Copyright © 2015 Madeleine Holly-Rosing
Published By Brass-T Publishing
All rights reserved.
Print ISBN: 978-0-9883121-8-0
eBook ISBN: 978-0-9883121-9-7
Interior Pencil Art By Emily Hu
Cover Art By Ilsie Om
Formatting by Inkstain Interior Book Designing
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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It all started with a pair of brown leather and shiny brass goggles. I stood in the store staring at those otherworldly objects and was mesmerized. They spoke of a world of possibilities, of the strange, magical, and altogether different.
I would soon come to learn the word that described those goggles best...steampunk. A whole new genre opened to me when I discovered them. A world filled with airships, top hats, corsets, mad scientists, and alternate histories. I found myself devouring everything I could that had any slight steampunk elements and I was, for lack of a better term, smitten.
For me, Steampunk represents an aesthetic that combines the best of history with a science fiction that never truly existed. Creating worlds where a man like Nikola Tesla may have been friends with the greatest detectives of their age. The limitless possibilities are what draw me to this burgeoning genre.
When I wrote my series, The Doorknob Society Saga, I placed it firmly in a universe teeming with Steampunk. I wanted to share my love for this genre with my readers. Because when it is done well, it is something that is both unique and amazing.
Which of course brings us to, The Boston Metaphysical Society. The adventures of Samuel, Caitlin, and Granville and the world in which they reside are some of the most fun and inventive Steampunk I’ve had the privilege to read and enjoy. I first experienced the Boston Metaphysical universe as a comic book and found myself wanting more. That’s when I was happy to discover the shorts stories that had been created. Each a new and interesting look into this fascinating world.
I envy readers who are discovering them here for the first time and those that are returning for another round. Sit back, relax and enjoy the experience.
—MJ Fletcher
Author of The Doorknob Society Saga
Welcome to the world of Boston Metaphysical Society.
This whole project started as a TV Pilot I had written while a student at the UCLA MFA Screenwriting program. I then adapted it into a six issue comic book mini-series which should be completed by the end of 2015. While production was being done on the comic book, I decided to write short stories and novellas as companion pieces. Each is a stand-alone story that are prequels to the comic, with the exception of The Way Home, which takes place between pages 3 and 4 of the first issue. (The Way Home was originally published in A1 Anthology from Titan Comics/Atomeka Press.) Clockwork Man (originally published in eSteampunk Magazine March 2013) is unique in that it takes place during my version of the American Civil War which I refer to as “The House Wars.” With seven stories completed, I decided that I finally have a large enough collection to warrant putting them together in one volume.
Since I have been living in this world and with these characters for quite a while now, it was inevitable that aspects of the story and the characters would change. The world broadened and deepened, which meant the stories I wrote two years ago needed to be edited. So I have gone back and re-written and re-edited all of them. This volume reflects those changes.
One of my many future projects is to write Boston Metaphysical Society as a novel. I do not have any plans to novelize the comic, but to write novels that are either prequels to the comic by delving into “The House Wars” and also taking off where the comic left off. For my comic fans out there, I do have plans to continue on past the six issue mini-series, but that will have to wait until time and budget permits.
Many thanks to my beta readers, Bill Meahan, Jody Susskind and Nickolas Diak, my editor, Joselle Vanderhooft and fellow writer, Elizabeth Watasin for her many insights and advice. And a very special thank you to my husband, David, who has helped make this journey possible.
The Clockwork Man
The Devil Within
The Way Home
The Secret
Steampunk Rat
The Secret of Kage House
The Demons of Liberty Row
Based on the webcomic BOSTON METAPHYSICAL SOCIETY, this story takes place during the time of the House Wars, thirty-five years prior to the start of the webcomic.
LUCIUS GARRETT KNEW HE WAS dead when he woke up.
He knew it because he had watched the steel rod fly through the air and plunge into his chest after the explosion. His breath left his body as he was thrown backwards crashing into a row of airship rigging. Now, he was awake, breathing, and very much afraid. It was clear the rumors were true. His would have been a mortal wound unless you worked for Houses Hibbard and Tillinghast of Chicago.
Lucius woke up in a room the likes he had never seen. Steel and brass human legs and arms hung on one wall while the other was a wooden beehive filled with various sizes of gears and springs instead of honey. A tube made of cattle intestines was imbedded into his arm forcing a pale liquid into him by way of a steam-powered generator. A kind, but rather strange Dr. Casselberry removed the tube as he told him what an extraordinary man Lucius was and then shown him why he was still alive.
With his heart crushed, they had replaced it with a clockwork mechanism which ran on a metal spiral coil inside a clock barrel large enough to operate a medium sized timepiece. His heart valves were stitched closed with the rubberized cotton material used to create the hydrogen gas cells they manufactured so his blood could continue to flow. A flap of that same material was glued to the surrounding skin on his chest to protect it. And there was something else.
A small device imbedded within the clockworks would explode when the mainspring ran down.
Overwhelmed by the thought he was alive just in time to face impending death, Lucius could barely breathe. How could he go home knowing he was a walking time bomb? He told Dr. Casselberry it would have been better to let him die.
The older man shook his head and informed Lucius his family had perished in the same explosion which had injured him. Perplexed at how something like that could happen, Dr. Casselberry uttered one word—sabotage. Someone had lit a spark in the hydrogen gas bag factory where they worked killing men and women alike. Lucius remembered his wife had brought their young son to work that day and screamed in anguish.
Lucius grabbed the doctor by his lapels and slammed him against the wall demanding to know how House Hibbard would allow such a thing. They had no enemies. They were not part of the war between the northern and southern Houses. All they did was build airships. A wiry but strong man, it took two guards to pry him off the startled man. After a few minutes Lucius calmed himself and apologized for overstepping the boundaries of propriety.
Dr. Casselberry explained that the merger of House Hibbard with House Tillinghast brought them financial stability, but may have brought their enemies as well. It was believed the Northern Houses were punishing them for not joining their war against the Southern Houses. Chicago tried to stay neutral but others wanted them involved. When Lucius asked what his patriarch, Abraham Hibbard thought, Dr. Casselberry said he was ordered to tell Lucius it was his duty to his House and his family to avenge the lives that were lost. No matter what the cost.
Lucius agreed.
In a voice devoid of emotion, the doctor explained the task House Tillinghast set forth for him; Lucius was impressed with how well every detail had been thought out. Almost as if they had planned for this moment for a long time. But how could they? No one planned on sabotage. You could prepare for it, try to thwart it, but if someone was determined enough to risk all—there was no way to stop them.
Dr. Casselberry gave him just enough opiate to handle the pain from the surgery. Not that Lucius needed it. The rage in his heart burned like molten ironworks forcing the searing agony which racked his body far out of his mind. His mission was clear. He had money, uniforms, passwords and names of people he would pretend to know. All he wanted to do was to arrive in Boston in five days and stand in a theatre box and wait until his clockwork heart stopped. Lucius did not know who his target was and didn’t care. Anyone who murdered women and children deserved to die.
Two days later, Lucius was on an airship halfway between Chicago and Boston. A fierce crosswind pushed against the hydrogen balloon as it fought to stay on course. He took a deep breath and instead of feeling his heart pump he heard only the sound of whirring gears. Liberated from a heart which no longer existed, he was glad his time on this earth was limited for Dr. Casselberry had told him current clock spring technology meant he would wind down in a mere eight days.
The airship crabbed against the crosswind then seemed to give up and turned to starboard. The airship vented hydrogen and descended. A crewman secured a rope ladder and threw it over the side. He gave Lucius a jerk of his head to let him know it was time.
Apprehensive, Lucius strapped his pack on his back, stepped out of the gondola and on to the ladder. He did his best not to look at the ground. An airship rigger for over eight years, he still didn’t like flying in these monster balloons he helped build.
Landing near a cemetery caused him wonder once again where his wife and son were buried. He had snuck out before he left to pay his respects, but could not find their graves in the company plot. The newly tilled earth made it easy for him to find several friends who had perished, but there was no sign of Mary or George. He wanted to ask Dr. Casselberry about it but feared if he did they would send someone else to Boston.
The rest of the journey was less adventuresome. Lucius hitched a ride to the train station on a horse-drawn cart where he bought a ticket to Boston. He cleaned himself up in the train’s facilities and put on the nice suit of clothes he carried with him. Worried someone might hear the ticking in his chest, he tried to sit alone. When they did not work, Lucius realized the noise from the train and the passengers masked the sound. When he arrived in Boston, Lucius followed his strict instructions and took a room in a boarding house appropriate for well-bred travelers on a budget. He paid a week’s rent in advance and settled in for the night.
With a mere twenty-four hours to live, Dr. Casselberry suggested Lucius use this time to enjoy the small things in life: an ice cream, a fine meal or even the company of a lovely woman. Lucius would not have any of it. For without his family, none of it held any meaning. As he watched the sun come up after not sleeping, he tried not to let the beauty of it sway his resolve; however, impending death made every color, every sound even smells more vibrant. The day ended more quickly than he thought possible and he soon found himself dressed in the uniform of a Northern House. Holding on to his anger like a drowning man hanging on to a life vest, Lucius straightened his jacket and prepared to end his life.
His instructions were to go to the side entrance of the theatre and present his papers. He had memorized the passwords and information Dr. Casselberry had given him. When he arrived, the guards allowed him through after a brief pause over his credentials and a joke about the idiosyncrasies of his alleged employers. He marveled at the spy network House Tillinghast possessed which provided him such easy access.
He kept a neutral expression as he marched up the back stairs to a corridor where the box seats were located. Two guards stood outside of the box seat where his target sat. He saw they wore the same ship emblem on their lapel like he did. Lucius gave them a nod then tapped on the door. When he entered, Lucius expected to see the definition of evil.
What he found was a once attractive middle-aged woman and a seven year-old boy.
“Where is my grandson?” she barked at him.
“Ma’am?” Lucius stared at her a little dumbfounded.
She glared at him with fierce eyes. “You’re all useless. Stay with the boy.” The woman swept passed him and out of the theatre box.
Lucius saw the boy sitting on the floor taking apart a mechanical toy horse.
The boy looked up at him and grinned. “Do you want to play?” he asked holding up the toy.
Unable to speak, Lucius slumped into a seat. He trembled with shock and anxiety. This was not how he imagined it would be. To kill a woman, a child and a few guards, he thought to himself. How can that be right? But he hardened his resolve knowing his own family had suffered a horrible death. It was only just that the families who murdered his should die. He would sit here until his life ran out.
Lucius composed himself. “No,” he responded with no hint of emotion.
The boy shrugged his shoulders and continued to disassemble the toy horse. With gears and springs soon spread out over the floor, the boy grew bored and plopped onto the seat next to him. He paused for a moment then leaned closer to Lucius as if listening for something. Suddenly, his eyes lit up in joy.
“I can hear your heart. It’s clockwork. Can I see it?” the boy pleaded.
Used to obeying orders, Lucius opened his shirt and peeled back the flap that protected his mechanical heart.
The boy examined it then frowned. “You’re winding down.”
“Time has taken on new meaning,” Lucius answered with no hint of irony.
“You’ll die. Why’d they build it that way? It’s silly.” The boy looked annoyed for some reason Lucius couldn’t fathom. “I can fix it.”
“What?” Stunned, Lucius tried to peer inside his own chest. “That’s not possible.”
“They used a simple spiral mainspring instead of a reverse one. See.” The boy picked up a spring from the floor which curled back on itself at both ends. “This is too small, but I’ve got one that should fit.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a man’s pocket watch. “This should work.”
Lucius grabbed the boy’s arm dragging him in closer. “You’re lying. This is a trick,” his voice turned guttural.
Hurt, the boy tried to pull away. “No. I can do it. Really. Why doesn’t anyone believe me but father?”
“How long?” Lucius demanded. “How long will the mainspring last?”
“A long time, I think. Father told me this time piece was forty years old. But if you keep replacing the mainspring before it wears out…” the boy’s voice trailed off as he shrugged. “I don’t really know.”
Emotions roiled within him so intensely he thought he was going to be ill. Lucius gripped him harder to steady himself. If a boy could fix his heart, there was no reason why Dr. Casselberry wasn’t able. So why didn’t he? Was it all a lie? If yes, what else did he lie about? The situation was almost too much for Lucius to comprehend until he realized he was just one of the many gears in the machine known as House Tillinghast.
The scared yet eager look on the boy’s face brought him back to reality. He released him and made a decision.
“Be quick about it, boy.”
>
Prying open the pocket watch to reveal its inner workings, Lucius saw the initials “C.W.” etched on the inside. The boy removed the mainspring and placed it in Lucius’s hand for safe keeping. After lifting off the clock barrel head in Lucius’s chest, the boy gasped. “It’s almost wound down.”
“If I hold my breath would that give the mainspring more time?” Lucius asked.
“It might. I…I don’t really know.” For the first time, the boy sounded unsure.
“Yes or no?” Lucius demanded.
The boy hesitated a moment then said, “Yes.” He hovered over the device with a jeweler’s tool he used on the mechanical horse. “Now.”
Lucius held his breath expecting it to be his last.
The boy shook from nervousness and dropped the mainspring on the ground. He scrambled around on the carpeted floor for a moment then thrust his hand in the air in victory. The boy returned to his task.
Lucius face’s turned pale then red.
“Almost there.” The boy announced working as fast as he could. After a moment more, he stepped away from Lucius with a hopeful look on his face. “Breathe.”
Lucius exhaled then inhaled. No explosion. Nothing.
“It worked.” The boy skipped around in joy.
As relief washed over him, Lucius felt a new emotion form – hope, but with it came a cold hard edge meant for those who deceived him.
“Thank you,” Lucius said as he shook the boy’s hand. After a few more words, Lucius took his leave.
When the woman returned to find the boy alone, she was livid. “Jonathan Weldsmore, where’s your body guard?”
“He went home,” the boy replied trying not to show joy at his accomplishment.
LUCIUS LEFT THE THEATRE THINKING about what he would do next. For he knew if Dr. Casselberry had lied about his clockwork heart, then he may have lied about something much more important – the death of his family. Lucius would discover the truth no matter what it took.
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