Humphrey Dinklehuegen and the Talking Horses

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 10: A Bad Day

Eugene looked over his desk at Maggie, and then sighed. He looked up at her again, and once again sighed. He just had no idea where to start.

“Would you like me to deal with her?” offered Gisla from across the room.

“No,” he said. “Just…no.” He looked up at Maggie. “Do you have any idea just how bad you screwed up, Magmariane?”

“I- -I don’t think it was that bad,” she said, meekly shaking. “I mean, nobody died.”

“Nobody died? Nobody died?! You bet your shape-shifting rear that nobody died, because if they had, Gisla would be having you as a soup right now! Do you have any idea the losses we just took?”

“We encountered…” Maggie gulped. “Unanticipated resistance.”

“Unanticipated- -do you have any idea how much time off I’ve had to sign for?! We have fifteen cases of mandrake paralysis, at least twenty instances of spell damage- -half of us now have magical scabies, and you KNOW how hard that is to get rid of. At least one man was shot in the buttocks, Blorg won’t stop crying, and half of our crew went up against a Soviet wizard without any radiation shielding at all! Do you have any idea how much the insurance is going to cost?!”

“I filed that in my report- -”

“And who gave you authorization to use enchanted armor?! That was a shipment meant for export in two weeks, and now more than two thirds of it is COMPLETELY RUINED!” He leaned back. “Not that we’re even going to get it out now! Ninety percent of our workforce is down, just in time for the holiday season! Do you know how much overtime I’m going to have to give John and Lester?”

“But if we hadn’t had armor, the injuries- -”

“Not to mention,” said Eugene, leaning as a mandrake approached him and attempted to touch his face. “The search and rescue mission brought back MANDRAKES!”

“They’re not actually mandrakes,” said Maggie as Eugene pushed the man-like root away. “They’re partially hybridized. With lumpers, I think.”

“Great. So we can’t even use them. Just great.”

“Not to mention,” said Gisla, standing up and glaring at Maggie, “Zee obvious elephant in ze room.”

“What’s that?”

“We lost Liu. Not only did they take her down, but she’s gone. Somehow, someone captured her right out from under our noses!”

“That is not what I mean. The dragon animagus is of little consequence.”

“Little consequence- -do you have any idea how rare they are? Most of them can just turn into squirrels or dingoes or something! She was my chief heavy-hitter!”

“No. What I mean is, this leetle girl failed to retrieve the unicorn blood.”

Maggie hung her head in shame, then stiffened as she felt a griffon claw around her shoulders.

“And,” continued Gisla, “if she were one of my operatives in Prussia, do you know what would become of her? I’ll give you a hint.” She extended a long talon near Maggie’s carotid.

“W- -wait! Mr. Lancaster, you- -you can’t! Please!”

“And why shouldn’t we?” said Eugene. He put his elbows on his desk and then his head in his hands. “You almost had them- -do you have any idea what this cost us?”

“I can get them back,” said Maggie. “Please- -”

“Even though they somehow had the foresight to dispel your tracking charm? Yeah. You can, and you will. But this time Gisla will be leading the operation. I can actually trust her.”

Gisla lowered her claw. “Unicorn hunting was formerly a hobby of mine. Until the extinction. It will be done.”

“It had better,” said Eugene. “Because I already found a potential buyer. I was going to bring him in today to pick up the blood, but now I’m going to have to reschedule the appoint- -”

The internal alarms in the warehouse suddenly went off, indicating that there was a breach of perimeter. Eugene looked up, confused, and then stood. As he did, the air around them seemed to darken, and the darkness instantly congealed. There was no sound of a normal apiration, but instead a dark-clad figure emerged from the shadow.

He walked to the desk, and Maggie wet herself. He was not only taller than her, dressed in an immense black robe fastened with a blood-red brooch, but she saw his face- -or rather, failed to see it. Beneath his hood where his face should have been was a silver, skeletal mask. The dark wizard in the woods had been one thing, but Maggie had been able to dismiss him as something innocuous. A genius hermit, perhaps, or a retired auror. With this man, though, there was no doubt. He was clearly a Death Eater.

Even Eugene looked nervous, but hid it well. He stood up. “Mr. Rott,” he said, holding out his hand. “Pleased to finally see you in person.”

Rott said nothing. He just stood there, and Maggie was amazed by the sudden silence that filled the office. It was the kind of distorting, oppressing silence only caused by thick fog. The only sound that she could hear was the heavy breathing of the Death Eater standing beside her.

Then he spoke. His voice was ragged, like what Maggie would expect from a dementor if they could talk.

“My…blood. Where is it?”

Eugene steeled himself. Without taking his eyes off the hooded figure, he spoke to Maggie. “Magmariane? You’re free to go now. Prep yourself for the next op. Gisla will be briefing you in three hours.”

“Y- -yes, sir.” As she turned, a black-gloved arm shot out and grabbed her shoulder. She squeaked in terror and saw her boss reaching for his wand.

“You,” said the Death Eater. “What…did you see here?”

“N- -nothing!” said Maggie.

“She is one of my best intelligence officers,” said Eugene. “I was even considering her for a promotion until about an hour ago. Trust me, as a member of our organization, discretion is a key element of her personality.”

The Death Eater continued to hold on, as if considering. Then he released Maggie, and she ran away, trying to disguise the fact that she was crying.

Rott turned back to Eugene. Gisla had begun to circle him from behind before joining Eugene’s side. Though not a wizard, she was far stronger than any human and was prepared to fight if she was needed.

“My…blood,” repeated Rott.

“There’s been a technical difficulty in the supply chain,” said Eugene. “I don’t have it. Not now. But I will.”

Once again, Rott paused. He still stood nearly still, but with the combination of his mask and his lack of motion, it was impossible to read him. Eugene was sweating.

“I need that blood,” he said. “WE need that blood.”

“I know, I know- -”

“Is this…an attempt to…increase the price?”

“No. We’re actually considering a discount if- -”

“Do not toy with me, half-blood,” snapped the Death Eater. “You have…no idea of the significance of that blood, what the…ritual would accomplish.”

“Nor do I care to know. Remember the confidentiality agreement. I don’t ask, and you don’t tell. It’s better that way if the Ministry comes for either of us.”

“The Ministry is weak. They are of no consequence.”

“Easy for you to say, but I can’t just take off a mask and go home. This company is my bread and butter. And our reputation is important to us. We don’t have the blood now, but we know where the unicorns are. We’ll get it for you. You have my word.”

“Mine as well,” said Gisla. “And though you humans are true and pure liars, ze word of a Griffon is worth far more.”

Rott did not reply, but continued his heavy breathing. “Three days,” he said at last. “Four miles.”

“Excuse me?”

“Three days,” he repeated. “Four miles. Bring me my blood in three days or I….kill every living thing within four miles…” he raised his gloved hand and pointed, “of you.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Gisla. “That would be impossible!”

“It is not. We assure you.”

“But we’re in the middle of a muggle city, you can’t- -”

“You vastly misinterpret…the nature of death,” said Rott. He stepped back and began to dissolve into shadows. “Three days, four miles. Our New Dark Lord will repay you kindly if you succeed and…bring devastation if you fail.”

He vanished, and the dark fog slowly faded. Eugene put his hands on his desk and nearly collapsed.

“Death Eaters,” said Gisla. “You fool. You intend to do business with their kind?”

“Well excuse me,” said Eugene angrily, “but didn’t your father make his fortune selling magical weapons to the Nazis?”

“Death Eaters and Nazis are entirely different zings.”

“Uh, no, they aren’t. They’re basically the SAME thing.”

“Nein. Nazis, zey are predictable. Easy to understand. Death Eaters? Not so. You have no idea what zis ‘Rott’ is planning, what he could do with ze unicorn blood once he has it.”

“And it’s not my job to know. Or to care.”

“Let me rephrase. It is not possible to know what he will do to us once he gets it.”

“Pay us. I have confirmed that he is in possession of several hundred million galleons. If this works, we’ll make twenty times what we have in the last five years in one hit.”

“And if we don’t?”

“That’s why I’m putting my faith in you, Gisla. It was a mistake to send Mag. She’s not experienced enough. You are.”

“I did give him my word. Even if he is not worth it. But I give ze same promise to you. I shall retrieve ze unicorns. Of this, you can be sure.”

“I hope so,” said Eugene. “For all our sakes.”