until this evening." I felt a little odd about being asked to undress, but was actually happy to get out of my gory clothing. It wasn't like I was in plain view of anyone. Belinde was waiting on a bench just inside the door and I could see Wellington's silhouette gesturing through the dressing blind as he directed me.

  "Please stand on the metal plate behind you and place your hands on the two upright bars to either side,” Wellington instructed. I smiled as I thought of Austin Powers in that old movie, being unfrozen and taken through the shower on a conveyor belt. Although that didn't happen, a series of fine blue beams appeared from above and below me and played about my body for a few moments.

  I was then directed through a doorway behind the plate where I found modern shower facilities. They were modern, but looked like something you might find in the Playboy Mansion. I had a quick shower and toweled off. It was a bit of a let down not to have some strange space age sonic shower or the like. I was obviously becoming used to the wonders of this place.

  Fresh undergarments had been laid out on a dressing chair to the right of the sink and mirrors. Assuming that they were for me, I donned them and returned through the door I had entered. Near the dressing blind, there was a suit waiting for me on a hanger and wooden half mannequin. This was too much. I was starting to believe that the ceremony might not be a blood sacrifice with me as the guest of honor, which was a good thing. I was also starting to think that someone might soon be expecting far more from me than I could deliver.

  After dressing and rejoining Wellington and Bel, we continued down the hallway. 'Damn this place is big', I thought. We walked until we came to a set of intricately carved wood paneled doors which Wellington opened and led us through. The doors seemed to serve no other purpose than separating a length of hallway. Within moments, we came to a set of double glass doors which framed a rather impressive pool complete with two diving boards. Wellington led us inside with his patently efficient manner.

  "To your right, you will notice the women's changing rooms." Once again he was gesturing with his hand, palm upward like a French concierge. "At the back of the pool by the waterfall, you will notice the solarium with its patio tables." Belinde, save a little squeak of delight for the solarium, had remained silent.

  "This is where I take my tea on rainy days, although there is a quaint gazebo at the rear of the grounds that is also a wonderful spot for reflection should the weather be clement." Wellington continued remarking on the facilities features. "To the left, near those doors we’ve just passed, are the men's changing rooms and shower facilities," he concluded with his customary hand gesture.

  Wellington again led us out to the hallway where our path took a ninety-degree right turn. A few strides further in this direction brought us to a door that reminded me of the standard film noir door to a private detective's office in old movies. It had the non-assuming word 'Clerical' stenciled at eye level on the upper glass half of the door. Inside there was a waiting room that looked like it should belong in a successful law office circa 1920 London England. A very proper looking lady, who smiled at us as we entered, staffed the reception desk.

  "Merrill," our guide began, "I would like you to meet Mr. Declan Aingeal and his retainer, Miss Belinde Dagmar." Before Wellington had finished the introductions, Merrill stood and came around the side of her desk with a smile and a hand outstretched in greeting.

  We shook hands as Merrill said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Aingeal." She turned and took Bel's hand warmly. "Miss Dagmar, I must admit I was quite excited when I heard Mr. Aingeal's retainer was Vampire."

  "Succubae," Belinde corrected, this time without any ire or pouting. Merrill flashed a very mischievous glance in my direction. Belinde’s new friend finished her enthusiastic handshake and gave Bel's shoulder a quick squeeze.

  "Merrill, would you please be so kind as to take over the orientation for Miss Dagmar while I finish up with Mr. Aingeal?" Wellington asked officially.

  "I'd be delighted to," Merrill replied as she linked arms with Belinde to usher her out the door we had entered. Belinde glanced back over her shoulder just before the door closed and gave me a wink of encouragement.

  "This way, if you please Mr. Aingeal." Wellington indicated a large oak door at the back of the reception area. As we drew closer to the door I noticed that it must have been polished and oiled well over a thousand times. The door practically glowed with a life of its own.

  Something about this place was nagging at me and I couldn't put a finger on it. By all appearances, bits and pieces from many different buildings had been grafted together like an architectural version of Fra
nkenstein's monster. There were a great many things about this place that didn't seem to make sense. Operations or ‘The Estate’ seemed a lot bigger on the inside than it had looked from the outside. There were a lot of different aspects that seemed to have been uprooted from other times as well. The overall effect was at once unsettling and enchanting.

  Wellington indicated for me to proceed as he opened the door for me and once again I entered a space that seemed to occupy a different time and place. "Please have a seat, Mr. Aingeal. The formalities should only take a few moments and then I'm sure you must have a number of questions that you would like answered." Wellington rested a hand on the back of a wood and leather chair that would have looked at home in an English gentleman's club.

  Once I was sitting, he slid around his desk in fluid economical movements before pulling a burgundy folder with leather corners from a drawer. Wellington placed the folder on the center of his desk, his movements showing a practiced manner. Retrieving a small expensive looking leather case from the same drawer, he sat and placed the case in front of me at the edge of the desk and finally took his seat. "Mr. Aingeal," he began.

  "Please, call me Declan," I replied.

  "Of course, Mr. Aingeal." Wellington cleared his throat behind a fist before continuing. "In this world, Mr. Aingeal, there are rules and formalities." He looked directly into my eyes before continuing. "Mr. Pittacus had chosen you, some time before the events of today, to be cultivated as his replacement. Romeo had served steadfast and devoutly for many years but was growing weary of the burden of service. He had wanted to retire soon, which necessitated making contact with you today. Had events not taken a tragic turn, your transition would have been subtle and far more comfortable."

  Wellington was obviously troubled, and it finally dawned on me that the two had probably worked together for twenty years or more. Wellington had lost a friend today and I had been insensitive to that fact. "You two were close, weren't you?" Wellington only nodded.

  "How long did the two of you work together?" I asked.

  "Romeo brought me into service one hundred and forty one years ago when we became partners." I was about to ask what the two had done as a team when I realized that Wellington had meant 'partners' in the politically correct sense of the word. I inhaled sharply as I realized what a dunce I was. Wellington, whose gaze had drifted down to his hands crossed above the folder, suddenly looked up.

  "I'm very sorry for your loss. You two were obviously planning on retiring together?" I asked.

  "Yes,” Wellington replied, "but I now believe I will stay on, at least until the present crisis has been dealt with."

  "I don't know what to say," I said, not having the slightest idea how to be of any comfort. The shock must not have even worn off for him yet and he was stuck babysitting me.

  "There is some embarrassment and shame at how rudely you've been thrust into this position, Mr. Aingeal." With that, Wellington indicated the leather case in front of me and opened the folder that he had placed on his desk earlier.

  Removing all but one document from the folder before handing it to me, Wellington gestured to the small leather case again. I picked up the case and opened it to find an ornate fountain pen with the symbol of a dagger embossed along its length. "You'll notice that the end cap opposite the nib opens," Wellington offered. True enough, I found that the end cap of the pen rotated open to expose a short stubby needle. "Go ahead Mr. Aingeal," Wellington said in a slightly chiding but professional voice as he made a clicking motion with his thumb. "You look more than stout and hale enough to survive a little prick."

  "You have no idea how much pain the last little prick I encountered put me through," I said, but made a quick clicking motion with my thumb to pierce the skin. The pen issued a short pneumatic hiss followed by a click.

  Wellington nodded with approval and indicated the form in front of me. "Here we have a standard agreement of confidentiality, though the penalty may be a bit stronger than you would expect," he finished as I signed the document. The penalty Wellington mentioned was clearly listed as 'Immediate termination.' As a claims adjustor myself, I was amazed at the lack of fine print in the contract.

  "How so?" I asked.

  "The penalty for purposeful indiscretion is death of course," Wellington provided.

  "What?" I blurted, realizing I had already signed the bottom of the agreement in my own blood. I had thought 'Immediate termination' meant fired and kicked out the front door without a chance to clean out my desk.

  "Would you ever consider purposefully betraying those who have given you their trust, a better option in life, and near immortality for no reason other than your own personal gain?" Wellington asked sternly.

  "Of course not!" I snapped, in my defense.

  Wellington pointed at my signature, a hand gesture I hadn't yet seen him use, and said, "Then there should be no dismay at standing behind your word." I breathed a sigh of relief. This guy obviously didn't know my father. No one in my family would ever betray a trust. It was even the family friggin' motto. I couldn't actually say the family motto in proper Gaelic as it was an awful lot of vowels and a few consonants that meant roughly 'Choose a messy death over betrayal'.

  "Now that the hard part is over and done with, we have a few more forms for you to sign," Wellington said as he handed me a second form. "This form pertains to the handling and disposition of sensitive goods and artifacts."

  "Could you break that down for me?" I asked.

  "A number of artifacts at your disposal are, to be quite frank, legendary. A number of these artifacts were created solely for the facilitation of your role. The Estate’s larder is one such artifact." Wellington betrayed his thoughts with a slight smirk as he spoke. "Though it is doubtful you could ever misplace, sell or give away the larder itself, you might be tempted to part with any of the smaller less architecturally attached pieces."

  "Wellington, did you just crack a joke?" I asked as I signed the form, which I figured meant I could kiss my ass goodbye if I lost, sold or traded any of the toys from The Estate.

  "Anything is possible, sir," Wellington replied as he handed me the next form.

  Form after form followed until I actually had to refill the pen, which I did as nonchalantly as possible, thereby robbing Wellington of the chance to tease me again. Just after refilling the pen, I was handed another form, but unlike the past dozen forms, it had nothing to do with visitors or social events. It pertained to entities. "I'm going to need you to break this down for me, Wellington," I admitted.

  "Of course, sir," he replied. "This form pertains to your treatment of non-corporal beings. Many of the more intricate and larger devices you may find about The Estate and use in service are housing the living remnants, soul or complete non-corporal body of people, beings or entities that are serving out contractual obligations to them." The prim Englishman paused only for a brief breath before continuing. "Some have volunteered service and are serving for an indefinite period to further the cause of maintaining balance."

  "Would that be why my car gets pouty when I'm not polite?" I interrupted to ask.

  "I would expect so, Sir," he smiled briefly, with a touch of sadness. "She's new," Wellington said with a look of regret. I didn't press the issue.

  I signed the form, even though I felt that it was a waste of time. There was no way in hell I would treat anyone badly that was loyal to the point of serving past the grave, even if they were only making my toast. The fact that there were at least a few souls that believed enough in what was going on here to serve after death was impressive and spoke well of my new employers. But, after death? Seriously, what was this place and what had I gotten myself into?

  One last form remained in Wellington's hand. "This form indemnifies you from necessary sin committed in the line of duty. However, I would like you to listen closely to me for a moment before you sign." Wellington paused for a moment to let the seriousness of the situation sink in. "Being able to act without the responsibility
and weight of your actions looming over your head changes you. There may be times during your service to the Elders where you may have to commit necessary evil. Should you sign this form you will be indemnified, protected as it were, from the weight of those sins committed in the line of duty.” Wellington looked into my eyes before he finished speaking. “You are not obligated to sign this form. The choice is yours," he concluded with appropriate gravity.

  'Ok,' I thought, 'this is some heavy shit.' I stood up and paced the floor for a full two minutes. Wellington followed my pacing with his eyes but said nothing. Finally I turned to Wellington and said, "I think that form is bogus." I pointed at the paper in Wellington's hand and continued, "I don't believe it's a sin to put a rocket into a car full of murderers. I'd do it again if I were ever put in the same position, but there is no way I want to become the kind of guy who gets used to killing without my conscience being part of the equation. If I sign that form, I might become my own worst nightmare."

  I stood with my fists on my hips staring at the floor for a few seconds. The thought of being licensed to kill was one thing, being morally excused though was really quite frightening. "I don't believe these Elders you refer to have the power to negate sin when they choose, but even if they did, I'm not signing it.”

  With a measurably proud smile, Wellington tore the form in half and neatly folded the two halves. I was beginning to think I might be working for some secret branch of the government. If so, the government had a lot more power than I had ever believed.

  "Thank you Mr. Aingeal. Our business is concluded," he said as he stood from where he had been sitting on the corner of his desk. "Oh, when I say Elders," Wellington paused and locked eyes with me before continuing, "you do understand that I am referring to practically the entire pantheon of elder gods?"

  At which point I immediately passed out.

  I came to on the floor feeling confused, overwhelmed and ashamed. Wellington was beside me on one knee fanning my face with the remnants of the form he had torn in half just a few moments ago. 'Oh shit,' I berated myself internally, 'right after that super cool and manly speech, I passed out like a girl at a rave. Shoot me now.' I could tell by the look on Wellington's face that I was never going to live this down. Then the reason I had fainted in the first place came back to me.

  "So, the Gods are actually real?" I asked, trying desperately to feign a casual air. I wasn't about to admit that I had suspected a secret branch of the government.

  "Oh quite real I assure you. And we refer to them as the Elder Gods or the Elders." I felt like a hole had been blasted through my head.

  "What about ‘God’ God?" I asked as Wellington winced.

  "I'm afraid the Christian god isn't doing very well," he admitted.

  "What do you mean not doing very well?" This was going to be something I wouldn't be sharing with dad, I could tell.

  "Have you heard of the commandment not to 'take the name of the Lord thy God in vain'?" Wellington asked.

  "Of course," I replied.

  "Well, the common man isn't privy to the knowledge of the effect this practice has on a deity of any kind."

  I obviously looked puzzled enough that Wellington felt further explanation was necessary. "Let me ask you this, Mr. Aingeal, how would you feel if everyone you knew wanted to talk to you at once, half of them also asking for favors while the other half are complaining?" I shook my head knowing it would be hell. "Now imagine that you could never shut the voices off and were forced to listen for thousands of years." The very thought made my eyes bug out.

  "He's had a nervous breakdown,” I said flatly, feeling partially responsible, "or he's gone insane,” I said, feeling worse. Wellington nodded gravely.

  A lot of things were starting to make sense. I was still feeling like a fish out of water, but I felt better knowing a little more about what I had gotten myself into. "The Christian God, you must understand, was fiercely devoted to humanity," Wellington shared. "He, for lack of a better designation, let things get out of control the first time and was forced to take drastic measures. That was when the current trouble started," Wellington finished.

  "The first time?" I asked.

  "The flood, of course," Wellington answered, shrugging a single shoulder.

  "So it really happened?" I asked.

  "Oh it most assuredly did," he answered. "It was a protective reflex that cost him dearly. You see, the amount of power a god holds at any given time is a direct relation to the number of believers. When the Christian god passed judgment in an effort to save his sanity, not only was he greatly wounded but his power was greatly diminished.”

  This was a lot to process. Most of the questions I had held earlier were no longer valid. I had about a thousand half formed questions and was desperately trying to put a few useful pieces together. "Wellington,” I asked, finally getting up off the floor and returning to the chair I had occupied earlier, "can you explain a bit about the Elder Gods? Maybe start with my basic role and work outward from there?"

  "Certainly," Wellington agreed. "The situation for both you and the Elders is at once simple and complicated. It is simple in the fact that by agreement, the Elders cannot take a physical hand in the business of mortals nor directly influence humanity." Wellington laid a finger across his upper lip for a moment in thought, then continued to speak. "To maintain balance, in the absence of a holy hand in earthly matters, an Adjustor must come into play so as to prevent a breach of the contractual agreement between the consortium of Elder Gods and the Christian god. You have become their instrument on earth so to speak. There are a number of adjustors operating in this world at any given time.” Wellington paused and smiled as I stared at him slack jawed. “Each adjustor is responsible for his or her region but may be called on to assist another adjustor."

  "What are we responsible for?" I asked. "I mean, the specific duties are still a mystery. I'm called an Adjustor so do I go around adjusting things, situations, people...?"

  Wellington quirked a brief smile and answered. "You are like a messenger for the Gods, as well as a handyman and a delivery boy. There may be times where and when you are called upon to be a champion as well, in every sense of the word," Wellington stated in a fatherly tone.

  "You mean to fight, actual toe to toe?" I asked.

  "At the very least" Wellington commented dryly.

  "I still don't understand why the Elder Gods are involved. Weren't they unseated by God?" I asked, wishing I knew a better name for the god of my upbringing. Using just 'God' was starting to seem inaccurate and inappropriate.

  "There are still a few things that we mere mortals are not meant to know," Wellington said with obvious mirth. "The theory held by many of us here at Operations, and amongst many stationed at affiliated estates, is that they are all part of one family. Imagine if you will, the father who opens a family business in the hope that he could watch his children prosper. Now imagine the problems that often arise when a father sees his children conducting themselves and their business contrary to his plan."

  "Dad steps in and takes over," I offered.

  "Exactly,” Wellington commented with approval. "We believe in this case, that the children have come back to the family business in familial support of dear old dad," Wellington ended with a chuckle. "Of course,” he added as an afterthought, "there is always an undesirable element in any family." That last statement working quite well in tempering any levity.

  Wellington, who had moved back to his perch on the corner of his desk, rose and gestured for me to follow. "There are a few people I would like you to meet before dinner. I do believe it's time you met the Armourer," he said briskly with a wink of enthusiasm.

  "Wellington," I said as I followed him out the door to the reception area, "I can't believe you're so composed after what you've been through today." Wellington paused at the door before Merrill's desk and his shoulders slumped slightly. I suddenly regretted saying anything.

  He was quiet for a moment and then with
a long sigh he admitted, "I was a mess after it happened, devastated, positively gutted. I wanted blood. I wanted to join Romeo in death." He cleared his throat twice before continuing. "Fortunately, here on The Estate we have a suite that has been specially constructed through the combined efforts of a number of the Elders. That suite is insulated against the passage of time in this plane. Fortunately, our dear Merrill had the presence of mind to usher me there within moments of receiving the news." A slight shudder ran through his frame as he paused for breath.

  "The demands of this office upon the mortal frame can often be great. Many of us here at The Estate use the ‘Summer Suite” on a regular basis." He looked almost embarrassed for a moment, and then added, "I wasn't being theatrical when I said I was devastated. I couldn't eat or sleep for days." The gravity of what Wellington had said took a moment to sink in.

  "Days!" I blurted out in hushed excitement. "You can spend days in this room and come out the same day?"

  "Rooms, Declan. It is a fully contained suite and easily one of the most important facilities this estate has to offer," Wellington said with apparent gravity.

  "So it really has been days for you?" I asked.

  "No,” Wellington replied with a wry smile, "it was days before I could sleep and a few more before I could eat. Merrill refused to leave my side for over a week in fear of what harm I might visit upon myself. It was over a month before I felt sane again and was able to continue my duties."

  "Holy shit," I said, "I really have gone down the rabbit hole." Reaching up with a hand, I grasped my forehead in an effort to keep my head from exploding. If I had fallen down the rabbit hole and ended up in Wonderland, I could just convince myself I'd had a nervous breakdown and roll with it. What I was dealing with right now had far too much paperwork and normal mixed in to dismiss as a breakdown. Of course now, the curiosity was killing me and I had to find out more.

  Wellington pulled a pocket watch from his vest pocket and consulted it briefly as we left the office and we strode down the hallway. With a satisfied nod, he replaced the watch in his pocket and looked at me to indicate an enthusiasm for our next stop.

  "So I can use this suite if I'm ever bogged down, sort of sleep in or take a day off without actually being a slacker?" I asked.

  "Of course,” Wellington agreed, "the primary function of the ‘Summer Suite” is to facilitate convalescence. Should you be injured or exhausted as is sometimes the case for those in the field, or should you simply desire an afternoon with a good book, the suite is at your disposal."

  "Wellington, I'm really starting to like this place!" If this was insanity, I was buying the T-shirt! “Hey,” I said, coming to a complete stop as a thought finally dawned on me, “one hundred and forty years?” Wellington stopped and turned to me without speaking. “You really are a hundred and forty years old?” I asked.

  “No,” Wellington replied, “I’ve been working for the Elders for one hundred and forty one years. I myself am closer to two hundred years of age.” Wellington smiled briefly and turned back in the direction we had been walking, leaving me to stumble after him once I had scooped my lower jaw up off the floor.

  Stopping before a large and imposing set of double doors in an arched doorway, Wellington's face broke into a wide smile. It was the first time I had seen such an expression on the man, save the private joke he had shared with Belinde at my apartment. "This is the place where you get to feel all the staunch manliness you were lacking when you fainted in my office."

  'Little bastard,' I thought. I knew he would have fun with that. I expected that was the first in a lengthy line of little digs I was going to receive from Wellington on the subject. I gently but firmly grasped Wellington's shoulder to force eye contact before he could open the doors

  "Wellington,” I asked. "You're ok right? I mean, you've been babysitting me all day and I really appreciate it. I'm amazed actually. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel bad about what you've been through, and that on your first day back you have to babysit the new guy." I felt a bit foolish, but I really only knew one person in this new life and I was worried he might still snap at any moment.

  "I no longer feel a desperate need to join Romeo, Mr. Aingeal, if that is what you imply. The blood though, that I will admit, I do greatly desire," Wellington said with an evil gleam in his eye.

  I nodded the man to man nod that I hoped wouldn't be out of place for Wellington and said, "I'll make sure you get that chance." Strangely, Wellington returned my nod in fine fashion. I had just shared a moment with a gay man that was old enough to have babysat my great grandfather, and in the process made a new buddy. Yes, he was a buddy that was currently bloodthirsty and bent on revenge, but seeing as how he was the only one I had in this strange new place, I'd just have to make do.