Contingent Upon Inspection

"I still think you should have gone with my guy," the realtor rasped as she turned away to inhale a smokey breath from her cigarette.

"The advice was to find our own inspector. Independent. He comes highly recommended. Right, dear?" The wife beamed as she hugged her husband.

"That's right, dearest," her husband agreed, snuggling closer to her in the cool autumn air. The couple eyed their intended new house with loving, but nervous eyes. The price was more than they had planned, but it was just what they had dreamed of.

The trio waited quietly, standing in the driveway of the house, waiting for their fourth. A cough erupted from the realtor as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. Down the street, another cloud of smoke approached. It too coughed, barking mechanically as it lumbered towards them.

The wife jumped as the truck hit the end of the driveway roughly and stopped short in a cloud of grey exhaust. The dingy old truck looked out of place in this upscale neighborhood, parked behind the realtor's Lexus. "Yes, that must be him," the wife concluded. They waited expectantly.

The door to the truck creaked open and squeaked against its hinges as heavily-booted feet hit the pavement. The driver, a short, grandfatherly type, waved a friendly hand and turned away before they could reply in kind. He clapped his palms on his dirty beige coveralls, presumably to cleanse them in some way, before reaching into the back of the truck. In short order a tall ladder was tossed out onto the lawn nearby. It was quickly joined by a smaller stepladder, a toolbox, and a heavy canvas sack. The sack settled into place on the lawn, but something inside continued to wriggle of its own accord.

Clipboard tucked under his arm, the inspector strode up and offered his hand. "This must be the place." He smiled as he took the husband's hand and shook. "I'm Grotty. I have those references I promised you over the phone."

"Richard," the husband stated as he shook the inspector's rough, weathered palm. "And this is my wife, Janet."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr, um, Grotty." Janet offered her hand.

Grotty nodded politely, declining her hand, before turning back to the papers. He tugged out his clipboard and whipped out matching sets of legal-sized papers for the couple and their realtor. "As you can see, I have quite a background in construction, contracting and safety inspection. As well as a range of spell detection and charm verification certifications."

The realtor, chewing on her cigarette, interrupted him, "But, no actual Talents? You aren't a mage or shaman?" Her cigarette dangled precariously on her lower lip as he looked at him, suspiciously.

"No, ma'am. A proper Talent wouldn't stoop to this sort of work." Grotty offered his hand for a quick, polite shake from the realtor. "I'm retired. I just put in a couple days a week by referral, mostly to keep out of the wife's way. You know how they get, right?" He winked knowingly at Richard. The newlywed man nodded nervously, earning a scowl and a swat on the arm from his young bride.

You'd better not screw up this deal, the realtor thought to herself as she smiled politely around her cigarette. My guy knows how to do it, she reassured herself. Give them lots of good news, a couple reports of minor, low-cost repairs. Show you know how to do the job, but nothing to spook the deal from closing. She took another long drag on her cigarette. Once they moved inside she wouldn't be able to smoke, and she wasn't leaving this inspector alone for a moment.

"Margie. Margie de Sales," the realtor finally introduced herself.

"I'll start on the outside, since we're here." He hung his clipboard on his toolbelt and proceeded to heft his ladder. After positioning it for a climb to the roof, he began to equip himself. Tools from his box and curious little artifacts from his sack began to decorate his toolbelt and vanish into the pockets on his coveralls. The old man moved with surprising speed for one of his years as he began to climb.

"His credentials do sound impressive, darling," Richard said, reading the papers. "He spent his whole career in home construction and serving on safety and standards boards. And look at this, he attended a seminar on Exorcism for the Layman at CalMage. That's a good school. You know, for that sort of thing."

"He's rude," his wife Janet declared, pouting.

At least he isn't a genuine mage, Margie thought to herself. The worst he can find is some dry rot.

"So far so good up here!" Grotty called down from the rooftop. His gray-haired head poked out over the edge of the roof, smiling down at them. "I think this is a fresh roof, and the charms like it," he shook a purple orb at them for a moment before moving back out of sight again.

"Yes, the listing said they put on a new roof just two years ago. You couldn't ask for a better one," the realtor reinforced, nodding at the couple.

Grotty's backside appeared overhead, followed by his boots, as he began to climb back down the ladder. When he hit the ground, he began jotting notes on his clipboard.

Margie leaned in, her cigarette pushed politely to the far side of her mouth, peeking at his extensive checklist. "What is that there about the downspouts?" she asked.

"Here, I'll show you," Grotty offered, dropping the clipboard to dangle from his toolbelt on a short tether. He thrust a hand into one of the many wide, deep pockets in his coveralls. It emerged with a cluster of feathers, held together by a wooden bead. He strode over to the nearest corner of the house, motioning Richard to come closely, and waved the feathers at the contoured metal downspout. The feathers flapped eagerly, as if blown by an unseen wind, and the bead atop glowed a pleasing orange hue.

"What does that mean?" Richard asked, fascinated.

"The anti-clogging charm is strong in these. I tested them, as well as the gutters, both are positive. The roof's anti-leak spell is fresh and the siding reads similarly. Somebody spent good money on this place recently. I'd say you have quite a few years before you have to be concerned about anything out here." He stuffed the orb back into his pocket and tugged his dangling clipboard back to his hands to complete his notes.

The realtor nodded happily. This guy might just work out.

"Now we see the inside, if you'll take care of the door for us?" Grotty asked the realtor. The happy couple, now well-chilled in the cool air, nodded enthusiastically. Grotty marched off to gather his toolbox and bag of tricks.

The realtor led the way to the front door. Reaching into her cavernous purse, she extracted her notebook and consulted the selling agent's notes. She tapped the appropriate code into the keybox latched around the doorknob and extracted the key to the front door. As she turned the key in the lock she recited the appropriate words from her notes to unlock the unseen security forces at the same time.

"That was quick," Janet declared, frowning at the ease by which the realtor gained access. "Are you sure the security charms are sufficient?"

"We always have sellers downgrade the incantations a bit for showings," Margie explained. "It helps to move things along and prevents any unpleasantness when one of us is a bit rushed. We wouldn't want a backlash spell coming after our potential buyers, would we?"

"Well, not after that incident in Des Moines last year," Grotty chuckled. "There are reasons why one needs a special license to bind a Spirit Troll to a security system." He led the group through the door, as Margie hung back to finish the last few precious drags of her cigarette.

As they entered the house, Janet burst with an excited word. "Pixies!"

"What? Where?" coughed the realtor from behind, unnerved by anything that might throw the deal.

"That's right!" Richard remembered. "We wanted to ask you to check the anti-pixie charms on the property." He wrapped his arms around his wife in a protective hug. "When she was growing up, her house in Cleveland was plagued by the little demons."

"Well, they're not demons, they're sprites. We can check, but we won't find any." Grotty withdrew a pen-shaped device from his coveralls and began waving it over nearby electrical outlets.

"Why not?" the couple exclaimed.

"City code," the realtor interrupted, taking charge of the conversation. "Pixies are a problem here, so the city has an abatement program. Twice-yearly sweeps keep the population in check, and every winter, on the solstice, they lay down a fresh grid of mojo lines. The pixies are at their weakest then, of course. The pixies can't cross them, so outbreaks are contained. If enough reports crop up in a particular grid segment, they send out a team to sweep the area. So, he's right. Most people don't bother with charming their property against them, you can just rely on the city. It comes out of your property taxes."

"Oh." Janet seemed disappointed.

"But, if you are worried, I have the name of a reliable warlock you can summon." The realtor hastily added. "I'll get you his scroll at the closing."

Grotty snorted at the suggestion and scratched some notes on his clipboard, tucking the pen-shaped device back into its pocket.

"What was that testing for? Spirits in the walls?" Janet asked.

"Spirits?" Grotty snorted. "No. Ungrounded outlets." Grotty explained to Richard, as men understood such things. "These are wired right. Which means they all probably are. But I'll check a few others as we go through, just in case." Grotty wandered away with his eyes on the walls and ceiling, checking for water damage, as he studied the layout of the house.

Janet scowled at Grotty's back, upset at being ignored again. She perked up when Richard politely turned her to the living room. "We should put the couch here, until we can get a nicer one!" She danced about in the living room, pointing to where their furniture would go.

Grotty entered the kitchen, turning to where he had concluded the steps to the basement must be, when she caught him. Margie de Sales' face appeared before him, her smokey breath hissed in his face. "You'd better not do anything to screw up this deal. These two have been a nightmare. Driving them around to all manner of houses, looking for that one perfect first home. The precious darlings love this one, and I won't have you botching it for me."

"Of course not, ma'am. But I do have to investigate and accurately report what I find." Grotty nodded. He had dealt with pushy realtors before. Just smile and nod.

"Of course, I wouldn't dream of anything else," Margie agreed, with faint echoes of sweetness in her voice. She couldn't demand he change his report, but she could stay close, to minimize any damage he might do.

Grotty opened the basement door and yanked on the overhead cord that presented itself. A solitary bulb dangling just inside struggled to illuminate the thin wooden steps that led into the unfinished basement. The darkness below fought back, but relented as another light at the base of the stairs flickered to life. "Gods, what on earth is this?" he exclaimed into the dimly-lit doorway.

"What? Tell me it isn't serious!" gasped the realtor.

"This light fixture. I think it is held up here by duct tape. This isn't even near code." Grotty leaned in, reaching towards the offending installation and poked at it with his pen. "That will have to go." The solitary little light bulb jiggled but stayed lit. He pulled back his pen, unharmed, and scribbled another note on his clipboard.

"I thought you'd found something serious, don't do that!" The realtor's fingers twitched at her cheek, trying to insert an imaginary, calming cigarette into her mouth.

Grotty did not reply. He hefted his bag of tricks and his toolbox once more and entered the basement. The realtor followed, keeping a close eye on him.

By this time the happy couple had tired of placing imaginary furniture and children in their assigned places and came chasing down the stairs after the professionals.

Grotty busied himself with the furnace, unscrewing the cover to check on the age of the unit.

"Wow. Is that what I think it is?" Richard pointed at the concrete floor.

"I'm sure it is nothing. Did you notice the washer and dryer are new?" The realtor tried to redirect the couple to happier sights.

"I don't know. What is it? And why didn't we see it last time?" Janet, hanging on Richard's arm, poked a shoe at the edge of the dusty brownish ring on the floor.

"See, even the lint trap here on the dryer looks brand new!" Margie begged them to pay attention to her distraction.

"Mr Grotty, is this, you know, a real one?" Richard asked, pointing at the curious circle.

Grotty looked up from his clipboard, then snorted. "A summoning circle won't conjure up a sneeze if it is broken. That opening for the sump over there pretty much takes care of that." A dark hole off to the side did indeed create a gap in the circle. "And I doubt it is even drawn with real blood, much less inscribed under the proper moon. Probably just some kids playing. " Grotty returned to his paperwork, noting the age and state of the central air system.

"How do we get rid of it? Do we need some sort of magic?" Janet asked.

"Oh, there is a spell for that. One that you can cast." Grotty smiled as he worked.

"I can't do a spell!" The wife objected.

"Sure you can. The magic is between your wrist and your shoulder."

Janet puzzled over this, staring at her right arm. "What? You mean my elbow?" She furiously stamped a foot as she realized what he was saying. "Scrub it off? You mean clean it! Just because I am the woman I'm supposed to just get down here in this dusty basement and scrub the floor. Yes, of course, that would make sense to a sexist old coot like you!" Janet shouted.

"Honey, please, he was just joking, I'm sure," Richard stepped before his wife.

Margie jumped into the conversation, "Is this a new water heater? It sure looks enormous! You'll be able to take long hot showers in the morning with this baby!" She slapped the side of the heavy cylinder enthusiastically, her voice pleading for attention. The solid knocking sound was joined by the thump of something smaller behind it.

"What was that?" Grotty asked, hurrying over to investigate the anomaly. His flashlight appeared and darted around behind the water heater. "Ah. Shouldn't keep things propped up against this, you know." He lifted a boot and kicked the offending debris clear. The circle of plywood rolled out and traveled into the middle of the room before falling on the floor with a dusty clap. Grotty peered into the corner, his flashlight probing for the gas connection.

"Look at this Richard," Janet bent over to study the plywood. "It must be the cover for that sump thing. Let's see if it," she carefully picked it up by the edges, her delicate white fingers quickly dirtying from the contact, and dropped it into the proper spot. "Yes, that fits."

"I'm not sure you should do that, Janet," her husband began.

"It's harmless," Janet stated. "Look, this stripe doesn't even line up right. I mean, unless I twist it like this." Her fingers were further soiled as she picked up the cover and twisted it around. A dull brownish stain on it connected neatly with the ends of the circle and suddenly things began to change.

The dust on the unswept floor began to blow, as the brownish stain ring took on a deep red color around the couple. From outside the circle, Margie and Grotty looked on with alarm.

Grotty bent down and began rummaging through his bag. "I'd stand back from that, if I were you," he warned Margie.

The happy couple, now entranced by the colorful sparkles rising from the ring, oohed and aahed appreciatively as the summoning circle was activated, surrounding them.

Grotty frowned as he pulled a short wooden stick out of his bag, topped by a chicken's foot. The ornate carvings along the length of the stick indicated powerful magicks, while the hum it emitted announced them. He began to wave the proscribed pattern in the air.

"I thought you weren't a mage!" the realtor bellowed into Grotty's ear, shouting over the hum of the stick and the sizzling, crackling noises the summoning circle was creating as it encased the couple.

"I'm not! I didn't make it, I'm just using it!" He finished the activation incantation and tossed the stick in a gentle arc. He intended it to land on the edge of the circle, to interrupt it. Failing, the stick caught fire as it hit the field and was a mere cloud of ashes before it hit the floor.

"Too late!" Grotty shouted, and abandoned up his gear. "Get out!" The room was filled with a burst of blinding light. The screams of the now-unhappy couple were drowned out by strange, unearthly noises underneath the floor.

Edging his way around the room, avoiding the circle, Grotty shoved the realtor ahead of him.

"But, my commission!" The realtor objected as she was pushed up the stairs.

"Leave them!" Grotty shouted.

As the professionals sprinted through the kitchen and out the front door, the horrible screams of Richard and Janet were joined by a howling, screeching noise. Whatever demon or tormented soul that was erupting from beneath them was, understandably, hungry after its long journey from another plane. And rather annoyed at having to break through a solid concrete foundation before feeding.

Outside, seated on the lawn, the realtor extracted her cigarettes from her purse and lit up with shaky hands. Without speaking, she handed the pack to Grotty, who happily accepted one, and a light.

"Can it get out?" Margie asked. Flashes of angry light burst from the basement windows, obscured by the tasteful row of azaleas.

"No. Without something to break the circle, it will just storm around inside. The foundation will need some serious work. And the sump is a total loss."

I knew they should have gone with my guy, the realtor thought to herself.

The pair sat on the lawn, watching the flashes of unholy energy illuminate the bushes.

"Shouldn't they be here already?" Margie asked, her eyes scanning the sky for EMT carpets.

"They do seem to be taking their time today, don't they?" Grotty agreed. The city's Emergency Magic Technicians were usually rather prompt.

"Hopefully the hole in the foundation won't ruin the termite aura." Grotty inhaled deeply from his cigarette.

"There's an anti-termite charm?" The realtor was surprised.

"Oh, yes. There." Grotty pointed at the corner of the house. "See those runes? They'll be on all sides of the house. They aren't fresh, but they are still visible, so they should still be effective. Unless, of course, the damage downstairs disrupts their alignment."

The realtor ground her quickly-exhausted cigarette on the grass and reached for a fresh one. "I'll have to get the sellers to update their listing. It reassures buyers. Not having to worry about termites."