“Take him his breakfast below, Hieronymus” Kate told the butler. No one could get between her husband and a goal. She would add her counsel to what should be done with the technology after it was actually proven to work.
The butler took his leave and Kate turned her attention back to the small piece of parchment covered material in her hand. It was a stylized version of the ones that they had in their collection.
Edison’s phonograph was one of Kate’s favorite inventions of the last century. She remembered Maximus taking her to see the man himself present the machine when he was traveling the country. They had ordered their very own that night and it had been placed in her sitting room.
As she walked toward the machine, she removed the ribbon and withdrew the wax-covered paper of the phonogram. She then lifted the needle of the phonograph and placed the small disc of paper on the machine.
The scratching from the wax record came softly through the phonograph, followed by a hint of flowing music. Kate waited a full minute before the familiar voice of Major Richard Blackburn slid out of the funnel as a snake from its hole. “Dearest friends, I would like to invite you to join me and many others of our society and station on the first voyage of the Black Banshee, my newest and fastest locomotive. We will travel the outskirts of the city and cross both rivers in a matter of an hour, breaking the record of two hours and twenty-eight minutes by half. Your presence is requested this Saturday at dusk. Dinner will be provided before the journey and celebratory drinks will be had after. I am assured that you will join Blackburn Rails on this historic occasion. I leave you now to the charming sounds of Lafayetta playing a lost concerto of the great maestro Chopin.”
Once the speaking ended, the slow notes of a piano drifted out of the phonograph. The song was haunting, moving through soft notes and raising in volume as it crashed into others. Like the waves of the river Styx washing up near the gates of Hell itself.
A chill moved quickly up Kate’s spine and she removed the needle from the wax-covered disc. She had heard that song before. She knew that Lafayetta, Blackburn’s Cameroonian medium, was not playing the piece with her own hands.
The Golds had been in attendance months before when Blackburn had presented a gala at a local theatre. The black image of Lafayetta still hung in the back of her mind. The woman was unbelievably tall, Kate estimated almost seven feet, and incredibly skinny and corpse-like. She sat in the middle of the stage veiled in sheer white and dressed in a gown made of the same material, so that one could see right through to the flesh underneath. Her slight breasts, like those of a young boy, shown darker around the pointed nipples.
Kate remembered remarking that “the show of the veiled lady” was little more than veiled pornography. Yet, her husband, who was not one to be mesmerized by the human body, shushed her quickly.
Kate had turned her head back to the display in time to see something start to move under the transparent dress. A white and almost glowing substance started to pour out from those large, dark nipples and a larger strand moved up from the belly button.
***
The woman’s face craned backwards at an unnatural angle and her eyes slowly rolled until Kate could only see the whites.
She felt the hand of Maximus on hers and he squeezed hard in a strange mix of fear and joy. “Ectoplasm!” He whispered. “She is a physical medium, harvesting the ectoplasm from her own body to channel the dead.”
“Ectoplasm,” Kate repeated. She had heard the term and read the paper in which Charles Richet had coined it to denote the exteriorized substance of spiritual energy. She had wanted to see it first hand and now she wished she never had.
The strands came together to form a blob of viscous white floating in the air in front of the now comatose medium, but still connected to her through thin arms rising from each point of origin.
The blob pushed through a slit in the thin fabric and started to shape into the form of a man’s upper body.
The crowd gasped in unison as the face of the man took shape and announced in a deep foreboding voice that he was the ghost of Frédéric François Chopin.
Kate very much doubted this, since Chopin never spoke a word of English in his life and was now speaking fluently without even the slightest hint of an accent.
Yet, a piano was brought forth and the physical presence that called itself Chopin hung in the air above the black and white keys.
Suddenly, the ectoplasm elongated and Laffeyeta let out a slow moan as the thing that called itself Chopin laid ghostly white fingers to the piano. The notes of the “Waltz in D-Flat Major” began to form under the spirit’s touch, quietly at first, but quickly building in sound and intensity. Kate knew the song was called the “Minute Waltz,” but that Chopin never intended that it be played so quickly. The slow movement of the specter’s performance drew out the melody and gave weight to its unnatural origins.
Kate’s hand tightened on that of her husband’s as the exquisite notes of the unforgettable melody filled the theatre. She had always loved the song and found joy in its light hearted melody, but not longer. It was stained by the chill that ran down her spine at the sight of the unnatural creature that stood on the stage in front of her.
Not a word was uttered while the performance commenced and all eyes stared straight into the milky white phantasm whose tentacle like fingers moved over the piano.
The music ended, yet the crowd remained dumbfounded. The spirit played one other song, the one recorded on the phonogram, and turned back to face the crowd.
Still, not a sound came from the audience as the thing in the form of Chopin moved forward to take a long bow. He opened his mouth and once more the foreboding voice, this time speaking his native French, emanated from all around the theatre. It spoke the same words that Chopin had been recorded to have written from his death bed, “Comme cette terre m'étouffera, je vous conjure de faire ouvrir mon corps pour [que] je ne sois pas enterré vif ."
At this, a low gasp went over the crowd. Chopin’s form quickly deflated and was drawn back into the waiting form of the medium. As the last bit of ectoplasm returned to Lafayetta’s inert form, the woman sat up as if from a afternoon repast.
She then stood and straightened her garments. At this small gesture, the tension of the crowd broke like a block of ice suddenly dropped onto a hot iron.
People stood and the applause roared from all sides. Kate remembered joining in with a cautious regard. Her stomach rolled as if she was on a ship that had just survived a storm the captain had ran into for fun and games. She could see it on the faces around her as well. They were only half clapping for the woman who had led them on this strange journey. The rest was for survival itself.
Lafayetta channeled many other spirits that night, yet none were as intriguing to Kate as the presence of Chopin.
Maximus was astonished when the woman used her ectoplasm to power a small, usually steam driven, carriage as it raced around the stage. The ivory liquid snaked out from the darkness of the Cameroonian’s body and entered into the carriage through a funnel that replaced the coal burning chamber. All at once, the ectoplasm was cut off and the carriage shot across the stage faster than any toy Kate had ever seen.
Her husband actually rose and walked up to get a closer look at the little engine that drove the carriage. Blackburn assured him that the toy would run for hours on the small amount of ectoplasm that was running the motor. This show of human automation is what had given Maximus the insane idea that he could project his being into a machine. He had ranted about it for weeks afterward and had only stopped during the Automaton murders, when catching the iron man had been their only concern.
Kate filled in the small RSVP and rang for Hieronymus to call on a steam bike messenger to have it delivered to Blackburn’s estate.
***
The week was quickly engulfed by a case that involved a missing girl. The Gold’s spent hours tracking what they believed to be a monster through subterranean tunnels under the city, on
ly to find that it was the girl’s own father. He had been lost in the War of the States and horribly scarred, both physically and mentally, by an airship explosion.
Kate looked forward to Saturday with a giddiness for gowns, dinners, and good company that a woman of any age could still possess. She chose a new dress, black with a trim of red for the occasion. She stepped into the dress and backed up to her automated dressing station humming the eerie tune of Chopin’s lost song.
After getting dressed herself, Kate moved to her husband’s closet and picked out a suitable dress-suit to match her gown. She waited for as long as she felt possible for him to come up from his basement laboratory and then took the steam-lift down to procure him from his studies.
Sure enough, he sat cross-legged on the floor in silent meditation. Kate had to stifle a gasp as she walked closer and spied the figure of the killer automaton looming above her husband. She knew that the organic brain that had run the creature was now removed, replaced by a synthetic organ of Maximus’ own design, yet she still remembered the thing’s huge hands on her throat and the knowledge that she came close to death at its hands.
Her husband raised his head at her approach and started to rise.
“We’re going to be late, Dear,” She called as she crossed the room.
“Darling,” He replied, looking at the huge clock-face that took up one wall of the huge laboratory. “I am so sorry.” He shifted his gaze to the iron man with a look of grim determination. “I felt myself moving though the inner workings, but I just can’t seem to lock my mind into the machine.”
“Perhaps,” replied Kate. “Blackburn or his medium could posit some theories as to the nature of your venture.”
“One can hope,” He said as he embraced her. “Yet, I know that you are looking forward to the relaxation of this party more than the chance to hear me discuss science.”
“Science,” Kate laughed. “My dear Husband, you are attempting something more akin to wizardry than science.”
“Ah,” He smiled back at her. “Are you the inquisition then? Ready to throw another witch upon the fire?”
He kissed her then, slow and deliberate, sliding his hands slowly over her lithe form.
“I feel the shape of my present under your dress my dear.” Maximus spoke into her ear. “I am peaked by your assumption that tonight will include danger.”
“Danger follows you around, Dear.” she replied as she moved in to engulf his mouth once more.
Their renewed kiss was long and Kate was tempted to let the man take her right there on the dirty floor.
Yet, she remembered her new dress and the party that was ahead. She pulled away, missing the heat of him instantly.
“You must get dressed,” she chided jokingly. “There will be time for the lust of the flesh later.”
“Ah,” He said as she took his arm to move toward the lift, “The wait only makes the time more sweet.”
***
As the Gold’s steam driven carriage arrived at the Blackburn estate, Kate saw how the mansion itself rested right up next to train tracks.
“Private tracks,” Maximus mused as he helped her out. “I had heard that Blackburn was working on a secret project right here on his ancestral estate, but I had no idea that it was an engine.”
Kate began to reply, but an unholy scream broke the hustle and bustle of people moving in and out of the mansion. Everyone stopped and many put their hands to their ears as out of the east came a pitch black locomotive pulling matching cars. The train moved toward the setting sun and Kate could swear that it was devouring the very light of the world as it moved into the station. She had never seen a metal that black.
The horn sounded again and she remembered that the monstrosities name was the Black Banshee. She understood why as the scream faded once more. The horn sounded more like a human shriek than a train whistle. She wondered what would make the thing sound so horrifying.
“Perhaps the modifications to the engine,” Maximus said, reading her thoughts. “has reshaped the classic train whistle. They say that the native fears the sound of the iron horse, perhaps they will fear Blackburn’s beast even more.”
“You know what they say about those who hear a banshee’s scream.” Kate replied as they walked the concrete path to the mansion’s entrance.
Maximus laughed as they moved forward into the growing group of St. Louis’ elite citizens.
The small group of around twenty were ushered quickly into the mansion. Kate spied many that she knew by name or at least by reputation—the mayor and his wife, Dr. Albert of the history museum and his star pupil, and possibly lover, Isobel. Every major manufacturing area was represented, including Maximus for steamships and steel and Blackburn himself for the railroad.
Maximus directed their steps through the crowd with small courtesies and Kate could tell that her husband walked with a specific purpose.
“There he is,” Maximus said, more to himself than to Kate. She looked to the right and spied Major Richard Blackburn dressed in a black suit with a black tie. Lafayetta stood beside him swathed in a dress of a sheer black material complete with shroud that hid her visage completely.
“They look like a mortician and his hired mourner,” she commented as they moved toward them. Maximus was too intent on getting to their host to reply.
Blackburn greeted the two with a friendly smile and open arms. He took Maximus into an embrace and kissed his cheeks in the European style. “Maximus Gold, my dear boy!” he said as he broke off the embrace.
He moved to Kate, who, not wanting the same embrace, quickly held out her hand for a shake. Blackburn took the hand, turned it palm down and kissed the top of it. His dark eyes never left her face as he bowed into the kiss. “Kate,” he chided. “The western woman is still not tamed by the city life of our dear St. Louis.”
“I find this city to be more like the wild west with each passing day,” Kate replied, amused and a little frustrated that she was still known for her birth in the west even after years of marriage and city life.
“Oh, yes!” Blackburn replied. “That bloody business with the killer machine and now your disfigured rebel.” Blackburn shook his head from side to side in a mock disapproval. “The socialite snoops are becoming quite the household name.”
Kate was about to reply that they were not calling themselves by that moniker and that the man had been a union soldier and deserved some respect when the woman in black stepped forward and extended a thin black arm toward her husband.
“We meet again, Mr. Gold,” came the low and rusty voice. Her shroud moved a little as her words pushed through.
Maximus took the hand and kissed the boney knuckle. “Dear, Lafayetta. I hope you will grace us with a show of your mediation this night.”
Kate was surprised to see Blackburn’s hand quickly lock around the woman’s wrist and pull her back. She caught a glimpse of anger in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by the smiling light of a gracious host.
“Oh,” he told the startled Maximus. “We have something very special prepared for this wonderful evening.”
Maximus, undaunted by the quick and small violence, moved the conversation into his reason for searching out his host and the Cameroonian medium. “I was hoping,” he said, “to pick your brain about astral projection. I have been experimenting with it, but I cannot seem to get anywhere useful. There is potential there. I knew it as soon as I saw your ectoplasmic residue power that toy. Yet, I cannot fully grasp how to harness the energy.”
“Let us sit next to each other during the meal, Maximus.” Blackburn said as he took Lafayetta’s arm and turned to join the crowd. “As I had hoped after our time at the theatre, you and I seem to be kindred spirits.”
Maximus began to reply, but stopped short as the crowd stepped through a back hallway and out onto a boarding platform built eloquently onto the back of the huge manor. There was a collective gasp as people’s eyes moved over the huge black locomotive known as the Black Bansh
ee.
Kate again believed the fading light of the sun seemed to be sucked in the things darkness. The steel looked more like onyx than metal.
“Behold!” cried Blackburn over the gasps of the crowd. “My crowning achievement.” He swept his hands toward the giant engine and the shrieking whistle blew once more. Many covered their ears and Kate could tell that more than a few in the crowd were enraged by the release of such a penetrating scream with the group so near.
“We shall board and dine.” Blackburn continued as the sound died away. “Then, you will see what real power and speed can do!”
The crowd moved forward slowly and Kate was reminded of onlookers at a freak show, scared of what they see in front of them, but unable to stop moving forward and on into madness.
She heard soft weeping and looked over to see Isobel, the student who had come with Dr. Albert. The girl was scared out of her mind and the good doctor had left her behind. Kate thought of going to her, but she quickly turned and ran back into the mansion.
Taking in the onyx monstrosity before her, Kate wondered if Isobel was not the only sane one among them. The engine was larger than a normal locomotive. It had a coal stove and smoke stack, but there was also some other mechanism. Almost as if there were two engines placed together. The cars, six in all were painted pitch black and Kate could swear that dark pipes ran along the outside connecting each like blood vessels feeding a living creature.
Every bone in her body told her to turn and catch up with the young and clearly more intelligent Isobel. Yet, as her husband bid her forward, she moved onto the steps and up into the train car.
The car was set for dining, with a long table and place settings. There was scarlet fabric lining the walls and black curtains on each window. The windows were blown glass and did not allow a clear view of the outside world. Hanging in the center of the table was a huge chandelier of ruby colored glass. Its light cast the world in a crimson hue that made everyone look as though they were heated by the sun.
Machina Mortis: Steampunk'd Tales of Terror Page 19