Steampunk Jack

Chapter Six: Spiritual energy

The next morning, Anne awoke, rather fascinated by the fact that she had fallen asleep in the first place, much rested. She walked down the stairs and found James already hard at work, mixing sand and other ingredients. He’d apparently run out to an apothecary since she recognized several of the things she mentioned resting next to a well-used mortar and pestle. “Good morning.” She greeted.

He looked up and smiled cheerfully. “You are looking better. Very nearly opaque as a matter of fact!”

“I am going to choose to take that as a good thing and say thank you.” Anne commented wryly. “Though for future reference, the only reference you should make to a lady’s appearance should be a clearly positive statement.”

“So, I have heard.” He chuckled. “I trust you rested well.”

“And I must admit to being surprised by that, yes.”

He nodded and turned his attention back to his cameras drawing. “I must admit, I’m feeling less optimistic about our chances in the light of day. That being said, I plan to push forward.”

“Why is that?” She asked. She managed to not let the dread his statement filled her with show in her voice, though she suspected he knew the effect it would have. He’d sounded hesitant to speak when he’d said it.

“Honestly… and I am embarrassed to admit this…” James sighed, and looked up at her, visibly contrite. “The camera didn’t work as I had expected the first time.”

Anne frowned, but her expression lightened as realization dawned. “You weren’t planning to get the portrait of a ghost. You were planning to take a photo of me being murdered and my killer, not me glaring at you.”

“If it’s any consolation, it was a lovely glare. Intimidating and yet charming.” James chuckled. “And yes. Ironically my goal had been to help Scotland Yard solve your murder in the first place!”

“And yet you were so resistant when I asked.” Anne muttered, and then held up her hands to fend off his glare. “For good reason, I admit that now! What I don’t see is how making another camera is going to help, if the first attempt was a failure.”

“My… theory. Theory is far too strong a word, so let’s say hypothesis… is that you’re special, your mystical abilities mixed with the psionic energies released by your murder. That allowed you to sustain your consciousness without a body.” He explained. “A mimeograph I read on the topic of voodoo practices while I was working on the camera the first time even referenced several methods allegedly used to either ‘become’ dead, or to offer death to open a gateway between the living and spiritual world, temporarily.”

“Does that mean… I’ll fade when the energy passes? Like a lightning bolt in the night?”

James raised his eyebrow. “Not as completely unscientific as you like to appear, eh?” He chuckled. “I actually don’t think that’s a concern, now.”

“Why? I will remind you that I have more than a passing familiarity with the occult myself, Professor St. Cloud. I know more than a bit about raising energy, and how long it lasts. More than you, I’d be happy to wager!”

“That is obviously a fact, so I will resist the urge to gamble with you.” James commented. “However, the hauntings I’ve discovered that do involve a sentient or sentient seeming, specter appear to become gradually more intense the longer people remain in the area. At first, I assumed it was because the spirits, or the people reporting them, just liked an audience who grows more excited about a play… but now I suspect that the ghost feeds from the psionic energy of their… well, victims I suppose you’d call them.”

“You’re saying I’m devouring you like a bloody vampire! You little…”

“No!” James interrupted. “Well, not exactly at any rate. What I suspect is the energy these people are putting, subconsciously, into being aware of a ghost and its activities are fueling the spirit. The more they believe, the more energy the ghost has.”

“So, since you know I’m here and not just taking it on faith… you’re feeding me a great deal of energy.” Anne observed.

“Something to that effect, yes.” He nodded. “Emily is, as well. It’s nothing we can’t spare, and you’re not a malicious entity… more or less,” He grinned as she glared. “So, there is no harm done, and you will remain.”

“Good.” Anne sighed, allowing relief to show. “I’d have felt guilty for what happened if I was harming you in any way.”

“It’s not like it’s your fault. I mean, I doubt you can really say ‘You know, I’m going to haunt that James St. Cloud bloke’ and do it, now can you?” He chuckled, turning back to the board.

He didn’t hear her mutter “Actually… I sort of did.”

“So, my plan is to build another lens… perhaps several now that I think about it. Perhaps I can make Emily a pair of spirit glasses so she can see you, since she believed us so easily…” He shrugged, shelving the idea. “I’ll then fix my camera, and we’ll go to another murder scene.”

“And, if you’re right… We’ll take a picture of the murder!” Anne smiled. “If it works, that’ll be brilliant!”

“And reproducible, in theory, so the Yard will have to take my evidence seriously.” James grinned, a hint of vicious joy touching the expression. “I think I’ll rather enjoy making the good Inspector eat crow.”

“That is, assuming, it works.” The woman sighed, drifting over to where he was working; looking over the mixture of sand and herbs he was working with. “Why the garlic?” She asked.

“Um….”

“You’re afraid of actually drawing a vampire, aren’t you?” She commented, raising an eyebrow and smirking at him.

“No! Not at all!” He sputtered, waving his arms. Finally, he sighed. “All though you must admit, if one undead exists, it’d be fool hardy to rule out another.”

“Garlic’s good for purification. That’s not really what you’re going for here, James.”

Muttering, he picked up his well ground garlic and half tossed it back into a bag. “I suppose my next attempt at Irish stew will be very rich in garlic, then.” He muttered, stumping off. Anne could only laugh as she followed him.

“How long is it going to take for you to craft your lens?”

James shrugged. “Unfortunately… it'll take several days at the least. I could do things faster if I had the time to spare, but I have classes and faculty functions at the University which I cannot put off.”

“Can Emily help?”

“Sadly, no.” He admitted. “All she can do is stoke the crucible itself, and I’m hesitant to let her near the fumes, considering what happened to me. To be frank, we’re still not certain why I can see you and I’ve found myself quite paranoid about graveyards.”

“I hadn’t considered that.” Anne admitted. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t actually seen any other ghosts myself.”

James shrugged, turning back to his workshop. “The truth is, we won’t know until we wander across another ghost and see them. Until then, it’s all theory.”

“A case of, if it hasn’t happened yet, that doesn’t mean it won’t happen eventually.” She observed.

“Exactly! Now, if you are ready?”

Anne blinked, confused. “Whatever for?”

He chuckled. “It is a Monday, dear lady. I must report for work.”

“Oh… Um, what classes are taught around yours?”

“I believe, depending on the time of day, there’s a chemistry course, a philosophy lecture, and an ethics study next to my hall. I’m not certain what may be above it, and the other walls are all external, so empty onto the campus.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t worry. It’s an exam day.” He chuckled. “I like to hit them with one each Monday to make sure they are doing their reading. You can help me catch any cheaters, and perhaps pass through the more obstinate ones. It will be entertaining!”

“Sure, entertaining.” she muttered darkly. “Now I’m not only dead, but I’m a spy. Lovely.”

“I think so, yes!” He crowed.