MALFRED SWITCHCLOCK PRESENTS. . .
The Stolen Heart
by
Bashaan
Part One
The Roman Catholic Church’s Clock laboriously struck twelve times as Father Dallum led Detective Inspector Jackstone up the freestone stairs of the Medieval Clock Tower by torchlight. Detective Jackstone always worked at night: it hid his deep complexion and one-quarter Indian features as well as his sharp eyes and one-quarter Asian features. Though England was not Germany and the Great Race Wars had yet to begin, Social Mores were still slow to change and thus Jackstone was relegated to the graveyard shift. Father Dallum also worked at night for he looked like a Nosferatu in human form and thus during the day avoided the Flock he watched over.
Jackstone’s upturned collar of his overcoat and downturned fedora also shadowed his features -and though it seared his honor to have to patrol the dark recesses of ‘civilized’ society he found that this shadowy persona did have its advantages as it intimidated his quarry and even his colleagues. He was an American Gangster free to stalk the steamy streets of Lost London. In similar fashion, Dallum always wore his cape’s hood up as to darken his albino skin and soften his angular, predatory features. He had the appearance and solitude of a Benedictine Monk as he served in the epicenter of the Parish that imprisoned him. Jackstone knew Dallum was a monster; he just didn’t know if Dallum was the monster he would be hunting.
Father Dallum led the traveling Detective into the Clock Room that featured a working 14th century Astronomical Turret Clock. The Clock was enhanced by a pendulum in the 17th century and then in the 19th century it was enhanced by a steam-driven Belfry complete with 28 bells totaling 18 tons (twelve quarter ton bells, six half ton bells, four three-quarter ton bells, three one ton bells, two one and a half ton bells, and one three ton bell). A thirteenth strike pressed down from above, shaking the room, causing both men to cover their ears.
“That hasn’t happened before.” Dallum peered into the intricate workings of the gears that led up to the Belfry.
“I get the feeling I am not wanted up here.” Jackstone scanned the room, almost ignoring the Mangled Body that leaned against the North Wall.
“You are welcome in MY Church at any time, Detective.” Dallum admonished the Spirit of the Clock Tower.
“Thank you, that kind of acceptance is a rarity for me.”
“True Religions and Civilizations are inclusive, not exclusive.”
“No-one comes up here but you?”
“I am the only human that regularly comes up here to the Clock Room and Belfry above,” returned Dallum, “though every quarter moon a Mystic Ceremony is held in the Grand Exconjuratory Hall below and every New Moon a Mystic Ceremony is held upon the rooftop Altar high above -the rooftop only being accessible via the outer stairway.”
“What is the only human supposed to mean?”
“You know the rumors.”
“There are many rumors associated with this Church.”
“The most prevalent rumor is that a vampire makes its home up here.”
“A lesser rumor is that you yourself are a vampire.”
“That foul rumor has recently troubled my ear: I do not do well with the public, but my faith to the Church is manifest: Father Goulan takes care of the Church Services whilst I take care of the Church’s inner workings as well as aid in Confessions of unique circumstances.”
“Are there any unique Confessions that I should hear about?”
“You should hear about them all, but I am bound by God to keep those words between the Confessor, myself and the Holy Ghost.”
“Very well: Are there any unique Confessions that are pertinent to this particular case?”
“No, I do not think so, but have your fellow Detectives troll the sewers, some interesting things may turn up.”
“I will be glad to send them on that assignment, but back to my case: Do you go out in the light?”
“I am an albino; I do not like the light on my skin: it will burn, but not in flames. Come tomorrow during the day if you need more proof -and we will find out if you yourself are indeed safe in the sun as well.”
“Tomorrow we will have a picnic in the Church Park: just you, I, and the Holy Ghost; we will remove our outer garments and we will see which of us will have a Baptism by Fire.”
“Agreed. -And what of now?”
“Have you been a witness to any other vampires?”
“No, but there have been vampires here in the past, but only a fool would bring his victims to his own abode!”
“-Or her victims to her own abode.” Jackstone made a modest attempt at social equality.
“I suppose.” Dallum said dryly.
“You speak as if you are a Master in the Killing Field.”
“We have decided to test my flesh tomorrow, not tonight.”
“Very well. What are some of the other rumors?”
“The Suicide Mistress. She leapt from the Storm Altar when the husband she was having an affair with returned to his wife.”
“Perhaps the murdered girl is some sort of Banshee’s Revenge?” Jackstone finally gave some of his attention to the Body, though he mostly trusted his fellow detectives in handling the forensic side of cases.
“Indeed the victim is related to the adulterer, but she is not his daughter -only his niece.”
“This does not absolve the jealous mistress’s spirit -or her living family.”
“No, but I knew Lady Nerie: she was young and foolish, but not mean and vindictive. . . Thus, I believe, she committed suicide and not murder.”
“Understood, but still suspicious, especially for her relatives.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, indeed.” Jackstone felt the air above the victim’s empty chest, peered into her lifeless face, then sniffed above her collar before returning his attention to the Father.
“Shall I go on with more Church Deviltries?” Jackstone detected a twinkle in Dallum’s eye as the Father spoke.
“Just with the stories associated with this Tower.” Jackstone narrowed his vision.
“Well, there is the Clockwork Boy. . .”
“The Devil’s Automation.”
“Rejected by all, even his own parents, the handicapped child was patched together by the builder of the Belfry with spare parts. The Machinist gave the boy the Steam of Life; he then gave him unto Father Marcus to raise in the Church. Marcus became the boy’s father and the Clock itself was the boy’s mother.”
“You speak as if the Clockwork Boy is real.”
“In all my years I have never seen him.”
“-But you hear him.”
“I hear all of the spirits in this Church.”
“What does the Devil Boy’s spirit tell you?”
“This Clock Tower was his power source and he could never leave the grounds for more than an hour. Yes, he started out as a dark child, but the Priests swore there was goodness in him -yet the boy’s loneliness twisted him further, an emptiness that God nor God’s Children could fill.”
“Was his power source: What happened to the boy? When did he die?” Jackstone steered his attention to the workings of the clock, pulsing his hands toward them as if sharing their energy.
“He never did die; he just faded away: it was rumored the Clock Tower absolved his maniacal soul then absorbed his mechanical flesh.” Dallum too looked at the workings with suspicious eyes.
“How old would the boy be now, if he were still alive?” The investigating pair returned their attention to each other.
“Trust me, the boy is NOT alive, but to answer your question: the Belfry was started in 1808 and completed 1818: the boy was created during this time, but it was thought he was born around 1800.”
“He would be around eighty-eight years old today.”
“Only the mad have claimed to see him in the 1830’s and beyond: his last ‘reputable’ sighting was in ’28.”
“I am going to bring in a Spiritualist Savant to talk to you tomorrow.”
“Very well, but understand the Spirits the Savant believes in and the Spirit I believe in are on Opposing Sides.”
“Somehow I will filter out the truths amongst the lies. Until then: Are there any more stories?”
“Dozens, hundreds if we include the Sacrifices.”
“Sacrifices?”
“We are on the sea’s edge; the Ancients thought the Kraken had to be fed.”
“Is the Kraken still being fed? What of those ‘Mystic Ceremonies’ held upon the Storm Altar?”
“You will have to ask Deacon Meacham about those; I do not partake in them, nor does Father Goulan.”
“Deacon Meacham?”
“He is a Legend in the Community, but you must know this.”
“I know this first hand. He may not have saved my Soul, but he did save my Spirit when I was young and troubled.”
“Do not fool yourself: he did save your Soul.”
“-But what were his plans with my flesh? I never did come to this Church, despite his insistence: perhaps my instincts were protecting me from something.”
“Your Primal Instincts are keeping you in denial of your Faith: You must listen to the Holy Spirit within.”
“What spirit do you hear right now?”
“Hers.” Father Dallum’s eyes steered Detective Jackstone’s eyes to the worn fresco, upon the North Wall, of the Virgin Mother as she watched and prayed over the Body beneath her.
“What is she saying?”
“She is singing the Siren Song of Justice.”
“Good Night, Father.” Jackstone began to walk back down the stairs.
“Good Night, Detective Inspector.” Dallum watched him leave from above.
For Part Two Click HERE! (When Available)
Jackstone’s upturned collar of his overcoat and downturned fedora also shadowed his features -and though it seared his honor to have to patrol the dark recesses of ‘civilized’ society he found that this shadowy persona did have its advantages as it intimidated his quarry and even his colleagues. He was an American Gangster free to stalk the steamy streets of Lost London. In similar fashion, Dallum always wore his cape’s hood up as to darken his albino skin and soften his angular, predatory features. He had the appearance and solitude of a Benedictine Monk as he served in the epicenter of the Parish that imprisoned him. Jackstone knew Dallum was a monster; he just didn’t know if Dallum was the monster he would be hunting.
Father Dallum led the traveling Detective into the Clock Room that featured a working 14th century Astronomical Turret Clock. The Clock was enhanced by a pendulum in the 17th century and then in the 19th century it was enhanced by a steam-driven Belfry complete with 28 bells totaling 18 tons (twelve quarter ton bells, six half ton bells, four three-quarter ton bells, three one ton bells, two one and a half ton bells, and one three ton bell). A thirteenth strike pressed down from above, shaking the room, causing both men to cover their ears.
“That hasn’t happened before.” Dallum peered into the intricate workings of the gears that led up to the Belfry.
“I get the feeling I am not wanted up here.” Jackstone scanned the room, almost ignoring the Mangled Body that leaned against the North Wall.
“You are welcome in MY Church at any time, Detective.” Dallum admonished the Spirit of the Clock Tower.
“Thank you, that kind of acceptance is a rarity for me.”
“True Religions and Civilizations are inclusive, not exclusive.”
“No-one comes up here but you?”
“I am the only human that regularly comes up here to the Clock Room and Belfry above,” returned Dallum, “though every quarter moon a Mystic Ceremony is held in the Grand Exconjuratory Hall below and every New Moon a Mystic Ceremony is held upon the rooftop Altar high above -the rooftop only being accessible via the outer stairway.”
“What is the only human supposed to mean?”
“You know the rumors.”
“There are many rumors associated with this Church.”
“The most prevalent rumor is that a vampire makes its home up here.”
“A lesser rumor is that you yourself are a vampire.”
“That foul rumor has recently troubled my ear: I do not do well with the public, but my faith to the Church is manifest: Father Goulan takes care of the Church Services whilst I take care of the Church’s inner workings as well as aid in Confessions of unique circumstances.”
“Are there any unique Confessions that I should hear about?”
“You should hear about them all, but I am bound by God to keep those words between the Confessor, myself and the Holy Ghost.”
“Very well: Are there any unique Confessions that are pertinent to this particular case?”
“No, I do not think so, but have your fellow Detectives troll the sewers, some interesting things may turn up.”
“I will be glad to send them on that assignment, but back to my case: Do you go out in the light?”
“I am an albino; I do not like the light on my skin: it will burn, but not in flames. Come tomorrow during the day if you need more proof -and we will find out if you yourself are indeed safe in the sun as well.”
“Tomorrow we will have a picnic in the Church Park: just you, I, and the Holy Ghost; we will remove our outer garments and we will see which of us will have a Baptism by Fire.”
“Agreed. -And what of now?”
“Have you been a witness to any other vampires?”
“No, but there have been vampires here in the past, but only a fool would bring his victims to his own abode!”
“-Or her victims to her own abode.” Jackstone made a modest attempt at social equality.
“I suppose.” Dallum said dryly.
“You speak as if you are a Master in the Killing Field.”
“We have decided to test my flesh tomorrow, not tonight.”
“Very well. What are some of the other rumors?”
“The Suicide Mistress. She leapt from the Storm Altar when the husband she was having an affair with returned to his wife.”
“Perhaps the murdered girl is some sort of Banshee’s Revenge?” Jackstone finally gave some of his attention to the Body, though he mostly trusted his fellow detectives in handling the forensic side of cases.
“Indeed the victim is related to the adulterer, but she is not his daughter -only his niece.”
“This does not absolve the jealous mistress’s spirit -or her living family.”
“No, but I knew Lady Nerie: she was young and foolish, but not mean and vindictive. . . Thus, I believe, she committed suicide and not murder.”
“Understood, but still suspicious, especially for her relatives.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, indeed.” Jackstone felt the air above the victim’s empty chest, peered into her lifeless face, then sniffed above her collar before returning his attention to the Father.
“Shall I go on with more Church Deviltries?” Jackstone detected a twinkle in Dallum’s eye as the Father spoke.
“Just with the stories associated with this Tower.” Jackstone narrowed his vision.
“Well, there is the Clockwork Boy. . .”
“The Devil’s Automation.”
“Rejected by all, even his own parents, the handicapped child was patched together by the builder of the Belfry with spare parts. The Machinist gave the boy the Steam of Life; he then gave him unto Father Marcus to raise in the Church. Marcus became the boy’s father and the Clock itself was the boy’s mother.”
“You speak as if the Clockwork Boy is real.”
“In all my years I have never seen him.”
“-But you hear him.”
“I hear all of the spirits in this Church.”
“What does the Devil Boy’s spirit tell you?”
“This Clock Tower was his power source and he could never leave the grounds for more than an hour. Yes, he started out as a dark child, but the Priests swore there was goodness in him -yet the boy’s loneliness twisted him further, an emptiness that God nor God’s Children could fill.”
“Was his power source: What happened to the boy? When did he die?” Jackstone steered his attention to the workings of the clock, pulsing his hands toward them as if sharing their energy.
“He never did die; he just faded away: it was rumored the Clock Tower absolved his maniacal soul then absorbed his mechanical flesh.” Dallum too looked at the workings with suspicious eyes.
“How old would the boy be now, if he were still alive?” The investigating pair returned their attention to each other.
“Trust me, the boy is NOT alive, but to answer your question: the Belfry was started in 1808 and completed 1818: the boy was created during this time, but it was thought he was born around 1800.”
“He would be around eighty-eight years old today.”
“Only the mad have claimed to see him in the 1830’s and beyond: his last ‘reputable’ sighting was in ’28.”
“I am going to bring in a Spiritualist Savant to talk to you tomorrow.”
“Very well, but understand the Spirits the Savant believes in and the Spirit I believe in are on Opposing Sides.”
“Somehow I will filter out the truths amongst the lies. Until then: Are there any more stories?”
“Dozens, hundreds if we include the Sacrifices.”
“Sacrifices?”
“We are on the sea’s edge; the Ancients thought the Kraken had to be fed.”
“Is the Kraken still being fed? What of those ‘Mystic Ceremonies’ held upon the Storm Altar?”
“You will have to ask Deacon Meacham about those; I do not partake in them, nor does Father Goulan.”
“Deacon Meacham?”
“He is a Legend in the Community, but you must know this.”
“I know this first hand. He may not have saved my Soul, but he did save my Spirit when I was young and troubled.”
“Do not fool yourself: he did save your Soul.”
“-But what were his plans with my flesh? I never did come to this Church, despite his insistence: perhaps my instincts were protecting me from something.”
“Your Primal Instincts are keeping you in denial of your Faith: You must listen to the Holy Spirit within.”
“What spirit do you hear right now?”
“Hers.” Father Dallum’s eyes steered Detective Jackstone’s eyes to the worn fresco, upon the North Wall, of the Virgin Mother as she watched and prayed over the Body beneath her.
“What is she saying?”
“She is singing the Siren Song of Justice.”
“Good Night, Father.” Jackstone began to walk back down the stairs.
“Good Night, Detective Inspector.” Dallum watched him leave from above.
For Part Two Click HERE! (When Available)
