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

by Ichabod Temperance

  Mr. Temperance is actually quite intrigued with what the old fellow has hit upon. In fact, he appears to be thoroughly pleased at the old gentleman’s accidental discovery.

  My American friend quickly fashions himself a simple, but effective, device, using the elderly chemist’s formula.

  I must say, there is a definite element of ingenuity to the prize with which we leave this guild of Apothytical Arts. Although the chemists did not hold great affection for him at first sight, Mr. Temperance is now leaving with many friends and well wishers. I am heartened by this small spot of good fortune.

  “Where to now, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am?”

  “I require advice and guidance. One of father’s closest confidantes and my own tutor, Sir Arthur Helmsley of Cambridge is the most knowledgeable man of occult studies in England. I bid you deliver us to Charing Cross, that we may secure railed transport to the college, but not before sending a wired telegraph ahead.”

  I am conflicted. Still stinging from my embarrassing experience with Stanley, I am apprehensive about putting my trust into young Mr. Temperance. Yet something about my impetuous companion pulls at my heart. Where Stanley was all disingenuous charm, Mr. Temperance is...simply himself.

  Arriving at Cambridge's train depot, my tutor and mentor, Sir Arthur Helmsley, greets us with relief. However, one look into each other’s eyes conveys the dread weight of our meeting. I am dismayed to find the professor in a terribly agitated state.

  “Something beyond our knowledge, or even comprehension, is developing around us. An evil dew covers our fair land. Your father was in possession of a relic. A scroll of age beyond the time of Man.”

  “A scroll? You don’t mean to say he used the...”

  “Don’t say it! However, yes, that document is real and was entrusted to your father, Professor Plumtartt, for safety and guardianship. It was unthinkable to us who knew him that he would ever use the unclean object.”

  “The state of his laboratory confirms it, I’m afraid.”

  “Do you know where he would keep it locked up?”

  “Hmm, yes, as a matter of fact, I do know a likely hiding spot.”

  “That thing has opened a gate. Evil slides through. The scroll must be used to stop this plague, but I do not know how. The best minds for this sort of thing are in Paris.”

  “Do you mean Stanislaus?”

  “Yes, of course, take the object to de Guaita and have him decipher the dirty thing.”

  “Yes, thank you, Sir Arthur!”

  “Hurry, child, but Persephone?”

  “Yes, Professor?”

  “Be careful.”

  - - -

  Disembarking our train at Elderberry Pond Station, we hire a horse and cart to carry us to Plumtartt Manor. Dusk falls and darkness gathers as we pass through the iron gates of my grief stricken home. It is an ill wind that heralds our arrival. The rising atmospheric signs of a coming storm, add to the already forlorn aspect of the Estate. The long, tree lined drive is lifeless and desolate. It is difficult to believe this was a happy place, not so long ago. The many chimneys of the great estate are cold and unused. Plumtartt Manor has always been so bright and cheery, but now, the empty windows peer at me like sad and accusing eyes.

  “It would sorely comfort me to have a functional firearm, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, but it’s nice to have something on hand in any case.”

  “Let us hope that you do not need to test the mettle of your device from the chemists in combat, Mr. Temperance.”

  Mr. Temperance and I enter the melancholy manor through the unlocked front door. I hurriedly light a candle and move swiftly toward the North Wing of the immense house. This is where a hidden cache has traditionally protected our family’s most valued secrets. Two hundred plus years old, this wing is the oldest surviving part of the Manor. Seized by a sense of impending doom, I rush to the family chapel. Pulling the heavy door open, I hurry into the place of refuge. I know there to be a secret place of hiding for the family going back for generations of Plumtartts. I carefully remove several relics from the altar. Finally, a painting depicting the Sermon on the Mount is removed. A small cabinet’s secret location is revealed to be built into the wall. Opening this hidden compartment, I see its solitary possession, a small, though strongly built, iron chest. I know with certainty that this is the terrible artifact of which Sir Arthur had spoken.

  I reach for the iron box...

  Chapter 17 – Trapped.

  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.

  Chapter 18 - Step into my Parlour.

  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!

  Chapter 19 – A Monster Built for Two.

  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.

  Chapter 20 – Ipswich after dark.

  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.