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Tucker burst into Specs’ office, startling him from where he was peering intently at his typewriter. “Try these,” he demanded, holding something out to Specs.
Specs adjusted his wire rims and took the object cautiously. Tucker’s tinkerings had an unfortunate habit of combusting in Specs’ hands. What Tucker had just given him looked like… “Goggles? But I already have my driving goggles, what do I need a new set for?”
“These are different, I just perfected the solution I painted them with. They’re enhanced for night vision, with an extra spectrum sensitivity enhancer so you can see spectres in any light. Plus they’re corrective lenses too, so you don’t have to worry about going without your glasses while we hunt.”
“These are really…” Specs was stunned speechless and Tucker couldn’t help preening a little. Rendering his partner speechless was always an accomplishment he prided himself on on the rare occasions he managed it.
“Wanna test them out?” Tucker said, a thread of mischief lacing his tone.
“What, right now?”
“It’s dusk already, so by the time we get anywhere it’ll be perfect lighting to try them out.”
Specs stared out the small window of his office, aghast. “How did it get so late? I didn’t think I’d been transcribing that long!”
“You’re the one who insists on writing everything twice, not my fault if you lose track of time doing that. Come on; let’s find some spirits.” Tucker jerked his head towards the door and headed out without checking behind him to see if Specs was following behind. Specs let out an overloud sigh, but stacked his two different manuscript stacks separately, grabbed his new goggles, and followed behind Tucker.
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Specs pulled on his special spectre-proof duster and hardiest boots while Tucker packed up all his equipment. His boots were already on and he usually eschewed a duster in favor of a shirt and leather waistcoat, but he insisted on all his clothes being spectre-proof “to be ready for any spectre any time” so as soon as his trunk was packed he was on his way out the door. Specs grabbed his charcoal and sketchpad and followed him to the car.
“Do these things also work as driving goggles,” Specs asked, “or will dust mess up the coating?”
Tucker shrugged before hopping in the driver’s seat of their jalopy. “Dunno. Never tried it in a car.”
“Great,” Specs muttered, but he climbed in the passenger seat and pulled out his regular goggles, slipping his glasses and his new spectre-hunting goggles into the pockets of his duster as he did so.
Tucker took off and they rattled their way to the empty warehouse near the docks that Specs had researched and scoped out the week before. Along the way they were met with the usual jeers and catcalls from children, construction workers, and particularly spiteful ladies that accompanied them and their “Spectral Sightings” vehicle. Tucker was particularly proud of the paint job he’d done on their jalopy, having been a sign painter in his previous life, but the general populace did not seem to share his sentiments.
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They finally made it to their destination and Specs switched back to his usual glasses before going up to examine the door. There was a padlock there that hadn’t been there before. Taking a quick look around to ensure there were no guards around, he fished out the skeleton key Tucker had fashioned for him and popped the lock just as Tucker arrived with his trunk. Specs swung the doors open wide, coughing a little at the dust that escaped, and followed Tucker inside.
The interior of the warehouse was much as you might expect: open, barren floor covered in dust, with a wooden crate and handful of scattered dropcloths that formed new homes for a frankly alarming amount of spiders. Tucker dropped his trunk heavily alongside one of the walls and closed the doors as Specs wandered in, licking his pencil before beginning a rough sketch of the room. Behind him, Tucker pulled out his dark lantern and what he called his “spectral radio”, turning that on and leaving it hissing on the floor before lighting his lantern. He began making a round of the warehouse in the opposite direction from Specs. After a moment, he called Specs over. “Come look at this, Specs. And bring my camera, would you?” he added belatedly.
Specs doubled back to get the camera and came over to see what Tucker had found. There were strange etchings in the wood; strange rune-like markings Specs hadn’t seen before, and a set of interlocking triangles he did recognize. “That’s a summoning sign,” he said, pointing to the triangles. He began sketching all the inscriptions on a new page, though he was interrupted by the blinding flash of Tucker’s camera flash. “Really?” he complained. “When I’m mid sketch?”
“Sorry,” Tucker said, sounding not in the least apologetic. “What is it supposed to summon?”
Specs racked his brain. “Not sure,” he said finally. “I think it’s for vengeful ghosts?”
“Oh, great. Exactly what we’re looking for.” Tucker picked up his dark lantern and went back to his trunk. Setting his camera aside, he pulled out an assortment of other strange objects he’d never managed to satisfactorily explain the purposes of to Specs, then hauled them all to the center of the room. “You ready?” he called.
Specs took a deep breath before grabbing his dark candle and speaking tube from the trunk and following Tucker to the center of the room. He sat crosslegged, sketchbook and charcoal in his lap, candle in a stick in front of him, and put on his new goggles before holding the speaking tube to his lips. He gave a nod and Tucker struck a match with his teeth - prompting a glare from Specs - and lit the dark candle. It flared black and hot and cast strange shadows around them. “Spectres from every realm,” Specs said through the tube, his voice echoing from the corners and coming back in octaves far from his normal timbre in both directions. “I summon you here. We wish simply to see you; we mean you no harm and ask that you do us no harm in return. If we may help you we would like to, otherwise if we could just…look at you. Thanks.”
“Weak ending,” Tucker commented, but began peeking through all his instruments, first turning in a tight circle before beginning to widen his circuit around the room, keeping Specs at the center. Specs laid his speaking tube beside him and picked up his charcoal, opening his mind and ears and letting automatic writing take over his hand. He glanced around as he kept his mind blank, half noticing that his vision was in fact enhanced and he could see more clearly than the light of the black candle typically allowed him to. His hand moved down the page and Tucker made a non-committal noise. A scant few moments later though, Specs heard Tucker gasp and stop moving, and at the same instant he looked up and saw a spectre near the ceiling.
“Tucker!” Specs called and pointed with his non-writing hand. Tucker turned and several things happened at once. The flash bulb of his camera went off, the spectre began divebombing Specs, and Specs, Tucker, and Specs’ speaking tube all began screaming. The radio near the door began crackling and howling, adding to the chaos. Specs scrambled backwards, dropping his charcoal and sketchpad. The spectre vanished into the floorboards but the sound of rushing wind continued coming from the radio, and both it and the speaking tube continued howling. “What is that?!” Specs shouted over the noise.
“I don’t know, but the electrofluorescence meter is spiking off the charts,” Tucker shouted back. He spun in another direction and the flash bulb went off again. Specs turned that direction and saw the same spectre, now three times larger than before and coming at them again. This time Specs could hear words coming from the radio and the speaking tube.
“Death!” the spectre howled. “Death! Murder! Revenge!”
“We didn’t kill you!” Specs shouted, and ducked under the spectre as it rushed toward him and vanished once again. “What do we do now?” he called to Tucker.
“Uhh, I’m not sure. I hadn’t thought about ways to defeat a ghost, just record proof one exists.”
“Great!” Specs turned to see Tucker hurriedly packing all his equipment back in his trunk, including blowing out the dark lantern and stowing it away as well. “Are you leaving?!”
“Yeah, and so should you! I don’t want to find out what happens when a revenge-focused spectre actually makes contact with a human body!”
Specs was about to retort when he saw the spectre, now ten feet tall and at least six feet wide, coming slowly toward him with its arms outstretched. “Shit,” he said clearly. He snatched up his sketchpad, charcoal, and speaking tube, then as a resort he threw the still-lit candle at it. The instant the flame touched it the spectre disappeared, which relieved Specs, but unfortunately it was still a candle in a wooden building, and as soon as the spectre vanished, the lit candle fell flame first onto the floor and the wood lit up instantly. “Shit,” Specs said again.
He sprinted back towards the door, where Tucker had already opened it as he had left with his trunk. They threw their belongings in the jalopy, Specs made a half-hearted and pointless attempt at closing the doors to the warehouse before jumping in the vehicle himself, and Tucker rocketed off back down the road the way they’d come. Specs turned to see the roof of the warehouse burst into flame and they heard the bell on the firehouse begin ringing.
The two of them didn’t speak until they returned home, unpacking the jalopy and parking it squarely hidden in their garage. “Well, we learned some things,” Specs said once they’d removed their shoes and were sitting, eyeing their equipment.
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“I mean, we know spectres can be defeated by fire now, and I have new runes to research. Plus maybe some of your photos turned out!”
“Guess I should develop those and see.”
“Could be useful.” Specs began sketching what he could remember of the spectre. Tucker watched him for a moment before speaking again.
“We also learned you’re an idiot.” Specs made a shocked noise and turned an accusatory glare on him. “I mean, who summons a vengeful ghost without a plan and then sets a warehouse on fire?”
“As if you were any better,” Specs retorted. “You’re telling me not one thing in that kit of yours is designed to defeat ghosts?”
“Hey, it’s not like we’ve had to face angry ghosts like that before!” Tucker protested.
“We literally have! There was the spectre in Mrs. Willensby’s house last year, the twins in the grocer’s, the poltergeist at the chemist-” Specs was counting on his fingers so Tucker reached out and grabbed his hands to stop him.
“Yes, okay, fine, but we didn’t set fire to any of those places.”
“We didn’t get rid of the ghosts either, and you didn’t even have your camera for those first two!”
“Listen-” Tucker started, then trailed off. Specs smirked at him. “Okay. Fine. I’ll figure out a way to get rid of spectres before the next time we go out. One that doesn’t involve fire.”
Specs gave him an indulgent grin and extricated one hand from Tucker’s grip in order to pat his cheek. “Just try not to burn your eyebrows off again while figuring it out, alright? I quite like yours the way they are.”
Tucker grumbled, but let go of Specs’ hands with a final gentle squeeze before getting up and beginning to drag his trunk to his workshop.
“I’ll go work on researching those runes then, shall I?” Specs called after him.
“Sure, if that’s what you want,” Tucker said, then turned to throw a faint grin over his shoulder. “I’ll come drag you out of your books when it’s time for dinner then, so long as you haven’t suffocated in paper by the time I get there.”
Specs gave him a mock glare, but as they both returned to their research, they had secret, satisfied smiles on their faces. All in a day’s work.