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The young master Warlock was an unusual child.
Not because he was the son of Satan, or the son of an American diplomat; but because he was raised by his gardener and his nanny. The pair in question went together as well as oil and water, and often confused the poor lad to the point of a tantrum. But, he was loved, and fed, and kept alive nonetheless.
His nanny Ashtoreth was a harsh woman, in both looks and attitude. Her tall, slender form often reminded Warlock of a spider. She was as quick and deadly as one too. Now, Brother Francis the gardener (whom he often caught staring at Nanny) always said he should respect all living creatures. Even the spooky arachnids.
Warlock's caregiver was a rather classy woman, and would often remind him of it. She wore long dark dresses, even darker shades over her eyes, and often had a hint of red somewhere on her outfit. It was a either a brooch, red bottomed shoes or a scarf. On one occasion it was lipstick. The young boy had noted this as he had also seen the very shade of vermilion on the gardener's lapel later that same day.
Though she was the 'help' she carried herself like a woman of high standing. And she did still like to mingle with 'the lower class' as Warlock was told, spending a fair amount of time teasing and whispering with Brother Francis.
He was a stout man with somewhat of an unfortunate face. But as he would tell you, it's what's on the inside that counts. Nanny Ashtoreth said you could find out if that's true, by cutting someone open. Warlock had never liked that idea much, and neither had Brother Francis.
For a boy of his upbringing he certainly spent a lot of time with his gardener. It was because nanny said a child of 'his pallor' needed time outdoors. Whatever that means. Warlock was a smart enough boy to know it was because his two gaurdians liked to gossip over the hedgerows.
Warlock, like many young children, had a lot of questions about life and about love. He also had a lot about death, his parent's relationship and ninja turtles. The child was often sat between Nanny and Brother Francis, who would give him sage advice on their two opposing views of the world. Though they rarely had much to say on sewer dwelling heros.
The educational chats typically started with a bit of light teasing and flirtation between the adults, and ended with Nanny hissing and Francis and trying not to swear. If the boy was honest with himself, he had his suspicions that they secretly liked each other. So secretly that they'd rather chew a cyanide capsule or have their teeth pulled before they admitted it. But, deep down, deep, deep down they had some strong connection.
Most days the three of them would walk the gardens together, discussing the literal birds and bees; and in one awkward occasion, the metaphorical. Over the years Warlock was privy to the slow but budding romance between his two mentors. From the flowers Brother Francis would grow and then pick in her favorite scent, to the cookies and cakes Nanny Ashtoreth would bake. She would then insist on Warlock delivering them across the yard for Brother Francis to 'taste test'. Needless to say they were an odd couple, but a sweet one all the same.
As the young son of Satan, and son of an American diplomat grew, he became more aware of and more meddlesome in their relationship. Often acting as cupid or some other romantic messenger between them. From passing notes, to 'parent trapping' them when the situation allowed. Once he even got them to sit through a full date before they realized just what it was. Warlock had said he'd meet them both under the willow tree and upon a picnic blanket for lunch. It was layed out nearly in the shade, with one of his father's finest vintages carefully nicked from the cellar. Warlock's training in the art of theivery had done nanny proud. He had also expertly arranged a delicate bouquet in one of his mother's crystal vases, a skill learnt from the many hours watching the gardener tie up little gifts for nanny.
As for realising the cunning boy wasn't infact there, they had already eaten half the food and shared the fancy bottle of wine. It was while they were polishing off the last glass of red, they had realized this lunch was not intended for a 9 year old boy.
Nanny had given him a stern telling off and a slap on the wrist after that little stunt, and Brother Francis and stood there hands on hips nodding in agreement as she did so. While he sat in the corner for the second time that day, he thought perhaps allowing them to get close and gang up on him wasn't a good idea after all. It was a while before he tried to set them up again, and this time he planned to be more careful about it.
The opportunity presented itself when a painter came to give the pool house a fresh coat of colour, and allowed young Warlock to help. This meant Nanny Ashtoreth had to be outside to supervise, and it then meant Brother Francis wouldn't be far behind.
The painter was about ten minutes into the job before he started paying Warlocks' Nanny a fair bit of attention. She was sat on the garden wall, with a black lace parasol shielding herself from the sun. Warlock was busy on the far side of the pool house, writing crude words in white paint. Brother Francis, who had spent the past half hour trimming the same hedge, was watching with a scowl upon his face.
Being a tall, dark and mysterious woman, Nanny often caught the eye of many gentlemen that visited the estate. So much so it rather bothered Brother Francis, and he always made sure to have an excuse as to why he was hanging around. Plants that needed watering, weeds weeding or the same stretch of gravel raked twenty times...
Warlock, now bored of his painted profanities decided to stir the proverbial pot. He glibly mentioned to the Francis that the painter had a crush on the nanny, and that it might well be reciprocated...
Bradley the tradesman, as we will call him, had complimented Nanny multiple times on her peculiar clothes. Including her darkened sunglasses covering most of her face. She was a severe looking woman, but that was just what Bradley liked. Years later his therapist would reveal to him why. But for now he enjoyed her harsh demeanour.
He had liked it even more when she had abruptly, and rather rudely, shut him down when he suggested she remove said glasses to show him her pretty face. Something about the hissed tone to her voice told him he had better drop the subject. Bradley had continued painting and Nanny had continued watching. So did Brother Francis.
The gardener in his distracted and flustered state, accidentally trimmed more than he intended off the hedge in front of him. He composed himself, as to not make any more mistakes, and turned to young Warlock.
"Young master Warlock, of course the painter likes Miss Ashtoreth! She's a very-"
He paused and thought carefully about what to say next. After all, he couldn't have his young charge knowing how he really felt! The young charge in question didn't need words to know how Brother Francis really felt.
"-Captivating woman. And it's not up to me to tell her who she should or shouldn't talk to."
He then muttered something under his breath about wishing it wasn't the painter, of all people. Collecting up the flowers he had accidentally cut from the hedge in his frustration, he tied them neatly in a red ribbon that seemed to have come from thin air.
With a pat on the head and the promise of payment later, he handed them off to Warlock to deliver. The dark haired boy made a b-line for his Nanny Ashtoreth, who seemed bored by the painter's constant nattering. She didn't much care for uninteresting conversation. And, if she was going to accept praise and flattery from anyone, she'd rather it be from the gardener...
As if sent by angelic intervention, Warlock ran up to her and dropped the bundle of neatly tied flowers in her lap, earning a curt smile. She already knew who they were from, and she already knew why.
Shooing the child away, she carefully drew a single flower from the bunch and tucked it behind her ear. Thankfully the shade from her parasol masked the colour of her crimson cheeks.
With a nod and little wave to rustling bush near by, she lead Warlock away from the workman and inside.
The painter Bradley finished up quickly with no striking woman to distract him, and the hedges around the pool house never looked neater.