"I'm certainly glad it stood the test of time." 

He nods, and leads the way deeper. 

Joseph shines his electric torch ahead. Modern technology is so convenient for these kinds of things. 

Eventually they reach the store room where the powders of the dead are kept. 

The place is very dedicated to its grim aesthetic, and the years and the damp haven't been kind to the walls. Thick moss grows on them, and the place smells at once horrid and unsettling. They're the only ones making noise, for Hiram long ago put down his failed experiments.

The jars are intact, their labels faded but readable.

Joseph sets down the box of modern sealable jars he brought and starts unscrewing jar lids. 

The essential salts are all present. 

Hiram starts helping, but he takes careful pains to label every new jar before moving onto the next, and insists the other two do the same.

Extremely reasonable. 

Once all the jars are labelled, filled and sealed, Joseph closes the box again and hefts it, much more carefully this time, passing the flashlight to his ancestor. 

This is a fascinating bit of technology. He'll need to find time to read books on electricity.

In the meantime, he can direct them out.

Their route was chosen well; nobody catches them on the way back to the house. 

Emma had previously cleared a space and moved in new shelves into the basement; that'll be a suitable place, for now.

"Who are these people?" Joseph wonders idly. 

"Mostly old acquaintances of mine, before I discovered the key to immortality, or who couldn't make themselves immortal, or who died to violence. A number expressed that they would be willing test subjects. So, too, are there a few old sages and academics, whose knowledge I believed essential to my work, though I did not summon back any who wished to be left resting."

Nod. 

"We're going to need new subjects if we want to experiment with improvements to the distillation process, aren't we." 

"Yes. Humans; the process is different enough for animals to be useless at this stage of refinement."

"...Hm. I wonder if any of the intervening generations..." He flips through the notes for any annotations that imply consent for such a procedure. 

Their family is unsurprisingly full to the brim with people who would like to be immortal, who are curious about the future, or who are exceptionally dedicated to the scientific method.

"Let's not bring back my mother," Emma says, dryly, "Even if she did consent."

"I don't know, I'm half tempted to use Eliza's parents as test subjects and they're still alive." 

She snorts. "We have plenty of eager ancestors, I think, though if improvements are marginal we might run out. Since the vampirism problem will likely remain, I'm assuming we would dismiss them soon after summoning?"

"For the moment, at least. Is the vampirism permanent?"

"No. It seems to fill - perhaps an imperfection in the summoning process. It usually lasts between a month and six, depending on the quality of the distillation and incantation."

Nod. "Acceptable. One long-term vampire at a time, perhaps." 

"That'd be sensible, yes. Likely we will be able to loosely track the strength of the vampirism by the subject's reported cravings, without having to run longer term tests."

"And the dulling of sensation should be as easy to track in the short-term as the long. That one concerns me more, to be honest." 

He nods. "The vampirism is merely a transient bother."

"She spent her childhood sick, and died afraid. She should not come back to a world wrapped in muffling wool."