A Matter of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

silhouette, and then suddenly it is gone.
    Or is it? In a trick of the light, or my eyes, I seem to be able to catch partial, and fragmentary glimpses of shadowy movement towards the park.
    The horses certainly see it! They are all going out of their minds!
    A woman’s scream cuts the night.
    My legs have re-solidified and are already running in the direction from which came the scream before I realize what they are doing .

Chapter 10 - No Escape.
    Persephone
    “No!”
    A chilopodal worm of enormous size, and moving with alarming speed, makes straight for me.
    I dash headlong into a city park that lies before me and across a long bridge in the middle of the erstwhile sanctuary.
    A marked and insistent, high speed, mechanical tapping compels me to turn and look back.
    The monster's countless legs, working in an unearthly coordination, beat a blood-curdling rhythm, as insectlike appendages propel the centipedal horror. The grotesquely grown grub glides across the masoned bridge to the industrial accompaniment of its cobblestone symphony.
    I cannot outrun it! The massive and wrongful form is already upon me.
    The Creature strikes!

Chapter 11 - The Ghost.
    Ichabod
    Swift on my feet, in spite of my heavy boots, I am off like a shot.
    I know many of these English dandies kit themselves out with some interesting hardware, but I augment my defenses in the American Style, with a ‘72 Colt .45 revolver.
    The farther I run into this park, the further I get from the gaslights that line so many London streets. It is hard to see and I don’t know which direction to search. I fear that I have lost the path of the poor woman that I heard scream and her horrible pursuer.
    I have my ‘ Beauties!’
    Pulling the goggles off my hat and onto my head, I spin up the generator.
    Saint James blooms into an eerie, phosphorescent green meadow. Under the ‘Green Beauties’s’ view, it is impossible not to see the hideous monster. What was invisible to me before, now glows with a sickly luminescence. I am very nearly unable to comprehend what I see. Perhaps the size of an overgrown pig, but with hundreds of insect legs, a creature that does not belong in our world is running through this London park.
    Flying along at an alarming pace, the monster kicks up a clickety-clackity, clickety-clackity ruckus from the paving like that of an automated typesetting machine. The appearance of the creature and rapidity of its hundreds of legs mesh oddly with the sounds echoing from the passage of the grotesque horror over the long bridge spanning this urban artificial lake.
    I pour all my efforts into catching and dispatching this outrageous worm, for even though I dearly love most all of our Earth’s creatures, this disgusting bug definitely does not rate consideration.
    No! I am too late! It has overtaken a woman and I won’t be there in time!
    There is a blinding flash of light! A sphere of intense energy has burst from the girl. This burns brightly for a moment, expanding out in all directions to swiftly collapse back into a bubble that surrounds the young woman.
    With this thin shield she holds the beast at bay.
    Whatever the power is that emanates from the victimized girl, her strength wanes as the creature becomes more enraged.
    I stop, aim, and put a round through the creature’s head. By head, I mean the end with the mouth: the circular, row upon row, daggertooth lined mouth, that appears equally bitey/suckey. This opening can be found beneath the two large hemispheric protuberances that are as overcrowded by fly-eyes.
    My pistol shot has no effect! The monster does not even take notice. The fanged aperture continues to push its way through the protective energy bubble in a persistent effort to bite and devour the girl.
    I put five more rounds square into the creature’s head with no result.
    This is no time to be disheartened, for the lady can barely keep the creature from latching hold.
    Drawing my Bowie knife, I pounce on the monster’s back,