Chapter Text
"Are you the…exterminators Lady Peatrice retained?" The man looked down his hooked nose at Link and Zelda, as if they were in fact the vermin he referred to.
"We are. Poe Watchers, Inc. at your service," Link proudly announced, holding out one of their cheap business cards he'd bribed the local newspaper editor to print in exchange to not informing his wife he was being haunted by his mistress.
The butler took the card from him and pulled a pair of reading glasses attached to a chain from his pocket. "Link Forester and Zelda Gaepora, certified paranormal experts," he sniffed before pocketing his glasses along with the card. "Very well. Right this way."
His butler's uniform hung loosely on his gangling frame, but he carried himself as if he were the master of the house when he turned away to lead them into the foyer.
Hitching his heavy satchel higher on his shoulder, Link allowed Zelda to enter before wiping his muddy boots on the stoop and following in her wake. A circular rug covered the hardwood floor, and as soon as he stepped on it he could tell it cost more than a month's salary. His feet sunk half an inch in the deep pile.
Portraits of the current residents and past ancestors in gaudy gold frames crowded the walls. Lady Peatrice's visage dominated the largest frame—her highly rouged cheeks and drawn in eyebrows competing with the jewels encircling her thin neck for attention. Her brow-beaten husband, Lord Cawlin—a diminutive man, with thinning brown hair and eyes the color of dirty dish water—peered out of a much smaller frame. In another, she sat in a chair with her husband behind her and their three pale, pinched-faced children in starched collars and knickers arranged around her feet.
All the subjects shared the same haughty expression, nostrils flared as if they were perpetually detecting a foul stench, much like the butler who led them down the hallway. Lady Peatrice had summoned them to rid her home of a supposedly haunted portrait—her most recent commission she insisted was cursed.
Well, she was right. But little did she know that it was Link and Zelda who had orchestrated the entire affair. Their ghostly colleague—Fado—had indeed taken up residence in her latest acquisition. He had spent the past week causing things to go bump in the night and pestering the woman by whispering 'Poe Watchers' in her ear as she slept until she couldn't stand it a moment longer.
As they passed a glass-fronted cabinet filled with knick-knacks to further emphasize their opulent wealth, Link glimpsed Fado following along behind them. His hollowed eyes still held the fever-bright light of the illness that had ushered him to an early grave. When he caught Link's eye, he straightened to his tallest height, mimicking the butler's snooty look.
"Lovely family," Link commented conversationally, shooting Fado a look of warning. They were barely scraping by and needed this job. If all went to plan, the retainer Lady Peatrice paid them would cover the rent and keep the gas on.
'You owe me a sarsaparilla!' Fado moaned for only Link to hear and, like the child he would perpetually be, stuck his tongue out in a very unprofessional manner. He howled before phasing through the cabinet, setting the crystal goblets to ringing and the butler flinching.
Throwing the doors open to the parlor, he stepped inside to announce them. "Mister Forester and Miss Gaepora of Poe Watchers, Inc. are here, Your Ladyship."
Her ladyship sat draped on a chaise lounge with a bowl of bonbons beside her. "Well, it's about time. I can't stand another moment of this horror. It has been a dreadful nightmare, and I've missed countless hours of my beauty sleep."
She popped a bonbon in her mouth and ate it like a cow chewing its cud. The two hairs sprouting from the mole on her chin quivered with each bite, and it was only when Zelda elbowed Link in the ribs that he realized he'd been staring.
"Yes, but rest assured, we are certain we can clear your home of any evil manifestation, post haste, Lady Peatrice," Zelda replied, her voice laced with sympathy over the woman's plight. "Why don't you tell me about some of the phenomenon you've been experiencing, while Mr. Forester takes a few readings of the room and the portrait in question?"
That was Link's cue to scope out the room.
"This will only take a moment," he assured, dropping his satchel with a loud clatter to the floor by the easel proudly displaying the portrait—Lady Peatrice sprawled on the chaise much as she was currently, (the mole on her chin, a thick glob of oil paint, in all its hairy glory), and two terriers beside her.
One of the terriers bared his pointed white teeth and growled at him. His gaze darted to Zelda as she leaned in, attentively listening to Lady Peatrice recount the instances that the poe had manifested.
Zelda closed her eyes and tilted her chin just so, communing with the spirits. Even knowing she was only listening for Fado, the hairs rose on the back of Link's neck—just as they had done fifteen years ago when he'd first glimpsed her whispering to the shadows that haunted the hallways of their childhood home, Wellspring Orphanage.
The painted terriers yipped loudly, Fado's not so subtle reminder of what Link was supposed to be doing. He ignored the beast and rummaged in his satchel until he found his pride and joy—the aetheroscope he'd invented.
He slung its strap around his neck and adjusted the dials on the wood and brass box. Two silver wires sat in a 'V' on top and the front consisted of a wide glass lens polished until it reflected its surroundings as well as any mirror. He cranked the handle on the side, watching the red needle of the ectoplasm meter pick up Fado's presence within the painting.
Electric blue lines rippled between the steel antennae on top when it reached the center of the gauge. Lady Peatrice waxed on to Zelda about her poltergeist problem as Link made a show of walking around the easel.
"Last night I woke up to my hair tied in knots! Knots!! It took my maid hours to brush them out," she sobbed. "And you should hear the vile things the painting whispers to me night and day. Just before you arrived it said…"
Link twisted a knob on the aetheroscope and it squawked loudly, drowning out whatever the woman shared with Zelda.
"I'd say I wear this dress far better than the lady of the house." Fado's leering face popped out of Lady Peatrice's and looked down at the abundance of lace and ruffles draped over the chaise.
'Fado!' Link hissed and the painted Lady Peatrice rolled her eyes in answer. Then she began 'weeping'. Fat drops of slimy ectoplasm dripped down the canvas like two snails leaving a trail of slime behind them. The terriers began yapping their heads off.
"There's definitely something manifesting here," Link called loudly over his shoulder. "Miss Gaepora, may I borrow you for a moment to confer?"
Zelda excused herself from speaking with Lady Peatrice and moved to his side. Standing by his elbow, she studied the gauge.
"Do you sense any unwelcome guests other than the one residing in the portrait?" Link asked in a sonorous voice.
"Give me a moment to commune with the spirit realm."
Taking a deep breath, Zelda closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips against her temples. It made for a good show, but Link knew from past experience that using her power for any length of time gave her a splitting headache that would leave her ashen-faced for hours afterward. Hopefully, there wasn't anything else amiss here other than the mischievous poe they had planted.
She spun in a slow circle, the hem of her plum dress whispering over the expensive carpet, muttering nonsense words—a mix of ancient Hylian and utter gibberish. Once she'd made a complete rotation she stopped, swaying slightly on her feet. Link caught her elbow to steady her, and she opened violet eyes still hazy from the limited time she'd used her power.
Giving him a reassuring smile, she dropped her hands to her sides and turned back to Lady Peatrice. The noblewoman, having bought the act completely, had risen from her reclining position and now sat perched on the edge of the settee, gripping the cushion with white knuckles.
"Well?" her abrasive tone grated on Link's nerves. He felt sorry for her husband, who had decided it would be best if he spent the evening at the club. Link imagined the poor sap spent most of his nights there.
"I am only detecting the one spirit," Zelda confirmed. "Once we trap him, he will no longer be able torment you."
"The sooner we get started the better." Link waved Zelda away to stand by Lady Peatrice. "I suggest everyone stay back. Trapping a nasty poe like this one can be highly dangerous."
"Be careful, Mister Forester," Zelda said, wringing her hands for effect.
Link took what looked like a cuckoo clock with a tesla coil on top out of his satchel and set it on the floor directly beneath the portrait. It was one of his 'patent-pending' ghost traps, but for tonight was just a prop to sell the effect and convince Lady Peatrice they were running a serious enterprise. Sickly blue fire rolled up the tube, crackling dramatically when it reached the burnished metal ball at the top encircled by a spring.
With the poe successfully ensnared, she would pay them handsomely, and in turn, Link would have the funds he needed to pay the steep patent fee. If they were lucky, she'd recommend their services to all her rich, snobby friends, and they'd finally be able to make ends meet.
It was only when the trap sparked wildly, as it was meant to do, that Link realized the grave error he'd just made.
"Oh bollocks…"
Everything slowed to a crawl as one of the sparks struck the bottom of the canvas. It immediately went up in flames. Link watched in awe mixed with dread as Lady Peatrice's painted face began to melt. The oily glob of a mole popped loudly and burning drops of oil landed on the parlor's Gerudo carpet.
"Don't just stand there! Do something!" Lady Peatrice screeched like a banshee.
Link shook himself from his daze and sprang to action. Taking a crystal ewer of water off the beverage cart, he wildly tossed the contents on the painting and began stomping out the smoldering carpet before it could spread.
Fado burst from the ruined portrait with a howl, a whirlwind of translucent blue ectoplasm trailing behind him. His form spiraled down the tesla coil's rod like water swirling in a drain and disappeared inside the trap with a clap of thunder.
The poe trap's electric fire flared brighter before shorting out in a shower of silver sparks. A moment later, the mechanical bird—painted in chipped red and gold—burst from the clock's carved doors with a mocking 'cuckoo!' that echoed in the sudden silence.
"Well," Zelda announced cheerfully. "At least the poe has been eradicated."
The peaceful silence lasted but a moment longer before Lady Peatrice's wail pierced the air. Her face, etched in lines of outrage, was by far the scariest thing Link had yet encountered since they began their ghost hunting business.
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, as she tried to form coherent speech. "My…you…ah…my…masterpiece…why…I'm…"
Her train of thought blundered on and Link tried to salvage the situation as best he could. "With spirits such as this, sometimes incineration is the best course of action to achieve the desired result."
Lady Peatrice's face turned an impressive shade of puce. Zelda stood stock still beside her, eyes locked with Link's with an expression that suggested this might be his last day on earth. He could picture the obituary the bitter editor would print, 'Mediocre inventor hoisted by his own petard.'
"That was a priceless work of art!" Lady Peatrice, having found her voice, lunged toward Link.
Zelda stepped in the enraged noblewoman's path before she clawed his eyes out. "Let's be thankful no harm came to you, Lady Peatrice."
"We're terribly sorry for this unfortunate turn of events, but you can rest assured you are no longer in danger of being driven insane," Link declared, and quickly gathered the offending device off the floor and stashed it in the satchel. Slinging it over his shoulder, he pulled out a small ledger he kept in his pocket. "Now, once we settle the bill we will be out of your hairs…hair!"
"I'm not paying you one red rupee!" Lady Peatrice shouted. "Geeves, see that they are escorted off the premises immediately!"
The butler, haughty look firmly in place, escorted them back the way they had come. They'd barely made it out the front door before he'd slammed it behind them. Guilt flaring, Link hefted the bag higher on his shoulder and headed up the sidewalk.
"I'll be more careful next time!"
"I know." Zelda fell in step beside him and they walked along the muddy curb toward the trolley stop. When Link glanced her way, the corners of her lips curved and he was relieved when she giggled. "Truth be told, I think you were doing the world a favor. That portrait was utterly hideous."
"One of the worst," Link chuckled, grinning over at her.
"An affront to fine art everywhere," Fado's tinny voice floated from the bag on Link's shoulder.
"Oh, Fado!" Zelda exclaimed, ushering Link toward the bench inside the trolley shelter.
Setting the heavy satchel down, he pulled the charred trap out of his bag. The spring had melted to the ball, and no amount of pressing could push the cuckoo back inside. Unlatching the back, he pried off the metal plate enchanted to keep poes from escaping. Fado burst out of the small enclosure, gasping for air.
He hovered an inch from Link's nose. "It smells like boiled cabbage and feet in there."
Plopping down on the bench, Link rolled his eyes. "Technically speaking, ghosts can't breathe," he muttered, running a ragged thumbnail around the ruined coil. Maybe a thicker wire would contain the electrical charge better.
"Sorry, Fado," Zelda apologized for the both of them. Her face fell when she sat beside Link and saw the extent of the damage. "Think you can fix it? "
"Yeah. I have enough spare parts left."
The rain started back up, pattering against the tin roof of the shelter. He wedged the trap back in his bag and scooted closer to a shivering Zelda, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. The trolley was late, as usual.
The wealthy elite could afford one of the steam-powered carriages that rolled off the factory assembly lines owned by Hyrule's oligarch, Ganondorf Dragmire. Commoners like Link and Zelda relied on public transportation or the obsolete horse-drawn wagon.
"We should have brought the ambulance," Zelda commented—they'd been friends so long he wasn't surprised they were on the same wavelength. "We'd be half-way home by now."
"I need to fix the axle and hitch, remember?" Link frowned. The deposit they'd thankfully received from Lady Peatrice before the debacle would have to go toward those parts instead of the patent or the rent.
"It's always something, isn't it?" Settling into his warmth, Zelda rested her head on his shoulder and gazed across the street at the row of brownstone homes.
Shadows moved about behind the frosted glass windows—the inhabitants sitting down to a sumptuous meal, to be followed by drinks in the study or library before retiring to their cozy feather beds.
One day, that'd be him and Zelda.
Link distracted himself by flicking a paper someone had left behind open and scanning the classified section. A large panel advertising an auction on the upper west side caught his eye.
"Hey, look at this." He folded the paper in half and pointed at the advertisement. "This might be the break we're looking for. I bet there will be all sorts of high ranking officials there."
Zelda's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "You want to waltz into Lord Dragmire's fortress?"
"Sure," Link said, warming to the subject. "We dress the part, act like we belong, and hopefully by the end of the night we'll have secured a few new clients." If there was a downside to the plan, he couldn't see it.
A bell rang in the distance, signaling the trolley's imminent arrival. Zelda hummed a response as she gracefully rose to her feet, and pulled a few coins from her pocket. Counting out the correct amount for the fare, she studied the change leftover.
"Just enough to stop by the pub on the way home to have a round of sarsaparillas."
Fado's disembodied whoop nearly shattered Link's eardrum. "Last one there is a rotten egg!"
The edges of the newspaper fluttered, announcing his abrupt exit.
"So," Link stuffed the paper in his bag and hauled himself off the bench. "Is that a yes?"
Zelda smiled slyly. "If you can promise not to set anything else on fire this month."
"As a gentleman, scholar, and friend, I give you my word."
The trolley lurched to a stop with a hiss and a cloud of coal smoke. Its doors creaked open to reveal an interior as battered as the outside.
Link bowed theatrically and offered Zelda his hand. "My lady, your carriage has arrived."
"Why, thank you kind sir," Zelda giggled, slipping her hand in his.
Link felt the familiar zing when Zelda's fingers brushed against his palm. It wasn't a new sensation, but it always caught him by surprise.
One day they'd merely been friends and the next day he'd woken up to realize he didn't just love Zelda, he was in love with her.
Slipping a hand inside his trouser pocket, Link closed his fingers around the simple gold band he'd bought at a pawn shop a few months back. It'd been burning a hole in his pocket ever since. He wanted to ask for her hand, but they had a good thing going between their lifelong friendship and their business. He was too afraid to risk any of that.
At least not yet. Not until he could provide for her the kind of life flashing past the grimy window of the trolley. The kind of life she deserved.