Intern[ed] in the basement, blogpost #3
by Gori Roriksen Varangian
Hi! Gori here. Do you remember my last blog, when, on my first day clearing the Hoxton Street Monster Supply basement, I found a crate from the British Museum? It contained a glowing scarab, a half-melted tape recorder, and a sheet of paper.
The note told me the tape was:
An audio interview between the mummy of Pharoah Akhenaten Amenhotep IV and human archaeologist, Dr Veronica Hermueller. Following an unexplained fire in the museum vaults, the current location of the renowned Egyptologist and the mummy are unknown.
Of course, I couldn't resist hitting play!
Well! As if that wasn't exciting enough, the recording continued with an ancient Egyptian curse not heard for - I guess - three thousand, three hundred and fifty-seven years. As the Pharaoh spoke the words, (which I can't repeat here, because alas I don't write hieroglyph) the scarab glowed brighter and brighter. Just as I was getting worried, the device chewed through the rest of the damaged tape and the chanting stopped.
I peeked out from between my fingers, blinking away the after image.
The scarab was dark, now, but each of the empty, catering size organ marmalade jars in the pile it had been sitting on glowed instead! It was like sunlight, but not as harsh. I picked one up, and in its warm light a face loomed sharply out of the shadows.
“Your vondrously zoft light,” a vampire basking in a nearby coffin said, “it makes me feel zo... alive! Is it for zale?”
I knocked on the trapdoor and showed Igor the glowing jar.
“Daylight?” she said. “We already sell that.”
I explained it was more like the memory of daylight - perhaps a newer, better, and possibly safer version of the remedy the shop sells to vampires suffering from lack of daytime.
Igor couldn't see the difference, but when I told her I’d already sold half a dozen to gloomy vampires in the basement, she almost looked impressed, and I started handing up the glowing jars.
I didn't tell Igor I kept just enough of the jars to finally get a proper look at the basement, which stretches further than I'd imagined. Find out what I discover in the next “Intern(ed) in the Basement” blog.