A Steampunk Christmas Carol: (The Dracosinum Tales)

by Angelique S. Anderson

  Langdon felt a sadness wash over him, like a tidal wave from the ocean. He knew the youthful version of himself to be selfish, unkind… still focused on the ledger, anything that would weigh in his favor, but he’d had dreams. Somewhere along the way he had lost that, and it had become all about taking advantage of anyone he could, so he could make more money.

  Somewhere along the way, I lost myself. Not that he had ever really known who he was. He realized now that his father’s last words to him had influenced him so immensely he had lost sight of what was good, and wonderful about life. He watched forlornly, as the two men walked right through him, smiling and chatting excitedly before Professor Cornelius locked up the inn and they both disappeared.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Immortal One watched as the younger versions of Professor Granger and Professor Cornelius disappeared.

  “It seems odd, does it not?”

  “What is that Immortal One?”

  “That you were so happy that day, I remember watching you affectionately. I remember thinking that your partnership with Professor Cornelius would result in something good. Some positive change, at least.”

  Langdon stood up, and rather than look at the Immortal One, he walked to the window and stared out into the streets.

  “It’s not that it didn’t result in something good.” Langdon said, angered by the implication that Professor Cornelius hadn’t been a good influence on him. “Professor Cornelius was a good man. Whatever happened to him when he died, he didn’t deserve. It’s just that my father’s words to me, inspired me to be something I never should have chosen. I gave up everything for it.”

  “If Professor Cornelius was such a good man, then why is he with Jacob in the Underworld?”

  “Because I influenced him. I led him away from being generous and kind. I did that,” Langdon said with remorse.

  “Indeed, you did, yet he made his own choices.”

  “Yes, but I was the only family he had. He only did those things to appease me. I was never happy with his efforts. I was always putting him down, or questioning his intentions, as if he would have gone behind my back, or done something to wrong me. Only, I know he would never have done that. It was me. It was me all along.” Langdon was growing more and more dejected by the moment. “If anything, it makes him all the better for his desire to appease me.”

  “Two wrongs do not make a right. He had choices to make, and he could have been a great asset to you, but he chose otherwise. He has only himself to blame for that.” Langdon wanted desperately to protest on Professor Cornelius’s behalf, but then everything disappeared again and Langdon found himself in an elaborately furnished parlor.

  The room featured glorious velvet settees with high backs, and ornate carved wood accents. Tall porcelain vases filled with fresh flowers were spread throughout the room. In the air, the softest scent of lilac.

  “No, no, no… I do not want to be here!” Langdon cried out, already remembering the last time he had been in this room. It had been shortly after he had started his partnership with Professor Cornelius.

  “Why is that?” The Immortal One asked. Then, she walked in, on a young Professor Granger’s arm.

  “My beloved, I have something important to ask you,” he said.

  The beautiful young woman was all smiles in her high necked red silk chemise, with its layer of ruffles, and a leather corset hugging her waist tightly. Her long black and red striped skirt swished as she walked, and an elegant bustle fanned out behind her.

  Langdon’s breath caught in his throat.

  Justine!

  Even though it had been years, the sight of her made his pulse quicken, and he caught himself holding his breath. She was radiant. Why had he not noticed what a great beauty she was? Everything about her called to him, her elegance, her smile, and her gentle demeanor.

  “Why? Why Immortal One? Why bring me here?”

  “This is the last that I will show you from your past.”

  The conversation between the somewhat younger version of himself, and the only woman he had ever loved, continued as if he was not there. Which in reality he wasn’t.

  “What, my love? What excites you so?” Justine’s voice was eager, her eyes sparkling with wonderment at every word he spoke.

  “Come, let us sit here.” The younger version of himself led her to a cream-colored settee. He patted a spot next to him. Langdon hadn’t noticed at the time, but her face was flushed, and she seemed nervous, as if unsure whether she should sit or not.

  “Oh, Langdon… are you sure this is what you want?” Justine questioned. Her hands were shaking as she sat hesitantly.

  “Yes, I most definitely want you to sit, now… hurry, before I lose the nerve to say what I need to say.”

  Justine let out a girlish squeal of delight. At the time, Langdon assumed it was because she just loved him so much that she would be excited about anything he had to say.

  However, sitting there on the outside looking in, he began to get an entirely different perspective.

  “Justine, my love…”

  She sat down next to him, staring deeply into his eyes, her face eager, as if watching for the words to come forth.

  “What is it? Say the words my dearest.” The younger Langdon grasped her hands in his, holding them tightly.

  “I want to know, if….” Langdon stuttered to get the words out. “Will you…”

  Oh, you nitwit, spit it out! He longed to yell at his younger self.

  “Will you be my secretary for my new business venture?”

  “I’d love to m…” Her words stopped short, and Langdon knew then, as he watched the conversation unfold, that Justine had wanted to marry him. That she had believed with all her heart that he wanted that too, for then her face turned pale, and she stood up quite suddenly.

  The younger version of himself was so stupid, that he had only heard her say “I’d love to” and immediately jumped in with an excited, “Oh, I am so thrilled. A new business venture, with my wife to be, at my side.”

  “Wife to be?” she stuttered.

  “Well, if you are to be my secretary, we must marry. I cannot have someone in my employ and privy to my financial situation, without being married to them.”

  She huffed, disgustedly, shooting daggers from her eyes.

  “Langdon Bernard Granger, you are… you are…” her temper was red hot. He could see it in the reddening of her face, and the fire that blazed in her eyes. “You are absolutely reprehensible, and how I could have ever seen anything in you, is beyond me!” she shouted, jumping up from the seat next to him, and storming out the front door.

  Younger Langdon sat unmoving on the settee… wondering just what he had done to cause her to run off, but older Langdon knew exactly what he had done. Why had he used those words?

  “That’s not what I meant! Why am I just sitting there, staring after her like some idiot? Like I didn’t have an ounce of brains in my head? I meant that there was no one else in the world that I trusted like her. I meant, because I trusted her so much I wanted to marry her… she meant the world to me. Why did I let her just leave that day? Why didn’t I go after her?”

  The Immortal one didn’t say a word. Everything around them started to fade once more, but rather than disappear as before, the scene simply changed. Langdon now found himself in a lovely, cozy room. Justine sat in a rocking chair, knitting a blanket out of a lovely red-colored yarn. She smiled happily to herself, and on the floor near her, a little curly-haired boy played, and a small girl rocked her dolly.

  “What is this Immortal One? Why show me this? Why show her to me now?”

  “Simply so you can be at peace knowing that she is happy.”

  “Please. Please Immortal One, take me away from here. I want nothing more to do with this. I can’t… I just can’t.” Langdon covered his eyes as a well-dressed man entered the room they were looking at.

  “My beloved, how was your day?” Justine looked up at the man, and as
everything faded from sight again, the last thing Langdon saw, was Justine’s beautiful smile, and the radiant raven curls framing her face. No matter what happened, he would always remember her that way, as lovely as the day he had first met her and happy despite his own shortcomings. He felt a deep sadness at what might have been.

  “You have no one to blame but yourself, for the sadness you now feel.”

  Langdon let out a despairing moan and pleaded with the Immortal One.

  “Stop it. Go away. Whatever it is, I have done, I repent of it all. I shall right my wrongs. I shall give to the poor. Please, please just go away.”

  His ethereal host nodded his head, and as he did, Langdon felt himself falling. Then, as if waking from a dream, with a bump, he found himself on the ground outside the Octagon Inn. The bright, shining silhouette of his guide faded from sight. As his surroundings became more and more clear, Langdon felt his eyes growing quite weary. Perhaps it was all a dream, and I’ve been sleepwalking. He went slowly back to his room and crawled into his bed.

  He was sure it would all prove to have been an awful nightmare when he awoke in the morning.

  Chapter Twelve

  Langdon awoke with a start in what felt like the middle of the night, recalling the dream he had experienced, pinching himself to make sure he wasn’t still in the middle of it.

  “Immortal One?” Langdon called out, but the surrounding darkness was so intense, if anyone had answered back, he was sure he would jump three feet. The curtains were closed tight, so not even the slightest bit of moonlight made it through. That was how he liked it. However, tonight, after everything he had dreamed, he suddenly wished there was enough light to illuminate the room.

  Then, almost as if someone, or something had heard him, a bright light began to radiate from beneath the door and inch slowly across the floor toward his bed. Langdon’s imagination was getting the better of him and he thought he could feel a skeleton hand on the back of his neck. As the light got even closer, he pulled his legs up in a fetal position, fearful of what would happen when the light reached him.

  The light grew, and grew, and the shadow it created was like a mouth with large fanged teeth that spread across the bed ready to devour him. As he trembled and shook in his bedsheets, the light stopped just as it started over the edge of his covers, and then he heard a great jovial laughter. The sound of it rumbled through the room, shaking the walls and ceiling, and he was sure it would cause the whole inn to come crashing down.

  Just then, his bedroom door blew wide open, and the jovial laughter stopped. “Langdon, come forth,” the voice boomed out. The light pouring into his room nearly blinded him as he tried to see out of his bedroom door and into the hall. Intrigued, Langdon slid his feet over the side of the bed and felt himself being drawn forward.

  I may as well check it out. It can’t be any worse than what I’ve already dreamed. He stepped carefully, one foot in front of the other. Then, he was following the hallway to the great open room at the front of the inn. The entire room had been transformed into some sort of magical Christmas tableau.

  A large table had been pulled in front of the main windows and was laden heavily with food. Langdon was sure that in all his entire lifetime he had never seen such a spread. Around the once dull room holly wreaths adorned the walls and sprigs of mistletoe hung from the door frames. The stair bannister had green pine boughs twined around the railing.

  Along the walls, where old oil lamps had hung, arrangements of lit candles took their place, their tiny flames dancing merrily. Then, Langdon’s eyes already wide with wonder, beheld the source of the jovial laughter, and the booming voice that had called his name.

  The man had a red velvet top hat, with shining silver goggles, above the brim. It appeared to Langdon that the goggles were thick with several layers of lenses. The jacket the man wore was red as well, with brass rivets at the stress points. The jacket’s buttons were oversized brass ovals bearing symbols that Langdon couldn’t quite make out.

  Beneath the jacket he wore a black velvet vest, which barely seemed able to fasten over his rotund belly. A chain ran from a curious looking device in the man’s hand and into a pocket in the vest. His slacks were pin-striped red and black, with black oversized boots that had pockets up and down the sides, which were visible because the man had the legs of his pinstriped pants tucked into his boot tops.

  All in all, he was an odd sight, with baubles and doodads hanging from every loop and pocket on his unusual outfit. He was quite jolly and his eyes shone like twinkling stars.

  The man’s hair and beard were the most unusual of all, as his hair was long and curly hanging down his back framing his face. His beard, like an upside-down mountain of snow, tumbled over his chest all the way to his belly. Around his waist, hung a utility belt which drooped low on his left hip.

  Langdon was both terrified, and completely in awe at the same time.

  “What’s the matter, dear boy, have you never seen anything like me before?”

  Langdon could only gawk and stare, completely at a loss for words.

  “Who are you?”

  “Oh, ho, ho, ho.” The man laughed, clicking the cover shut on the device in his hand, and shutting off the intense light and the feeling of goodwill that had permeated the room. “Well, I am actually one of the Immortal Ones, just a more benevolent version than most of the ones you’ve met so far. However I am much more than that, for I am what makes this world truly good.

  “Are you a Teselym Dragon?”

  “Goodness no, son. While the Teselym merely acts to prevent evil in the world, I am the source of good itself.”

  That got Langdon’s mind turning, and he tried to understand what the jovial man, who reminded him much of the mythical Santa Claus, actually meant.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to explain it a little better, I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, Langdon. My simple boy. ‘Tis not as complicated as your brain tries to make it. You see, your business partner… Cornelius, now rests in the nether world with a dark force. You know of what I speak, yes?”

  Langdon nodded, “I have an inkling. Was it the dark force that Cornelius was chained to when he came to visit me?”

  The man laughed a boisterously, his whole body rumbling with the booming of his voice.

  “That is indeed what he was chained to, when he came to visit you. That being… is none other than the darkest Immortal One who ever drew breath. He casts ideas into people’s minds, you couldn’t even begin to imagine.”

  “So, what does that make you?” Langdon asked, his voice taking on a near childlike curiosity.

  The man stopped for a moment and gave Langdon the strangest look.

  “Well, son. In all my years of doing this, I’ve never been asked such a thing. I’m one of the Immortal Ones. But, while the dark Immortal One wants to pull everyone into his darkness influencing them in the worst possible way. I represent hope and strive to do the opposite.”

  “It all sounds a bit hokey if you ask me,” Langdon said, unable to hide the sneer in his voice.

  “Indeed it does, because you have never experienced a truly, genuine, good thought. You’ve had good actions done by others to you. But, every thought you’ve ever had has been about you, and selfish in nature. That is where I come in.

  “I am pure goodness. As pure and perfect as you can get in this world.”

  Langdon didn’t feel completely convinced. It was somehow easier to accept the idea of an ethereal being so dark as to chain up and hold someone prisoner who was good and didn’t deserve it, like his former business partner Cornelius, than it was to accept that there was a being that was pure good.

  “Is it because I look like Santa? He may be a fairy tale for children, but even his story originated from truth.”

  The man remained quiet for a time, and when he finally spoke, his voice was a great deal calmer.

  “I can tell you are finding it hard to process this information, so let me just simplify
it for you. I instill a sense of goodness in humanity, and unity with your fellow man.”

  “But you are indeed an Immortal One?”

  “Yes, that I am.”

  Langdon nodded his head. I can make my peace with that even if I don’t understand it completely.

  Then he said, “Immortal One, I had a dream… a great and terrible dream about many awful things I have done in my life. Things I regret now, but cannot undo, so I beg of you, if that is what you are going to show me tonight, let me sleep instead. I will do whatever I must, and help whoever I must in order to be a different man, a better man. But I cannot endure the pain of seeing what I saw last night, again.” Langdon looked down at the floor, genuinely humbled and sad as he remembered everything he had seen.

  He had truly been a horrible person, and it was no wonder that the Immortal Ones wanted to turn him into the next Siapheg. There was really nothing worth saving inside him. He was rotten to the core of his being.

  “Touch my pocket watch.” The Immortal One held out the device that he had been holding in his hand. Now that it was closed, and no light shone out of it, Langdon only felt slightly afraid of touching it. After everything that had happened, he was sure that the thing would turn him into a creature or transport him to somewhere awful.

  Langdon reached out his hand and gingerly touched the device, gritting his teeth and scrunching his eyes, expecting the worst that could happen. In the twinkling of an eye they found themselves standing in the middle of a vacant street. The moon had risen high in the sky above them, and the surrounding homes stood in quiet darkness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Langdon watched as the cold fog rolled between the buildings and across the street in front of them. The full moon flooded the night sky, drawing Langdon’s eyes like a magnet. He stared at it for the longest time, realizing he had never once taken the time to appreciate the beauty of a simple thing like the moon. Unfortunately, that had been the case for a lot of things in his life.