A Matter of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 1) Page 2

  I try to scream, but an unexpected grunt cuts off the outburst.

  “Unh!”

  A warm tingling passes through me, as if a giant bubble had burst and dispersed an energizing carbonated fizz from my navel to my extremities. Something has been triggered in my body's innermost core. The tangy taste of copper fills my mouth, just like the time of the laboratory accident. An electrical charge is forming and building within me.

  The glowing green glob reaches out for me.

  “No!” I shout once more; however, this time I pronounce the word as a proclamation, rather than a plea.

  I feel an intense bolt of organic lightning pulse throughout my being.

  Bouncing off my toes, a powerful and intense burst of energy blasts from my outstretched fingertips towards the murderous amoeba.

  Originating from a point just off my palm, a brilliant red light fills the bedchamber, before flashing straight into the horror.

  Hah-wah-fuh-WHOOOSH!!!

  BOOOM!!!

  The creature is atomized in the thunderous explosion and I know no more.

  Chapter 3 - London!

  Ichabod

  I can't hardly believe I'm really in London!

  What a wonderful city, and I really do mean, full of wonder. The city’s famous skyline has changed in recent years. Along with St. Paul’s, Buckingham Palace, and London Bridge, now there are also elevated railways, with trussed supports connecting important buildings. Mooring towers grow from various structures, that they may be serviced by aircraft. Fantastic ships of the latest construction and design sit upon the Thames.

  Ever since the pass of the Revelatory Comet, a strange wave has passed over this city. It is as if the five thousand pounds of clockwork in Big Ben’s tower went and spread like algae on a pond.

  Everywhere I look in this urban sprawl, modern marvels insinuate themselves into the fabric of busy life. The streets are still full of the most elaborate and beautifully appointed carriages the world has ever seen. Two wheeled Hansoms and four-wheeler carriages of quality and luxury, crafted of the most exquisite woods and leathers, abound in this busy English metropolis; however, in these Post-Comet days, they occasionally have to share these London streets with steam-powered lorries and trams. Double-decker passenger wagons, a wonder in themselves, are now pulled by steamer land locomotives.

  Gosh, the menfolk are all duded up fancy, what with their top hats, long shiny black coats, and sparkly vests. Spring-driven self-tipping hats appear to be very popular this year.

  My upbringing is to be hospitable. I reckon I’ll try being friendly with one of my English cousins.

  “Howdy there, ‘my good man’,” I say (I admit, I’m proud of being able to work in a bit of the local lingo), “are you all doing all right, tonight?”

  I receive a dubious appraisal in return. Oh well, I’ll try a different English phrase on these gentlemen.

  “Cheerio, y’all. This fog’s somethin’ else, ain’t it? I can't hardly see as far as a toad jump.”

  Hunh. They must not have heard me, because they are trying awfully hard to ignore me.

  There are lots of fancy ladies here in London.

  Dang, but my head’s a spinnin’ at all these pretty women. These London girlies are all gussied up finer than a peacock at the Bird’s World Fair. Their hats are packed with enough bird plumage to give flight to the Buckingham Palace.

  I ain't never seen nothing like these gals before! Some of these modern ladies have started an alluring, and risqué trend, by wearing their corsets on the outside of their dresses! Something about the way they wear their bustles tends to exaggerate, rather than to hide, their more delicate assets.

  I like this place!

  Chapter 4 - A New Ally.

  Persephone

  What was before a lively courtyard, bustling with creatures great and small, is now lifeless and desolate.

  Drained from the events of the night before, I leave this melancholy scene. With no horse in the stable, I set out to walk to the Elderberry Pond train station. The events that led to this sad moment play in my mind.

  It began a few months ago, just after Father’s tragic death. I cling to the hope that the foul forces he had used to complete his experiments have departed as well. Alas, no...

  As Uncle Victor and I are cleansing the laboratory of the disgusting sigils father had scrawled over floor, wall, and ceiling, the beloved family retainer is attacked in a vicious assault I am powerless to stop. I know it is something not of this world, something unclean and unnatural. It draws the very life force out of Uncle Vic and drops his used husk. A hideous thing is formed, something I do not want to remember. I fly from the abomination in terror. I run into Michael the stable boy. He has heard me scream and come to my aid. The monster comes! Michael cannot see it! I can, but he cannot! Run, child, run! Alas no, I think his teenage infatuation with me has led to his wanting to protect me. He is a tragic, would-be gallant, slain in a wasteful manner.

  Father had always been a man of the strictest scientific disciplines. After the passing of the 'Revelatory Comet', it was Father – with his already brilliant mind amplified by the Comet’s effect - who discovered the inner workings of atoms. This lead to his discovery of the nature of the Sun’s power: nuclear fusion. I remember the night when he showed me the equations, which he said had ‘come to him’ as if in a dream. Even then, his excitement seemed a bit alien, yet I was enthralled by the concepts he presented.

  He knew that if he could make use of his new understanding to replicate this series of reactions, Mankind could harness the power of the stars themselves to provide incalculable energy. Energy enough to power the world.

  Yet for all of his knowledge, for all of his precise and brilliant equations, he could not recreate the necessary conditions through scientific means. Where before the Comet’s passing he would have accepted this dispassionately, the changed man Father was could not contain his almost-frightening zeal. It was then that he succumbed to the temptations of dark magic to bring about what he could not, by science alone. It was as if the Revelatory Comet’s effect not only amplified his intellectual prowess, but somehow warped his character, weakening his resistance until he became capable of misusing magic in such a way. Father Summoned... and Something came. Now that Something has returned to our home.

  After last night’s attack on Plumtartt Estate, I know that evil forces are loose in our fair land.

  I have been in contact with a newspaper reporter. Normally, I would eschew such an ally, but this is a man of resolve and grit. He has seen much in this world, and could very well be the man to help me tell my story to an unsuspecting country.

  Hello, what's this? A wagon approaches. It is from the Plumtartt Factory, home of the Sol Furnace.

  “Miss Plumtartt! You are needed at the factory. We had two more deaths overnight. Horrible things. Some of the men are refusing to enter the plant. It looks like there could be trouble. Miss, please come at once!”

  “You shall first take me to the Elderberry Pond train station.” I command the wagon driver, “and then return to the factory to have it closed until further notice. I appreciate the men’s loyalty to the factory and the important projects we have contracted, but no further loss of life is tolerable.”

  The Plumtartt Factory wagon drops me at the station, the driver returning to carry out his previously unthinkable duty of closing the factory. That means stopping production at Plumtartt shipyard. We are close to launching the Dreadfulle. She is destined to be the greatest Battleship afloat, and the Flagship of Her Majesty’s Navy. Three more Battleships are under construction. They are considered a vital part of England's and our allies' security. Though still a few months from my twentieth birthday, I have always taken an active part in the oversight of these massive factories and shipyards. The supervisors will not be happy about it, but my wishes will be respected and my orders will be followed. Governments from around the world will not be happy about the factory and shipyard being shu
t down.

  It is with a heavy heart that I leave my country home.

  Arriving in London, and eventually my hotel, I am still a bit shaken.

  The loss of the Plumtartt stables has made me late for my appointment. I hurry to the chosen place of meeting, ‘Clubbe Mandrake’. It is deemed socially acceptable that two persons of opposite gender may meet here without word of our private tete-a-tete raising eyebrows amongst the leaders of London society.

  My appointment is with the famous reporter and adventurer, Sir Henry Stanley! The very same reporter who successfully searched darkest Africa for the lost Samaritan, Doctor Livingstone.

  “Miss Plumtartt, I presume?”

  “Ha, ha! Yes, Sir Henry.”

  “Please call me Henry.”

  “Thank you, Sir Henry, you may in turn address me as Persephone.”

  “I should be delighted, Persephone.”

  I say, it is I that is delighted for Sir Henry is quite a figure of a man. This bold and intrepid explorer is far more attractive than I had imagined. Tall and strongly built, he carries himself with a singular self-assuredness that is so tempting a refuge in my wretched loneliness.

  “My poor child, Persephone darling, you are over-wrought my dear. May I be so bold, as to put my arm to about you for comfort?”

  “Oh, Sir Henry, I think I would like that very much.”

  Sir Henry’s quiet reassurance and welcome contact melt my composure. Impulsively, I lean my head into his shoulder. In a few short moments, I release the tears that had until now been kept in check.

  “That’s it my darling, just let it all out. Unburden all the woes that trouble your gentle heart and let me do all in my power to help you.”

  Chapter 5 - The London Journals.

  Ichabod

  “I’m feelin’ as perky as a white-tailed doe in February, mister!”

  “Indeed.”

  “I always wanted one of these! A genuine London derby hat! Ain’t she a beaut?”

  “Quite so, sir.”

  “I didn’t wanna to stand out as a foreigner anymore than I gotta, so I thought I’d develop me a little camouflage.”

  “Sir?”

  “Well, with this here Derby, I’m buying from you in this here haberdashery, I feel like I blend right in with the everyday Londoner!”

  “No comment, sir.”

  “Sophisticated English society, here I come!”

  I reckon I oughtta catch up with what’s going on in the world.

  Several papers’ exclamatory headlines catch my eye.

  The Britannic Observer

  S.S. TRIUMPH SETS ATLANTIC CROSSING RECORD!

  “Sol Furnace-driven marvel conquers the Atlantic.”

  “Great Britain’s place as the leading shipbuilder in the world is secured as the S.S. Triumph shatters the Atlantic crossing record.”

  Amazing! I was just on that ship, and a part of her historic crossings.

  The Evening Comet

  PARLIAMENT CONSIDERS SAPIENCY DECREE

  “The ‘Animal Sapience Alliance’ pushes forward with bill to allow rights to animals able to prove an elevation in intelligence to the courts.”

  “Humanists vow to fight for the dominance of Man over Beast.”

  How about that! I had not thought about how the Revelatory Comet might affect animals. I’m not sure how I will react if I ever meet a talking horse. The idea intrigues me, for I have always had a fondness for, and a talent with, handling animals.

  The London Sun

  PLUMTARTT SCANDAL THREATENS NATIONAL SECURITY

  “Howdy, mister, I’m gonna purchase this paper.”

  Not only is this article written by my client, with whom I have an appointment, but it concerns the family Plumtartt, with whom I have a working relationship.

  Story by: Sir Henry Stanley

  “The proud name of Plumtartt, which has brought so much fame and recognition to our country, has now fallen into a pit of shame, and wallows in disgrace. After the recent, untimely death of Professor Plumtartt, eminent scientist responsible for developing the great “Sol Furnace,” the entire estate, including the prestigious Plumtartt Factory and Plumtartt Shipyards, have fallen to his unfortunately demented daughter, Miss Persephone Plumtartt. In an exclusive interview, she reveals a belief in “Evil Forces” at large in the country. She believes that they are the nexus of “ghost” attacks in the areas around the factories. In the ridiculous story she relates, her father was stymied in his efforts to capture the Sun’s energy. He turned to arcane methodology, combined with the latest in scientific application. The Plumtartt girl claims to have been at her father’s side throughout the process, until he entered this occult avenue. Upon entering her father’s inner sanctum of experimentation, she interrupted a grand process, an ‘Evocation’. A violent explosion ensued. Miss Plumtartt claims to have been ‘bathed in an elemental beam’, that wrought a change within the psychotic female.

  In the past two weeks, several more deaths have followed upon the heels of her father. Now, the girl claims to be attacked by hideous monsters. She related that last night, a microscopic creature, an amoeba, miraculously grown to the size of a haystack, attacked her home. She even claims to believe the accident she suffered in her father’s laboratory gave her the ability to combat the giant jellyfish.

  This reporter reveals that it was all I could do to keep from shouting with laughter in the face of this deluded girl. That, however, is where the amusement stops. She has since closed the vital Plumtartt factory and shipyard. Only two passenger ships have been completed, the Triumph, and the Victoria. Miss Plumtartt attributes several recent deaths at these locations to these same ‘Evil Forces’ summoned by her Father. Four battleships are in the middle of construction, and she has stopped their progress just because a few clumsy workmen have managed to get themselves killed. The hysterical girl needs to realize that accidents are a part of business and construction. Our nation’s pride and dignity are at the whimsy of this dangerously unbalanced woman, who obviously is not up to the rigors of industrial command decision. Plumtartt Factory, in the middle of constructing more Sol Furnaces, is likewise shut down.

  These institutions are of National concern. The critical nature of these ships is what will propel Great Britain on to rule the Seas for years to come. One delusional débutante is standing in the way of World commerce and progress.

  It is this reporter’s sincere conviction that the only prudent course is that Miss Persephone Plumtartt be locked up in Bedlam Asylum, for the public good and strategic safety of England.”

  Chapter 6 - Stanley’s True Colours Revealed.

  Persephone

  Oh! What I fool I have been to trust that traitorous reporter. He has made me a laughing stock! Worse, he places our country in danger, not to mention my own freedom.

  Sir Henry Stanley has brought shame and ruin down upon the good name of Plumtartt, with my unwitting assistance.

  I cannot allow myself to to be concerned with my own personal misfortunes. There is something larger at stake, and I am even further behind in my efforts to awaken my unsuspecting countrymen to the danger that creeps among us.

  My eyes are drawn to other papers. ‘Ghost’ attacks continue around the country. Horribly dessicated corpses, followed by terrible stories of violent attacks by invisible creatures. Many suspect that local constabularies are attempting to keep the stories quiet, as not to start a panic.

  My worst fears are realized.

  Evil runs rampant through the nation, while my fellow countrymen obstinately remain reluctant to come to grips with the menace that threatens us. I am helpless to stem the tide of danger inexorably rising around the unseeing eyes of my country.

  Chapter 7 - MisAdventure With A Scoundrel.

  Ichabod

  I am excited about and eager to keep my appointment.

  A meeting with Sir Henry Stanley! What a fine fellow he must be!

  With my ‘Green Beauties’ safely ensconced atop my new Der
by, I faithfully keep my appointment at the wonderful Strand Hotel.

  Let’s see, I am supposed to meet Sir Henry Stanley here in the dining hall of the hotel. Oh, I think that loud, drunken fellow over yonder is the famous explorer.

  “Boy, you there, the little chappie with my goggles. Bring them to me.”

  “Yessir. Howdy Sir Stanley, it sure is an honour to meet...”

  “Yes, it is. Do they work?”

  “Oh, yessir, they work just fi...”

  “Waiter, I suspect that this drink was mixed with a house brand and not the brand I ordered! Bring me a fresh drink at once!”

  “Yes, Sir Stanley!”

  “Get it right this time you limp fop or you’ll be waiting tables on the other side of the river!”

  “Yes, Sir Stanley!”

  “Was your drink really that bad, sir?”

  “Ha, ha! Nah, of course, not, but it never hurts to keep the staff on their toes, eh? Plus I gets me a free drink! Ha, ha!”

  “Oh.”

  “Here is a fresh steak for you, Sir Stanley, I hope it is prepared to your specifications, Sir.”

  “Hmmm, let’s see.” nyum, nyum “Close but not quite, you chorusboy reject. Send it back and try again!”

  “Yes, Sir Henry!”

  “Ha, ha!”

  “That looked like a decent steak to me, Sir Henry.”

  “But the more I send them back, the better they get! Ha, ha!”

  “Oh.”

  “Gimme my goggles, Temporary.”

  “Temperance.”

  “Whatever.”

  “If I may ask, Sir, what is your intention for these goggles?

  A leering grin spreads across his red, flushed face.

  “As you know, I am famous throughout the world for my daring exploits in the dark continent. Those goggles are for my next African excursion. The jungles of the wild lands are not for the faint of heart. It takes an iron fist to conduct a continent spanning safari and rigid discipline. You have to let the Darkies know that a White man has taken charge. Ha, ha!”