A Matter of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 1) (6 page)

Ichabod

“What’s the matter Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am? You snapped your hand back away from that little metal box like it was gonna bite you!”

“I do beg your pardon, Mr. Temperance, but I have a sudden, unexplainable revulsion to touching this object. May I prevail upon you to carry it for me?”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am!”

Miss Plumtartt is so pretty and such a fine girl. She could ask me to carry an armful of angry pit vipers, and I wouldn’t hesitate nor complain.

“This is kind of an awkward little box, ain’t it? It’s about twelve inches long and three inches square.”

Miss Plumtartt snaps her head toward the door. A wave of despair passes over her lovely features.

At the same time I hear our horse scream out in mad terror.

“Come on, Miss Plumtartt, you and me better skidaddle.”

I grab Miss Plumtartt by the hand and pull her from the chapel. Miss Plumtartt led the way in, but with my sense of direction and urgency, I have decided to lead the way out. We fly to an outside door. I hurriedly unlock it and pull.

The door opens an inch.

I put my boot to the wall and pull with strength. The door slowly opens another couple of inches, but stops. Some horrible, glue-like substance holds the portal fast. A thick, sticky, organic rope-like material criss crosses the doorway in many places from the outside and refuses to let the door be swung inward. We can hear rapid movement outside and upon the house. A frenetic and freakish scuttling resounds through the old stones as something big scurries about the mansion with inconceivable speed.

“Come on, Miss Plumtartt, let’s try the front door!”

Dashing to the front entry hall, the way we came in just a few minutes prior, we find the exit in the same condition as the other door. The thick sticky ropes hold the great double doors shut against us. I ram my shoulder into the barrier in an attempt to force it open, but it stubbornly refuses me. It is amazing, and impossible to conceive, but something has bottled us up in the house. We have been wrapped up like a Russian papoose in only a few short minutes. Taking up a heavy bust (that of King George III, I think) and with a running start, I heave the weighty object through a window. Impossibly, it sticks, halfway through. The marbled Imperial Monarch appears to sputter, ‘what? what? what?’ as he realizes himself in such an undignified and strange position.

“Mr. Temperance, something has entered the hallway upstairs.”

“Yes, Ma’am. It sounded like a big ‘un. I think I’m gonna put on my ‘Green Beauties’ spectro-enhancing goggles.”

Rapid and terribly stout taps echo down the lofty hallways, heralding the approach of something big and bad. The industrial rhythm of the impossibly fast hammer strikes are less uniform than the devil-prawn of last night. The asymmetrical beats quickly drum their way to the banister, to reveal our antagonist.

I blanch and nearly falter at the sight. Bigger than a grand piano, is our uninvited guest. This creature is very different than the crustacean from evening last. Putting a few of his too many legs on the upstairs rail, the grotesque aberration looks down upon us. Despite its gigantic, drooling, swollen insectile countenance, the overall impression of the aberration is complete joy at having found us. Several clusters of eyes, much like bunches of grapes, spin with happy and dizzy thoughts of yummy consumption. Frothy lather surrounds many pairs of slathering mandibles that click with fevered expectation to express their excitement.

An enormous, slavering, twenty-legged Black Widow spider props itself up on the rail of the landing. It looks down upon us with delight, for all the world like some horrific family pet. Long trails of poison ooze from the many mouths. Despite the creature’s bloated size, it leaps to the ceiling of the grand entrance hall, scurries across the wide expanse, and drops its bloated weight upon us like a black, two thousand pound sack of bug goo.

Persephone

A horrifying, huge, arachnid-like creature hits the marble floor where Mr. Temperance and I stood a fraction of a second prior. Unlike the amoebic, and then centipedal predecessors, this is some type of enormous spider, but of unearthly size and foul origin. The poison-dripping fiend clearly means to devour us. I cannot be sure which one moves the faster, this wrongful monster or my own Mr. Temperance, for I fail to be able to keep up with the blurred actions of either.

We fly back into the depths of the mansion. My would-be protector takes up a heavy halpern. Swinging the pole-armed axe in a wide arc, Mr. Temperance means to cleave the bulbous bug in twain. The blade enters and passes completely through the monster without effect, contact, nor loss of momentum. The wooden pole, however, makes solid contact and vibrates out of the user’s hands. Mr. Temperance then attempts to slow the horror by throwing obstacles in its path. Several heavy suits of armor would seem to get in the insect’s way, but the frightful apparition runs directly through the steel protectors as if they were not there. It does not knock them aside; rather, the beast runs through the objects without interacting contact, as light passes through sheer fabric material. It is as though, to the creature, the iron or steel does not exist. It is apparent that metals are as nothing when attempting to strike or otherwise harm these wrongful terrors. It is as though, to the creature, the iron or steel does not exist.

Reaching the chapel we narrowly are able to shut ourselves in. The giant insect tears into the heavy wooden door with a ferocity the portal was not built to withstand.

The oaken door quickly disintegrates.

Pulling a large chair into a place beside the door, Mr. Temperance draws his weapon and positions himself by the failing frame. The obscene creature pulls itself into the room, only to have my foolhardy American friend drop upon its loathsome body with fell intent. Mr. Temperance is in a killing frenzy! He needs his berserker rage in order to dispatch the creature, which would seem to have an equal amount of ferocity. I scurry to stay clear of the frenetic fight, which bounces and scrambles around the small room. The desperate spider cannot get this tenacious foe from its back.

Eventually, the alien arachnid slows its struggle. It tries to climb back out of the chapel but this has proven to be its death room. Mr. Temperance finally completes his dispatching duties as he finalizes his insecticidal victory.

The emerald device works! The weapon that Mr. Temperance and his Alchymical allies have forged has proven to function with deadly efficiency.

My hero has slain the Dragon!

Ichabod

P.E.R.K.

Petrified Ectoplasm Resin Knife.

I am out of breath, and a bit done in at the conclusion of my pest control efforts, but I happily manage, “The P.E.R.K. worked, Miss Plumtartt!”

“I say, rather! Good show, Mr. Temperance, hear, hear!”

“Thanks, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, most trial runs don’t hardly never go so well.”

“Fortunately for us, this one was a success.”

“Yes, Ma’am. The hardening process that we worked out with the chemysts has proven itself. So has my hope that these monsters’ own juices may be turned back against them. The hastily prepared mold of my Bowie knife worked perfectly to pour the ectoplasm into. The hardening agent worked to create a most formidable, monster-killing blade.”

“Mr. Temperance, I am very proud of your having developed such an effective weapon. Congratulations, sir!”

“Oh, gee, golly, shucks, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. I’m just glad it worked out for us.”

In spite of my already flushed state from the spider fight, I feel a rush of blood to my face. I can’t help but to blush whenever Miss Plumtartt flashes her electric blue eyes on me.

“However, my clever combatant, we have no time to waste. Let us hurry back to the train station so that we can make passage to the continent.”

‘Yes, Ma’am.”

- - -

“It’s a shame our horse ran off, but I reckon we're about halfway to the station, Miss Plumtartt.”

“I say, it does seem to be much further when forced to walk, Mr. … Oh!”

“Miss Plumtartt! Are you alright?”

“I say, I had an ugly sensation wash over me, Mr. Temperance.”

“Did you also hear a distant, yet familiar and disheartening cry of a panicked horse whinnying in fear?”

“Yes, quite so, Mr. Temperance. This one sounds like it is behind us by less than a mile. I suggest we hasten our pace.”

“Many dogs in the area are taking up the alarm, Ma’am. Another panicked horse whinnied somewhere off to our left, maybe a little closer this time.”

We continually increase our pace. Soon, we are running for the little village of Elderberry Pond. From disparate areas we hear a growing tumult of frightened animals.

“Hang in there, Miss Plumtartt, we’re getting into town, now. There’s the train whistle! It’s fixin’ to pull out! We really gotta fly these last few blocks!”

“Oh, I am done in, Mr. Temperance. I don’t think I shall make it.”

“Hey, looky there! It’s a bicycle! Dad-gum, that is the dangdest bicycle I ever saw. There’s two seats, and two sets of pedals! It’s a bicycle constructed for two people!”

“Perhaps if we asked them nicely, they would consider lending us their serendipitous contraption, eh hem? Oh, no, I see you have a more direct approach in mind, Mr. Temperance.”

“Look out, y’all!”

“You villain! What are you doing, you fool?”

“I’m latching onto this here front wheel tiller and bringing y’all to a halt, sir. I wish I had time to ask nice like, but as we are in a hurry, I’m just gonna have to tump y’all off this here bike.”

“You’ll do no such...augh!”

“Hop on, Miss Plumtartt! Sorry, mister, but this is an emergency! I’ll leave her at the station.”

“Mr. Temperance!”

“I meant the bicycle, not you, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am!”

“I am afraid that my dress does not allow for the use of pedals. I am forced to lift my hem.”

“But Miss Plumtartt, somebody might see your bloomers!”

“You sir, shall keep your eyes forward and hurry us to the station!”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Faster, Mr. Temperance! We are being overtaken!”

“Miss Plumtartt, why ain’t you pedalin’?”

“Oh, a strange sensation bounds through me. Something is happening.”

“Miss Plumtartt!”

“Unh!”

There is a red flash of light and accompanying explosion right behind us. This upsets the two-wheeler and sends us tumbling onto the train platform.

“The train is pulling out! Come on, Miss Plumtartt!”

Miss Plumtartt can’t hardly stand, so I grab her around the waist and hurry her to the departing caboose.

I hear and feel something hit the platform.

I ain’t even gonna take a look with the goggles. I don’t think I want to know what is behind me. I just got to get on this dang train and hope that whatever it is doesn’t catch us.

Persephone

“Although we have managed to board our train, we are not out of danger, Mr. Temperance. I sense the approach of more horrors. I wish you to urge our fellow passengers to move ahead to the forward cars with all haste, even if you must do so at pistol-point.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I hate to brandish a weapon at you folks, but I am strongly urging y'all to vacate this car right this very instant!”

It is not difficult to get people to flee a well-armed, and manic man. That helps us, and I also believe that the frightened passengers of this train car may have a sense of the horrors that pursue us. I have never seen my fellow countrymen move faster.

After emptying the last train car, we follow our fellow passengers towards the next car forward. Turning, and with some effort, namely some very deliberate stomps and kicks, with his out-sized boots, my ever-resourceful friend unlocks the coupling mechanism between this penultimate car and the one recently vacated. The terrific speed of the creatures is chilling. Only I and my goggled defender can see the aberrations catch up to and board the now empty last carriage. Mr. Temperance’s efforts succeed in freeing us from the contamination that has managed to climb aboard. The trailing car slowly separates from our carriage. Several creatures make a headlong plunge after us, but we are just out of their suction pod encrusted, tentacled, grasp.

We are bound for Ipswich.

- - -

We arrive in the seaside community without further incident, but there is an overwhelming atmosphere of foreboding in this English Channel port. The instant we step onto the platform, and then out into the street, we feel a sense of panic. Even the atmosphere of this lively city is astir. There is a tangible taste of fear and confusion in the mood of Ipswich. She feels to be edgy and nervous. Her citizens stand together in small bands murmuring of the ‘Ghost’ assaults and possible sightings.

Excited newsboys hawk their papers full of attack accounts from around the country.

‘GHOST PLAGUE SWEEPS BRITAIN’

‘GHASTLY CORPSES APPEARING WITH
GREATER OCCURRENCE’

It is no longer considered a joke or source of amusement; rather, the public consider these phenomena some kind of supernatural plague.

Mr. Temperance hires a cab and strongly encourages the driver to hurry us to the docks.

Our plan was to go to France, but I feel as if the dynamic of the mission has changed, and that we are fleeing for our lives. It is not until this instant that my understanding has developed and I can see a larger picture. Can all of these supernatural events, the nation over, be solely designed to destroy... me? But why?

“Oh!” This pops from my mouth without prompting from my own conscience, for I suddenly have a dreadful sensation wash through me.

“They are here, Mr. Temperance!” I unequivocally inform my new friend.

The horrible sensation of an unclean horror is overwhelming. I suddenly feel as if this entire area is saturated with the presence of my enemies. The disturbing presence roils up out of the Earth itself.

How can there be such a great concentration of evil? There are so many sources of the terror materializing so quickly!

The horse of the Hansom we are in rears up. Screaming in terror, it is in a mad panic, just as every other animal in the city is suddenly going berserk.

I see a phosphorescent cloud bloom above the heads of a cluster of pedestrians! And now it is followed by another green miasmic cloudbloom in the streets before and behind us.

The panicked horse of our two-wheeled conveyance bolts in a mad panic. It does not take long for the poor creature to wreck the Hansom, wedging it against a building and post.

“Come on, Miss Plumtartt, we’re gonna make a run for it.”

Mr. Temperance takes me by the hand and pulls me out of the trapped cab and after him. He and I make a desperate dash for the city’s channel docks.

Mr. Temperance has engaged his goggles and scans for alien threat. There, is a creature. The loathsome bit of nastiness has an aquatic insect stylization. The nightmare moves to cut off our path. We must get past this monster to achieve the docks. Mr. Temperance stabs the horror with his emerald knife! We hurry for the wharf.

“I see boats, mr. Temperance, we can make it!”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am!”

“Ah!” The gushing cry bursts from my lungs unbidden.

I am caught! A detestable tentacle has grasped my ankle!

“Oh no you don’t!”

Mr. Temperance slashes free. Oh no, another tentacle ensnares Mr. Temperance by the ankle. Now he is caught by the creature...  

Great Heavens, what a monster!

A most squidlike creature fills the street opposite. Such a nightmarish creature I could have never imagined.

Mr. Temperance is putting up a jolly good fight, until he looks at the monster. That seems to dampen his fighting spirit.

My word, the monster is affecting Mr. Temperance in a psychic assault. Unthinkably, this misplaced massive aquatic appears to be bearing down on the young man with the crushing weight of an alien intelligence. Barrel sized obsidian eyes bore into the little American lad.

“Break away, Mr. Temperance!”

He does not hear me. He is caught in the horror’s thrall.

“Mr. Temperance!” I plead. My heart jumps to see the earnest chap endangered.

Mr. Temperance has quite given up his fight. The monster means to devour the dear boy!

“Mr. Temperance!”

He does not hear me!

“Mr. Temperance! Break away!”

He cannot hear me! I scream as loudly as I can manage.

“Mr. Temperance!”

Please hear me, my sweet Ichabod!

“Ichabod!”

He stirs!

“Ichabod!” I hear a touch more hope in my strained voice.

He rouses himself. He is back! That’s it.

Fight, Ichabod!

My Ichabod appears to awaken from a deep slumber, but quickly rallies his stuporous senses. He now fights as a man possessed. Mr. Temperance cuts first himself free from the horrible squamous appendages, catches me up into his arms and bears me to the docks; I am too weak with relief at our narrow escape to protest.

My companion’s faculties have apparently made a sudden recovery for he is able to quickly ascertain which vessel has her steam up and is ready to embark. We unceremoniously board this Channel Launch.

“Here ya’ go, boys.” Mr. Temperance calls, tossing me into the arms of a group of seamen on the deck of the boat.

The captain of the vessel is not amused at our uninvited boarding of his ship.

Before he can have his crew throw us back off, he is distracted by a commotion on the docks. The docks themselves are being wrecked. Invisible forces smash crates, boats and the piers themselves into splinters.

Mr. Temperance passes the captain his goggles and then draws his large American pistol. With three quick but deafening retorts, he unerringly shoots the mooring cleats off our boat. I credit this decisive action for our escape.

The captain’s face goes slack with the vision he is presented with through the goggles and then he roars at his crew to push us from the cursed dock.

I thank providence that Mr. Temperance had the presence of mind to disengage our boat by means of firearm. Otherwise, we would have been too late, overrun by the pursuing mobbe of monsters.

Ipswich is aswarm with our aberrant adversaries.

The rising wind in my face makes me feel as if I am a leaf in a hurricane, no longer in control of my own life and destiny. I am blown about by terrifying forces beyond comprehension. A howling gale continues to rise about my ears. This foul wind whisks me from my English island home.

These storms that have steadily picked up all night now blow us off the isle, just a breath ahead of our adversaries, as if the great gaping maw of an enormous beast has just missed snatching us into its abominable gullet.