A World of InTemperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 2) (14 page)

P.O.V. Abigail

“Enough! The fate of the world be hanged! I’ve never made an animal suffer, and I have no intention of starting now!”

“I say, quite right!”

“Oh! Oui! I agree, my dear! If you can save these beautiful horses, Abigail, then your DeeDee votes for this, too!”

I estimate it’s been twelve hours since we abandoned our comrades.

Yeah, estimation of time, distance, and direction: the logistics of our campaign have been laid in my lap. It never fails. Wherever I go, I’m the predominant weight-bearer of responsibility.

My companions, though very capable ladies, are out of their element.

What is the source of Mademoiselle Gauzot’s uncanny physicality? I’m far stronger than most big men, but the frightening ease with which she scaled that cliff, surpasses my own strength. Her wit and sophistication saw us through a tight spot at the factory.

What about Plumtartt? I want to know more about the power she displayed in the Hellspawn valley.

“If we send them back now, I think they have a chance of making it back to civilization. It is up to us, not them, to go forward.”

“Pooh, I had so carefully packed my belongings.”

“Nevermind that, Persephone, just drop all the supplies off all the horses. Don’t worry about unpacking.”

“Oh, this is easy for DeeDee, I think, for I have already trimmed my baggage to just a few items, oui!”

“Come here, all you horses. You will be fine. The way is safe. I am sending you home.”

“I say, there they go! Oh, dear, it is rather discouraging to see them disappear into the cold, bleak night, is it not, eh hem?”

“Nevermind them, help me clear a spot of ground clean of snow.”

“Oui, oui! Sweep, sweep!”

“I say, we can build a protective wall with our baggage to protect against the blustery gales, eh hem?”

“Good, Persephone, now we can improvise a tent from these blankets.”

“My parasol will be the tent pole, oui!”

“Good, DeeDee. I will slide the carriage bolt out of this rifle and we’ll use the barrel for ventilation. I will allow one candle to be lit.”

“I say, good show!  These are absolutely delightful diggs for the night, wouldn’t you agree, Mademoiselle Gauzot, eh hem?”

“Oh, oui my Persephone, our accommodations are most charming, to be sure! The Mademoiselle GoldenBear is the saviour of our little party. Hurrah and bravo Miss Abigail!”

I feel myself blushing!

“Thank you, DeeDee. Everyone brings their own unique strengths to the table; I am happy to share mine.”

“Oh, you bring many skills, Abigail, oui! You have the uncanny navigational prowess, that guides us unerring to our objectives! You are one with the woods and share a sacred bond with the animals that populate them. You command fantastique magical powers to defeat our enemies that rise from Nature Herself! Not to mention the strong punch, too, I think! The formidable, Mademoiselle Abigail GoldenBear! Vous êtes magnifique!”

“Oh, and let’s not forget the ever dependable and competent Mademoiselle Persephone, too! What are these mysterious blasts of red energies! Sacre bleu! This is an extraordinary power you display, Mademoiselle, oui!”

“I say, let me not keep my fellow adventure-mates in suspense another moment. I inherited a power through my family bloodline, a power that lay dormant until I intruded upon a laboratory experiment my father was conducting. I was bathed in a strange beam, which not only brought this dormant power to life, but increased its intensity greatly. I do not know its exact nature, but it feels similar to the scarlet glow of power that Miss Goldenbear wields. Through recent, Eastern Martial training, I have learned to harness this power and use it as my own. I also suspect a small amount of influence from the passing of the Revelatory Comet on my intellectual capacities. That is all the explanation I can offer. Quite frankly, I am most eager to learn the nature of your extraordinary abilities, Mademoiselle Gauzot. You display superhuman acrobatic and climbing skills as displayed on the icy cliff, and then moved at a pace almost faster than the eye could follow as you dispatched many Saurian Soldiers in the valley of Bar’Bazaul. Despite your slim stature, you are far stronger than you appear. I confess I’m most perplexed. Would you be so kind as to enlighten us, Mademoiselle, eh hem?”

“Oh, you are too generous I am sure. You ladies are far more interesting than Mademoiselle DeeDee I think, oui!”

“No, Deedee, I’m with Persephone on this. You have been more than just a little obtuse with the goods on your background. I insist upon a proper explanation.”

“C’est la vie? If Mademoiselle Abigail says I must, then I must, I think.”

Gauzot busies herself with the placement of her skirts, and the primping of her hair. After a quick moment to quickly gather her thoughts, DeeDee continues.

“Oh, I am happy to confess that I am the product of the finest finishing schools on two continents, oui!”

Gauzot excitedly warms into her obvious fabrication.

“Zee training in zee etiquettes, zee culinary and zee musical arts were but a start! Oh, oui! Riding zee horse and zee athletics of zee badminton. Oh, my, this has honed your DeeDee into quite zee athlete I think, oui!”

“Finishing school, eh? I think there’s something fishy in Kuetinpeenk Bay.”

“I say, thank you, ever so much Mademoiselle. My cares are assuaged. Your reassurances wash away any doubts I may have harboured, dear, dear, Mademoiselle Gauzot.”

~batt, batt, batt~

“Dearest, Persephone.”

~winky-dink~

“I say, there is just one more item that I would be, oh, so, grateful for another candid reply, if I may, though?”

“But of course, my child, I am zee open book, n’est ce pas?”

“Quite so. Your unfortunate allergy to sunlight. Have you suffered from this malady for some length of time?”

“Oh, Oui. I am afraid that the condition came upon me as a young woman, and I have languished in its grip ever since.”

“I see, yes, quite. Thank you ever so much, Mademoiselle.”

“Oh, but of course, my sweet Persephone.”

“Oh, I say, forgive me, but there is just one other little point I should like to clear up if possible?”

“Of course, Persephone, I am your most obedient servant. Please, my lovely girl, ask me anything that could be causing the concern in your pretty little head?”

“Why did you slay Colonel Ketchouppe, by exsanguination, on the Winniedepuh Express?”

“Duh-what!”

My two companions of this extremely tiny shelter never blink. Nose to nose, they both look calmly into each other’s eyes. Each femme calmly measures her opponent’s pupils and the depths within.

“Please calm yourself, Mademoiselle GoldenBear.”

Gauzot speaks to me without breaking the eyelock on Plumtartt.

“Persephone forgets that we had the delightful little Belgian detective clear up our little mystery, no?”

“No, Mademoiselle. He merely proclaimed the despicable Colonel as being unworthy of continued existence, an opinion agreed upon by all at the time. The murderer, though, was never discovered.”

“Oh! Zee mystery! To think back on it now seems so thrilling, no? But I tell you, somehow, I never let it bother me much, too!”

“Quite.”

“Oui.

“Rather.”

“This tiny tent is too confined for any physical outburst in this little stare-down, test of wills. You two shut it down or I will.”

“Your DeeDee is at ease, Mademoiselle Abigail.”

“I say, I’m as cool as an arctic eve.”

“To tell the truth, Persephone, I think DeeDee saved Colonel Ketchouppe’s life. I was about to break his neck right there in the club car when DeeDee suggested we all retire for the evening.”

“Abigail!”

“Just speaking the truth, Persephone. That man represented so much of what is hateful in this world. In fact, I recall being a little disappointed that someone else got to murder the disagreeable gentleman before I got the chance.”

“Miss GoldenBear! My word!”

“Well, maybe I did allow myself to grow over-fond of the dog. When he called him an ugly mutt, that was the last straw, for me. If I had a lead pipe handy, I would have done him right then and there, in the club car.”

“Abigail!”

“There, I have been truthful and forthcoming. As a show of respect, I would appreciate everyone present not withholding from one’s team-mates.”

“Okay, okay, I may have had some small part in the extinguishing of that smoldering lump of sulfur, but that was then and this is now. Do we have any biscuits?”

“Yeah, DeeDee, we’ve got biscuits, but not until we clear this business to its entirety.”

“Very well,
~sigh~
I killed him.”

“Why, Mademoiselle?”

“I was hungry.”

“Have some biscuits.”

“Quite so. I postulate that you, Mademoiselle, were the only person capable of making your way over the top of a frozen, speeding train. You climbed in the window, made a hemoglobic withdrawal, and then returned to your compartment via the exterior of the Express.”

“Oui.”

“I say, Abigail, I can virtually see an imaginary carbide lamp igniting above your head.”

“You were hungry for his blood! You have an allergy to sunlight! You possess inhuman strength and agility! You’re a vam...”

“Let’s just say that I am your friend, Mademoiselle GoldenBear.”

“I say, do we need to fear for our own blood supply Mademoiselle Gauzot? Will you slake your thirst on us when we are unsuspecting, eh hem? I refuse to accept any more pussy-footing around, I assure you.”

“Ha, Ha! No, no my dears. The humans, they have certain, dietary preferences, oui?”

“Sure.”

“Mademoiselle Persephone, do you care for zee haggis?”

“I should say not! It is an abomination! I enjoy fine English cuisine.”

I exchange a look with Gauzot. We both have the good sense and etiquette to refrain from speaking on this paradoxical statement.

Mademoiselle graciously and seamlessly plunges on.

“Oui, so it is with the blood of good humans, you see? It would be far too insipid a beverage for the likes of Mademoiselle DeeDee. Even the odor, it repels me. True, there is an evil sect of my kind that prey upon the good, but I am not of them. It is only the blood of the truly wicked that can slake my thirst, no? It has such, bouquet, such, flavor, no? Neither you ladies, nor anyone else of the good heart, has any cause to fear me, I think, oui? DeeDee also enjoys dispatching those who would be up to the nasty tricks, you know, with these bombs and dishonourable plots, no? Oui!”

~sigh~
“I think she’s okay, Persephone. I vote we continue with Operation Coldfeet.”

Plumtartt holds her no-nonsense expression for several seconds before collapsing into a radiant smile followed by gay laughter.

“I’ve had every confidence in you all along, Mademoiselle, I just needed to get the full story out in the open.”

“C’est wonderfulle! Ladies, I salute our Battalion de la Justice des Femmes!”

P.O.V. James Murray

“Okay, you can quit pushing now, Wolfie. I’m getting tired.”

“You are getting tired? Vot about me? I am zee one out here in zee snow pushing your ridiculous steam car! Vhy do I push, vhile you sit and steer?”

“I’m the one with an operator’s license. Were I to let you drive, you might get a moving violation citation.”

“Citation? Do you mean a traffic ticket? Vot ticket? Vhere eez the constable to given me mein ticket? I vould gladly pay ticket for a few lumps of coal. How could you forget to fill the coal bin? Dumpkauf!”

Me mate Wolfgang is in a tizzy, but he’ll cool off after he’s had a ringer ‘round the binko reef.

I park my glorious steam car. I had to beg and plead to get K.E.W.W. to release her to me. Those wangadoongs are a stingy lot, always wanting a secret agent to return his toys unbroken when he’s through playing with them.

After much effort, [At which Wolfie is no help; he is pouty with me for shocking him with the Voltage Regulator, exhibiting Command and Control at the three secret factories, scaring him with my driving prowess, generally showing him up in the Alpha Male masculinity department, and making him push the steamer for several miles. (I could have sworn I filled that coal bin. Oh yeah, me coinage had an albatross around its gulliper.)] I am able to secure the canvas top on the roadster. We now enjoy a respite from the elements. The enclosed compartment provides a tiny bubble of protection from the blizzard’s blowing gale.

My Teutonic sidekick is a gloomy gorp.

I know, I’ll create a diversion!

“Wotcha, Wolfie ol’ boy. How about a chronologically exponentialized proponing of your life’s goolalongs.”

~sigh~
“Okay, you vould vant to go first?”

“That’s all right, I’ve shown you up enough already. You might have a hard time following my goolalongs.”

“Okay, here goes. I am the son of the greatest man that ever lived. Rudolph Metzger himself! He left Austria for the New World in 1843. On the ship bound for the United States, he met and fell in love with the greatest woman zat ever lived. Mein mother, Beulah Korke. From Berlin Germany, she comes to America full of hope and promise. Her fateful meeting of Rudolph was a coming together of destiny. They were the hardest working, truest hearted stock of people that ever walked the Earth. They settled in the center of their adopted home, the heart of America. It vas vot would eventually become the United States of America’s state, Michigan. Rudolph and Beulah are an example for others to follow and aspire to. They help to establish and found the township of Bad Axe. They had a son. His name, Wolfgang.”

The mood in the steamer has gotten a melancholy tone. The big guy hesitates for a moment. I am afraid that I have inadvertently opened painful memories.

“I grew up in an ideal existence, on a Michigan dairy farm. This vas paradise! Would that every boy und girl could grow up in the safety, innocence, und zee wholesome goodness of honest, rural, grandeur.”

“Grass in the spring. Fishing in the summer. Cicadas in the fall. The warmth of the cows, und the smell of the hay in the barn, during winter.”

“Sounds pretty nice, Metzger.”

“Ja. A Germantown community arose here. These were wonderful times, vith wonderful peoples.”

“Our community enjoyed a reputation of kind und generous folk. Romani would often pass through our lands. The happy gypsies were alvays velcome, for they would bring their merry dancing, singing, and the telling of great tales. Bad Axe alvays enjoyed their visits...”

“...until the Dark Caravan came.”

“A caravan arrived one ill-fated night, her dark wagons populated by an evil group of unhealthy peoples, with a fanatical repugnance to the sunlight. Would that vee had refused them entrance to our home, but as I say, our folk were known for their generosity.”

“The evil gypsies were murderers! Blood thirsty monsters! Nosferatu. Banshees of blood on our sacred land.”

“My father und I make a terrible discovery in an isolated area, one of our gentle, dairy cows, dead. We know it is the dark brood that bears responsibility.”

“Mein father’s face, when he sees the dead animal, is terrible to behold.”

Silence fills the frigid little road car. The Alaskan wind howls around the canopied cocoon of our frozen steamer.

“Father’s eyes are full of decision.”

“Father tells me to go home, then walks in the direction of the evil gypsies’ encampment.”

“‘Daddy! No!’ I cry.”

“I run home to Mama.”

“She commands me to stay home.”

“She makes me promise to stay.”

“She runs after father.”

“I cannot tolerate being in the house alone.”

“Soon, in spite of what both my parents told me to do, I go after them.”

“Night has fallen by this time.”

“I am full of trepidation, for a complete silence has taken the prairie. Innumerable insects should fill the night air with happy chirps, but instead, a sound-deadening oppression grips the plain.”

“I vont to go home, but I must find Mama und Daddy.”

“I find the camp of the Dark Caravan. I sneak up on the unruly revelers. The light of their campfire protects my approach. They are in a wild state of inebriation, drunk on mein parents...”

“Easy, big guy. I get the picture. No need to go into details. What happened next?”

“Please remember, I am only sixteen at the time. I do not possess the greatest self control. After vhat I saw, I went berserk with rage. I ran straight at the murdering fiends, screaming and crying with vengeful despair.”

“Krikey!”

“Yes. Vell, one of the men, he grabbed mein arm and twisted it up behind mein back, immobilizing me und bringing a swift end to my thoughts of revenge.”

“Roo-cakes!”

“Exactly. Vell, they all think it pretty funny, me running in und getting myself caught. Three men, und three vomens make this craven carnival. The latter are dressed in a revealing und suggestive style of fashion, all in black. Black lace enhances the close fitting and clingy dresses. They all have long, black hair, and pale, pasty skin. Their faces,  doughy und white.”

“So too, is the complexion of the men. Except their hair pattern. Long und stringy like zee vomen in one, shaven bald, in the next, and a haircut of sorts in the third, having it trimmed high und close along the sides, vith the long lankyness on top.”

“It is the man vith zee long hair that holds me captive.”

“‘Our Suhlly has caught a mouse!’ I remember the bald one speaking. ‘An after dinner sip of wine is offered!These sheep just keep flinging themselves to slaughter! Ha Ha!’”

“‘Oh, Stephanne! Let us have him, please!’ beg the three wenches. The distasteful vomens quickly insinuate their lustful hands all over mein body. Their painted fingernails are as the claws from a bird of prey, tracing the veins on mein neck. With my arms secured behind my back, I am powerless to resist their amorous tortures. The fiends can smell mein blood.”

“The first girl, she eez undeniably comely. A full bodied young voman to be sure. She laughs und smiles in my face. She pushes her voluptuous body up against mein. She knows full well her closeness makes me undcomfortable. Her unbridled teasing brings about an anatomical reaction unbidden.”

“The second girl does not laugh. She hungers for blood. The skinny wretch appears to be starving. She hungrily feasts her eyes with angry anticipation upon her next meal.”

“Then there is the third Fraulein.”

She is the vorst one of them all.”

“She too is dressed as the others, after a fashion. Her clumsy attempts at seductive, Gothic entrancement, though, fail miserably. From her un-sophisticated lace overalls, to her soldier’s boots, unlaced, she is the epitome of what an elegant, and beautiful, voman is not.”

“Her painful Appalachian accent is an assault upon mein senses! Mein friend Ichabod Temperance speaks with a Southern United States accent. A ‘Southern Drawl,’ if you vill. This girl has the Southern accent also, yet lacks the melodious, charming, und relaxzing tones that Ichabod brings to the regional dialect. Rather, this horrid creature is the proverbial fingernails on the chalkboard. Scratching and screeching, she loudly and proudly inflicts her vocal tortures upon us.”

“‘Huh-Ay-ee! Ah no ee-yewh! Yer that boy from over at the dayree farm! Yee-haw! It’s muh luckee day!’ The screech assaults me from beneath a pound or two of clumsy make-up application. The fetid breath nearly gags me.”

“She cradles me close. The odour of her flesh is the vorst smell I have ever suffered!”

“‘Eee-yewh shore got purdy eyes!’ she speaks.”

“‘Yewh gotta kewt nose, too!’ she squawks.”

“‘Yewh shore dew gotta purdy mouffe!’ she squeals.”

“‘Please deliver me’, I pray.”

“Nyet, Amy Moses! You are belong to me!”

“I am cast aside by the long haired male.”

“Don’t werry, Suhlly Bay-Bay. There’s enough Amy Moses for ‘ever-body’.”

“The disgusting blob makes a slow twirl and eyes her fellow Brood members as she makes this last, uncomfortable inference. They sigh, roll their eyes, and shake their heads in exasperated acceptance.”

“Curse you Suhlly! Vhy couldn’t you turn someone more, ... refined? Instead you force us to convey and feed this schwein!” You grant immortality to Miss Pigsty!”

“Come on, Stephanne, she’ll get better,” replies the long haired one referred to as ‘Suhlly.”

“Ah ain’t gots to get no better for
no
boddy! Some men like a big gurl. Like mah Suhlly. Don’t yuh, Bay-Bay?”

“At this point, I realize that I was mistaken in their hair colors, as concerns Suhlly und Amy Moses. What I had taken for black, was actually very dirty, greasy, blond hair. I get the impression that these two slack-jawed voidoids are at the bottom of the undead ladder.”

“The bald one, the one known as Stephanne, has snatched me up after I was pushed aside by the slimy wretch known as Suhlly. Stephanne is considerably bigger and stronger, clutching me in an iron grip, and holding me fast.”

“‘Hey, Spighe-Rhelle, you would take the first bite, da?” Stephanne asks his leader.”

“For leader he must be. His quick and confident actions and mannerisms identify him as such.”

“‘I thought we were through with our feasts tonight, but how can we refuse, when this lamb so foolishly forces itself on us?’ The tall, dark haired male addressed as Spighe-Rhelle observes, eyes lighting up with interest at an unexpected diversion. ‘Very well, I shall have the pleasure of slaying this virgin male child.’”

“The vomen begin to howl and cackle. Amy Moses shivers and quivers, as she attempts to hop up and down  with anticipation. Suhlly shakes off his sleepy demeanor enough to notice. ‘Are we eating again?’”

“Stephanne laughs in mockery at my defenseless position. He holds me securely for Spighe-Rhelle’s inspection.”

“Spighe-Rhelle looks me up und down in disgust. Then a brief, contemptuous, smile.”

“‘Pathetic, where is the challenge that I crave? I shall slake my thirst on this tasty innocence and hope for better challenges tomorrow.’”

“‘Uh-Hay!-uh. Ah don’t no ee-yewh?’”

“All eyes turn to look upon an approaching horse und rider. I think this is vhere I began my love of silhouettes. For that was my first glimpse of her, a momentary silhouette. She approaches from behind me. As I turn to look, she is just an approaching shadow, but the image, however brief and faint, has stayed with me.”

“First Amy Moses, then her noodle-like limp, fish-boy, Suhlly, start to chuckle und snicker. The more attractive, yet infinitely more dangerous vomens and then Stephanne begin to howl with laughter.”

“Spighe-Rhellle defers from the laughter.”

“‘Run avay!’ I scream, but the voman on the horse merely grants me a warm and gracious smile.”

“‘Ha Ha! We had heard of the generosity of the people in this area, but we never dreamed it could be this robust! Truly, too good too be true, da?’ laughs Stephanne, easily holding me in his restraint. ‘First the big male. It was delicious! I have never tasted such pure and noble blood. And then the voman blunders in behind! Again, an unexpected feast! And just when we are celebrating our good fortune, this large, virgin male child offers itself to us! A smorgasbord! Wundarbar! Please, do you mind waiting around until tomorrow evening before we slay you, you foolish woman? Ha, ha, ha!”

The woman easily and confidently alights from her horse. She whispers into the horse’s ear, and it trots off.

Strangely out of place, at night, in a field, alone, and surrounded by murderous fiends, this slight woman is wonderfully and fashionably attired.

Moreover, she is perfectly calm and is apparently assuming control of the little camp.

“Oh, no, no my friend. The blood of Mademoiselle, she is not tasty, like the wonderful people you have slain here tonight I think, too!”

“‘I’ll decide this for myself,’ promises Stephanne.”

“I tell you one of my little secrets. The Mademoiselle, she is not so sweet and innocent, no? Oui!”