Part 7
"Hey, Roger. Is Pete in?" Xander had reached Pete's Pest Control in under fifteen minutes. He had not broken the speed limit, unless you count the numbers on the sign plus ten, breaking the speed limit.
Roger looked up from his papers. Xander frowned. Roger's papers were normally green or blue, but today there were yellow and red. Shrugging his shoulders, he watched as Roger gazed steadily at him. When Roger looked back to his papers, his quiet voice seemed strained as he spoke, "He's been expecting you, Harris. How did you find the Newland Hills situation?"
"Uh, well. That's what I'm here to see Pete about. We have a Garvinadeles infestation, and I need to go over the ways of destroying them without releasing their reeking innards."
Roger nodded. "Well, you can go right in. I'm sure Pete's just as eager to get rid of any bug from Iktorth."
As Xander headed into the office, he was struck dumb. Pete was standing, looking at a painting of the aesthetically pleasing Harvooncats; a bug from a parallel Earth's north pole. Pete's outfit, however, was what bewildered Xander. Pete normally dressed in suits, dark gray or navy blue, but today he was dressed in all yellow. A very bright yellow polka dotted shirt, chartreuse shorts, sepia socks with lace on the ends, and shoes that looked made out of a yellow rain slicker.
"Whoa, Pete. You look like an overgrown canary. What gives?"
Pete smiled warmly at Xander. His receding hairline moved with the muscles slightly. "Well, Xander, I thought I'd spruce it up a bit today. Doesn't seem right to have such a nice day go by with my normal ensemble. And it's definitely a first-class day." Beaming, Pete went to his chair behind the desk. Light was seeping in from the blinds, causing Pete to look like an icon image.
"Yes, sir. It is most definitely a great day," Xander replied, thinking of Spike's apartment, and not a half hour ago, Spike's bed.
"Now, Xander, I've told you how I feel about my employees calling me 'sir', and I'd love for you to keep that little speech in mind." Pete said pointing a finger. At Xander's nod, he continued speaking. "So what's up with the Newland Hills apartment? What do we got?" Pete asked, clasping his hands in front of him.
"Well, Pete." Xander put emphasis on 'Pete'. "We have Garvinadeles. Apparently there is a hole in the wall that had some vamp blood spilled on it, which must have activated a spell to bring the Garvniadeles here. They march somewhere every morning and then march on back. Spike, the occupant, who is also the vampire in question, was not able," more like willing, Xander amended silently, "to find where the trail was originating. His apartment is full of enchantments, causing mirages and also nausea, which I found out the hard way." Xander grimaced. "Anyway, he found this today," Xander handed the wedge to Pete. "And a Garvinadele apparently took offense and went running towards him. He stomped it, and a completely gross odor erupted from the carcass. Spike said it had garlic in it. That brings me to my questions. What are they doing here and how do we destroy them without buying nose plugs and/or killing Spike? Or is there a possible way to send them back to their home dimension?"
Pete placed the wedge beside an electric pencil sharpener. Looking up at Xander he said, "You seem more concerned than usual about this occupant. Is he a friend?"
"More like an old acquaintance." Xander replied automatically. He had had to describe Spike several times, one of those times being when he had fallen asleep at his friend Martin's apartment. He had mumbled about Spike while dreaming, and been given the third degree the next day. The question was, did he consider Spike a friend? Would he go that far in describing his relationship with the vampire? The hostility had obviously waned since they had last seen one another. And there was that look when Xander collapsed in the bedroom. Maybe they were at least between old acquaintances and friends now, and at best future snuggle and kiss and fuck buddies.
Xander shook his head, and looked down. His thoughts of his relationship with Spike made him fight a blush unsuccessfully. When he looked back up, he caught a fleeting glance of something unreadable flash in Pete's eyes.
Pete turned his attention to the wedge. "You know this looks like a moncahpr. Those are used for conjuring spells, and they're mighty handy if you're in need of a bookend." Pete looked thoughtful. Standing to stare out the window, Pete said, "You know, there hasn't been a Garvinadele infestation since my great grand uncle, Gallnik's time. And there was only one before then, you know." Pete sighed. "How good ole Gallnik would love to witness such an event." Pete sniffed then turned to Xander, who did not know how to react to Pete's waxing nostalgic.
"So, what happened with that last infestation?" Xander was feeling very uneasy under Pete's bleary gaze.
Pete sniffed and smiled. "Well, good golly if Uncle Gallnik didn't take care of it. He used a reverse of the original spell that brought the buggies here. In this case, you said that vampire blood triggered the spell. Then, I would assume, that the previous occupant of the apartment either knew or would see to it that a vampire inhabit their slice of paradise, and manage to cause a Garv rise." Pete pursed his lips. "Who did you say was living there again?"
Xander almost smiled. "Spike. Well, he also goes by William the Bloody."
Pete's eyes widened. "Well, a childe of that crazy girl. Oh, yes. Now I remember. Isn't he the one that suffered from outrageous head pains if he tried to hurt humans? Tsk. Poor lad. I can see how frustration would build up though, and it would make him a perfect candidate to trigger that spell. Bound to get into a fight in his apartment, punch a hole through a wall, get his blood on it. Yep. That boy has rotten luck."
Xander was taken aback. Someone had set Spike up? His Spike? He felt the urge to do some major butt kicking, be it bug or not. Bugs. The bugs would probably be going to wherever the individual who set up the spell would be. "Should we get a list of previous occupants? If we figure out who set up the spell, then maybe we can figure out where the bugs are going every morning."
Pete beamed. "Very astute, Xander. See? I knew it was good day when we hired you. Do you remember that day? You were out stomping some Trewtsi's, thinking they were large ants." Pete laughed. "After seeing Lorinda use that spell on them, you demanded to know what was going on. Ever suspicious. Knew then that you'd be a great team member. Suspicious, but also efficient, or after you were trained you were efficient." Pete's smile left as he crossed to the painting of the Harvooncats. "Garvinadeles often bring about a bundle of malicious happenings, including all night jigs, which can really affect people who have an early morning. We need to nip this in the bud." Pete crossed to the other side of the room, and reached into a silver vase. "This powder, along with a Bumbitron and a ghastwheeler, both set on medium high, should do the trick. It'll get them gone and back to Iktorth. No longer will they be a nuisance here. But I wouldn't recommend doing it until the sun sets, as you won't want to be in the vicinity for a day or two, and sunlight doesn't mix with vampires very well."
Xander took a sealed zip lock bag of the powder from Pete. His shoulders slumped forward, and he scrunched his nose. Spike was going to kill him. Garlic would be everywhere from the ghastwheeler, which twirled bugs every which way as it collected them. It would not be pretty, and the smell would be horrendous for Xander, and deadly for Spike.
"Don't look so glum, Xander! Are you worried about that smell? Because you needn't be. It's the feathers that are going to be everywhere." Pete frowned. Bringing a finger to his lips, he said, "I would think they'd be about four feet high, since the Garv's won't be torn apart, merely spun to and fro, and so the feathers will keep growing. And that's when you use the Bumbitron. Using the powder instead of the requerk oil to pour into the main chamber. Got it?"
Xander was relieved. The Bumbitron would be hooked up to the ghastwheeler and all Garvinadele's garlic gas, after the initial zapping and flurry of feathers, would not be a threat. He smiled. "Yes, Pete. No problem. I'll just stop by the shed to get those, and be on my way."
"That a boy, Xander. Now, remember to not run the equipment until after the sun sets. The powder is never active when the sun is anywhere overhead."
Nodding, Xander left the office.
Roger's subdued, "Good luck," caught him as he reached the front door. Roger never wished him luck. Turning back, Xander said, "Thanks, Roger." Roger's tight and obviously strained smile greeted him. Deciding that the sooner he left the building, the better, Xander walked out through the door toward the shed to gather the equipment. Trying to shake off his unease, he pictured Spike's eyes. Yes, he thought, those incredible eyes. Picking up his pace, he started to whistle. His whistling, however, was cut short when he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. As he was spiraling toward unconsciousness, he managed to mumble, "Not again."
"Hey, Roger. Is Pete in?" Xander had reached Pete's Pest Control in under fifteen minutes. He had not broken the speed limit, unless you count the numbers on the sign plus ten, breaking the speed limit.
Roger looked up from his papers. Xander frowned. Roger's papers were normally green or blue, but today there were yellow and red. Shrugging his shoulders, he watched as Roger gazed steadily at him. When Roger looked back to his papers, his quiet voice seemed strained as he spoke, "He's been expecting you, Harris. How did you find the Newland Hills situation?"
"Uh, well. That's what I'm here to see Pete about. We have a Garvinadeles infestation, and I need to go over the ways of destroying them without releasing their reeking innards."
Roger nodded. "Well, you can go right in. I'm sure Pete's just as eager to get rid of any bug from Iktorth."
As Xander headed into the office, he was struck dumb. Pete was standing, looking at a painting of the aesthetically pleasing Harvooncats; a bug from a parallel Earth's north pole. Pete's outfit, however, was what bewildered Xander. Pete normally dressed in suits, dark gray or navy blue, but today he was dressed in all yellow. A very bright yellow polka dotted shirt, chartreuse shorts, sepia socks with lace on the ends, and shoes that looked made out of a yellow rain slicker.
"Whoa, Pete. You look like an overgrown canary. What gives?"
Pete smiled warmly at Xander. His receding hairline moved with the muscles slightly. "Well, Xander, I thought I'd spruce it up a bit today. Doesn't seem right to have such a nice day go by with my normal ensemble. And it's definitely a first-class day." Beaming, Pete went to his chair behind the desk. Light was seeping in from the blinds, causing Pete to look like an icon image.
"Yes, sir. It is most definitely a great day," Xander replied, thinking of Spike's apartment, and not a half hour ago, Spike's bed.
"Now, Xander, I've told you how I feel about my employees calling me 'sir', and I'd love for you to keep that little speech in mind." Pete said pointing a finger. At Xander's nod, he continued speaking. "So what's up with the Newland Hills apartment? What do we got?" Pete asked, clasping his hands in front of him.
"Well, Pete." Xander put emphasis on 'Pete'. "We have Garvinadeles. Apparently there is a hole in the wall that had some vamp blood spilled on it, which must have activated a spell to bring the Garvniadeles here. They march somewhere every morning and then march on back. Spike, the occupant, who is also the vampire in question, was not able," more like willing, Xander amended silently, "to find where the trail was originating. His apartment is full of enchantments, causing mirages and also nausea, which I found out the hard way." Xander grimaced. "Anyway, he found this today," Xander handed the wedge to Pete. "And a Garvinadele apparently took offense and went running towards him. He stomped it, and a completely gross odor erupted from the carcass. Spike said it had garlic in it. That brings me to my questions. What are they doing here and how do we destroy them without buying nose plugs and/or killing Spike? Or is there a possible way to send them back to their home dimension?"
Pete placed the wedge beside an electric pencil sharpener. Looking up at Xander he said, "You seem more concerned than usual about this occupant. Is he a friend?"
"More like an old acquaintance." Xander replied automatically. He had had to describe Spike several times, one of those times being when he had fallen asleep at his friend Martin's apartment. He had mumbled about Spike while dreaming, and been given the third degree the next day. The question was, did he consider Spike a friend? Would he go that far in describing his relationship with the vampire? The hostility had obviously waned since they had last seen one another. And there was that look when Xander collapsed in the bedroom. Maybe they were at least between old acquaintances and friends now, and at best future snuggle and kiss and fuck buddies.
Xander shook his head, and looked down. His thoughts of his relationship with Spike made him fight a blush unsuccessfully. When he looked back up, he caught a fleeting glance of something unreadable flash in Pete's eyes.
Pete turned his attention to the wedge. "You know this looks like a moncahpr. Those are used for conjuring spells, and they're mighty handy if you're in need of a bookend." Pete looked thoughtful. Standing to stare out the window, Pete said, "You know, there hasn't been a Garvinadele infestation since my great grand uncle, Gallnik's time. And there was only one before then, you know." Pete sighed. "How good ole Gallnik would love to witness such an event." Pete sniffed then turned to Xander, who did not know how to react to Pete's waxing nostalgic.
"So, what happened with that last infestation?" Xander was feeling very uneasy under Pete's bleary gaze.
Pete sniffed and smiled. "Well, good golly if Uncle Gallnik didn't take care of it. He used a reverse of the original spell that brought the buggies here. In this case, you said that vampire blood triggered the spell. Then, I would assume, that the previous occupant of the apartment either knew or would see to it that a vampire inhabit their slice of paradise, and manage to cause a Garv rise." Pete pursed his lips. "Who did you say was living there again?"
Xander almost smiled. "Spike. Well, he also goes by William the Bloody."
Pete's eyes widened. "Well, a childe of that crazy girl. Oh, yes. Now I remember. Isn't he the one that suffered from outrageous head pains if he tried to hurt humans? Tsk. Poor lad. I can see how frustration would build up though, and it would make him a perfect candidate to trigger that spell. Bound to get into a fight in his apartment, punch a hole through a wall, get his blood on it. Yep. That boy has rotten luck."
Xander was taken aback. Someone had set Spike up? His Spike? He felt the urge to do some major butt kicking, be it bug or not. Bugs. The bugs would probably be going to wherever the individual who set up the spell would be. "Should we get a list of previous occupants? If we figure out who set up the spell, then maybe we can figure out where the bugs are going every morning."
Pete beamed. "Very astute, Xander. See? I knew it was good day when we hired you. Do you remember that day? You were out stomping some Trewtsi's, thinking they were large ants." Pete laughed. "After seeing Lorinda use that spell on them, you demanded to know what was going on. Ever suspicious. Knew then that you'd be a great team member. Suspicious, but also efficient, or after you were trained you were efficient." Pete's smile left as he crossed to the painting of the Harvooncats. "Garvinadeles often bring about a bundle of malicious happenings, including all night jigs, which can really affect people who have an early morning. We need to nip this in the bud." Pete crossed to the other side of the room, and reached into a silver vase. "This powder, along with a Bumbitron and a ghastwheeler, both set on medium high, should do the trick. It'll get them gone and back to Iktorth. No longer will they be a nuisance here. But I wouldn't recommend doing it until the sun sets, as you won't want to be in the vicinity for a day or two, and sunlight doesn't mix with vampires very well."
Xander took a sealed zip lock bag of the powder from Pete. His shoulders slumped forward, and he scrunched his nose. Spike was going to kill him. Garlic would be everywhere from the ghastwheeler, which twirled bugs every which way as it collected them. It would not be pretty, and the smell would be horrendous for Xander, and deadly for Spike.
"Don't look so glum, Xander! Are you worried about that smell? Because you needn't be. It's the feathers that are going to be everywhere." Pete frowned. Bringing a finger to his lips, he said, "I would think they'd be about four feet high, since the Garv's won't be torn apart, merely spun to and fro, and so the feathers will keep growing. And that's when you use the Bumbitron. Using the powder instead of the requerk oil to pour into the main chamber. Got it?"
Xander was relieved. The Bumbitron would be hooked up to the ghastwheeler and all Garvinadele's garlic gas, after the initial zapping and flurry of feathers, would not be a threat. He smiled. "Yes, Pete. No problem. I'll just stop by the shed to get those, and be on my way."
"That a boy, Xander. Now, remember to not run the equipment until after the sun sets. The powder is never active when the sun is anywhere overhead."
Nodding, Xander left the office.
Roger's subdued, "Good luck," caught him as he reached the front door. Roger never wished him luck. Turning back, Xander said, "Thanks, Roger." Roger's tight and obviously strained smile greeted him. Deciding that the sooner he left the building, the better, Xander walked out through the door toward the shed to gather the equipment. Trying to shake off his unease, he pictured Spike's eyes. Yes, he thought, those incredible eyes. Picking up his pace, he started to whistle. His whistling, however, was cut short when he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. As he was spiraling toward unconsciousness, he managed to mumble, "Not again."